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Tag: 4 words

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Benjamin (commenter) Child abuse

Consumption, 10

Book 2

Chapter Two

Though I hoped I would have learned from these incidents, I am afraid to say that (to my mind) I had cause to fight with my father a third time in these cold, desperate weeks. My father does not learn or change. Of all the incidents, it was the most severe. It lingers with me even today in a mind that has by now forgotten most of my childhood and adolescent pain, blotting it out over long years of blood and agonising tears, if only for survival, and to the point that most of my anecdotes are hard to recall, and require concentrated thought to recount, even when the vague circumstances of them are still intrusive enough psychologically, and as if on the tip of my tongue.

I was in the car with my mother and father this time, being driven back from Chelmsford one Saturday afternoon, where we had attended the shopping centre. Due to my leg length, I sat in the front seat of the family Škoda and my mother in the rear on the right, behind Dad’s seat. My friend Ami was in the back seat behind me, and Dad was talking with her at the time, discussing her troubles. For once, he seemed empathetic in a manner that he would never have been with me if I had mentioned my own misery to him.

“So why do you think your own life isn’t going well, Ami? What’s getting you down?” my father said, asking her about her problems openly and in a warm manner that disguised the forwardness of his statement. She had been in his company a few times before, but he did not know my friend well, bar to know that we had both been in Brookside together. Ami had now moved back to her parents’ home in Loughton.

“Well, Billy,” she replied, more openly than I would ever have been able to, having been given a chance I never had to open up already in the hospital, and thus perhaps more used to intimate life discussions, talking to him as matter-of-factly as to a familiar therapist, lines that she had said out loud many times before, “I’m afraid I’ve had problems since I was a child. My mother was an alcoholic, and my father didn’t deal well with this. Aside from that, I was raped when I was younger. It shattered me. I’ve got OCD now, and Depression, as well as Dissociative Identity Disorder. I share my head with a woman named Anna and a couple of other people, and she talks to me with them, and in my own voice at times, too.”

Dad gasped a little and then nodded understandingly. Unused to psychiatric ideas as I knew he was, I was taken aback by his patience, as if Ami had announced the most normal and straightforward thing in the world. Embarrassing to my conscience, a brief stab of jealousy shot through me as I realised then that if I had said something similar, Dad would have scoffed as he always did or given me a quizzical look. Then, a sudden irritation entered his tone, bordering on great anger, “That’s awful, Ami. Who was it? Who did this to you? Tell me his name; I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!”

Dad continued his gesture of rage all the rest of the way down the road until we reached the front door of number 44. The vengeful promise on his part seemed genuine and unforced. I sympathised with Ami very much, already aware of her life circumstances and to far greater detail, but I was silently annoyed at my father by then, and very much. He would never have responded the same way had it been me reporting to him. Later that day, this thought was pressing on my mind, so I mentioned it to Ami, hoping she would not take my worries as an offence. Thankfully, she seemed to understand me and said, in a small yet supportive voice, “Ben, I know what you mean. I’m really sorry to hear. To be honest, please don’t get upset, but I think your Dad is a real arsehole to you… so many times I’ve seen him picking on you, and he speaks to you like total sh*t…”

A great tide of emotion welled up in me then. I thanked Ami profusely for what she had said. It was the first time someone had ever mentioned Dad’s long conduct towards me openly. Then she said, “It’s probably because he doesn’t know what happened to you; perhaps you should tell him. I know it’s hard, but when I told my father, it helped me a lot, and then I found I could open up to Mel and the rest of the unit staff back at Brookside… tell him in your own time. But definitely open up. At the moment, he’s cold and rude towards you because he doesn’t understand.” I nodded. It seemed she was right.

In the evening, Dad was kind enough to drive Ami back to Loughton and drop her off at her father’s luxury property. Saying my goodbyes to her on the front step of our house as I was exhausted from the day, I lingered at home nervously, waiting for him to return. My mother was still in the kitchen, preparing his evening meal. She didn’t know what I had in mind. She was busying about out of my way as I sat on the futon in my room preparing myself, unsure of his response but having taken what Ami said seriously and knowing it would help me, in the long run, to have this chat with him about my abuse, and as soon as possible.

Just under an hour and a half later, Dad returned to our house. From my corner bedroom, I heard the familiar sound of his engine pulling up and switching off, the car door slamming as it always did, and then him hurrying up the steps and the key in the front door. He was panting a little as he entered the house. I gave him a chance to get his breath back, but then, perhaps too soon, excited from all the thoughts welling up in my mind, I went over to him as he was again sat in his chair in the corner, waiting for his dinner to arrive, having been in the house about twenty minutes, and stood beside him on the new laminated wood-effect floor, and in a quiet, polite voice said: “hello Dad, can I have a word with you please?”

His voice was harsher than I expected and snappy, replying, “What? What is it? Can’t you wait? I’m tired tonight”, to which I replied, “I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s important, do you mind if I speak to you?” and heard him say again, in peeved agitation, “OK. What then? Come on. Get it over with!”, words which did nothing for my confidence. But I went on, plucking up all my courage, “Dad, I wanted to tell you about Tariq.” “Well, what about him?” “He abused me, Dad. When I was at school at the Prep school, he beat me up a lot, and then he touched me, and tried to have sex with me, and did other things…”

I was tailing off, not knowing how to continue. My father was still glaring up at me, motionless, not providing a very comfortable atmosphere at all. Instead of surprise, or supportive words, like those he had offered Ami, all he said to me was, “Look Benjamin, I’m very tired tonight. Can this not wait till some other time? I haven’t been in long, and I want to have my tea.”

He got up out of his chair and went out of the room, blundering down the unlit hall to the toilet to freshen up. I was in shock. More than this, I was very hurt. I followed him, still trying impotently to speak in his ear. “Dad, listen to me; this is important! Tariq hurt me! Tariq hurt me very much! Listen to me, Dad!” but all my father could say, distractedly over his shoulder, was, “Look, leave it now. I’m tired, and I need to get ready for tea. Stop getting yourself in a state.” I was heartbroken then, but there was nothing I could do. Clearly, he did not want to listen to me and was not taking me seriously. Anger erupted in me again, a great, huge, coruscating anger.

As he left the bathroom, I thrust my hand out and pushed my father until he stumbled, his body almost falling over, stopped only by bashing into the wall of the hall. He stopped for a second, in shock of his own, not knowing what had happened, and then turned on me with a yell and grabbed out at me. I, too, was snarling at this point, and again, we grappled on the floor, me squeezing his wrists and him trying to subdue me and knock me to the floor. More and more I squeezed, as I called out, in broken, incandescent rage, “Believe me! Believe me! You c**t, you f**king c**t! I hate you! Believe me!” and he ignored my impassioned voice, unclear than I was hurt more than just ‘behaving badly’, and instead managed to free one of my hands from his right arm, giving a little gasp as I squeezed my hardest, trying to cause him pain.

In a second, his right arm free, he screwed up his fist and punched me full-on in the face, his knuckles landing on the bridge of my nose, snapping the soft tissue of the tip to the side with a horrifying crunch as blood started to trickle in a painful nosebleed. I screeched at that point in fear, surprise, and pain and dropped my other hand also, going to cradle my nose, trying my hardest to slide my busted nasal cartilage back into place, in sharp, terrible pain, stinging ferociously, and with the cold, choking drip of blood. Using this opportunity, he stepped backwards and moved back into the light of the living room away from me. But anger was upon me, and I did not stall for long.

Despite my broken nose, I howled as I powered into my bedroom, barrelling over to the shelf to pick up the grip of my spring-powered BB pistol, making sure the magazine was full and slid into place. Then, taking the weapon in my right hand, I charged back into the hall as my Dad had just entered the living room, going across to talk to my mother, who was by now in a fluster, asking him, “What is it? What’s happened?” to which Dad replied, “Get this f**king maniac away from me!” and, on hearing this, I exploded, and shouted, “don’t call me a f**king maniac! You attacked me, you c**t, you f**king bast*rd!” and, to my mother’s horrified gasp, hoisted my arm, and pointed the gun at my father, aiming for in between his shoulder blades.

In a split second, grabbing his key, he pushed past me, knocking my barrel to the side, and fled out into the hallway again, and from there, through the front door and off down the steps around the corner of The Shrubberies and away down Chequers Road, with me following hot in pursuit, screaming my hatred at him, and taking time to stop, aim, and discharge the BB gun at him, aiming close, but making sure always to miss by a little, in ferocious anger, but still held back by something, knowing what the impacts of the weapon felt like from having been shot at with it by Tariq previously, and not wishing similar on my father as much as to frighten him, and ‘teach him a lesson’.

Soon, about halfway down to the Chequers Pub on the corner, I broke off my pursuit and turned back to the house, blood pouring down my face, and went up the steps into the toilet just to the left of the front door and, fetching as much toilet paper as I could unwind, stuffed it around my face and held it there, feeling that ultra-sensitive sting once more, and the first bruising around my right eye.

Not much later, as I was still in the toilet, I heard Dad’s feet on the steps and the door swinging back once again as he re-entered our home. There was silence in the hallway, and he did not call for me or attempt to open the door, though he would have known I was there. Instead, he brushed through into the living room to speak to my mother. Distracted and with my ears ringing, perhaps from his blow, I do not know what words passed between them, but I did not emerge for a long time, and I know they talked in my absence.

When I did step out of the downstairs toilet, I was no longer so angry. I dumped the BB gun back in my room. Then, tentatively, I peeked around the corner to the living room and saw Dad sitting back in his familiar chair. He was eating the dinner Mum had prepared for him as if nothing had happened. There was silence as I entered the room. Then I spoke, my voice affected by the stiffness and pain in my face. “I’m sorry I shot at you, Dad. And I’m sorry I fought too. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Tears were forming in my bruising eyes. Dad got up out of the chair slowly. I winced a little, but then he spoke, “That’s ok, son. We know you’re not well.” And, tired of warring with him then, I went to him, my head down again, in clinging sadness, ashamed of myself, and put out my hands in a hug, and, for the first time in my life, my father reciprocated and came to me. I felt him put his big, bony arms around me and then the press of my upper chest beneath his red pullover, and so we hugged, there on the floor, in front of my silent mother. “Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I love you”, and he replied, “And you too, son” Then, exhausted and overcome, and not really knowing what to think, I filed quietly back into my room, my broken nose still unaddressed, though spotted by my mother.

In time, my nose healed, although even these days, it has never re-set fully and still hangs off to the side slightly, lending the centre of my face a disquieting asymmetry, the subtle scar tissue bulky just beneath the bridge, and regularly, I experience slight breathing difficulties and prolonged sinus infections.

 

______ 卐 ______

 

If this, at ultimate conclusion—the 4 words—(the 14 words is a given) is not why they’re fighting as the final beautiful goal, why are they fighting at all? —Benjamin’s email to the Editor.

Categories
Final solution Holocaust

2 Holocausts

People in power put in jail those who question the Holocaust in Europe. In the country of the First Amendment they don’t jail them, but it happened that President Bush deported a Holocaust denier to Europe to let the authorities jail him there!

The Holocaust is a topic that is not usually touched upon in American white nationalist forums either. Unlike the position of Greg Johnson, who believes that the subject should be abandoned—and I refer to what he discussed years ago with Hadding Scott on The Occidental Observer—, I think that the subject of the Holocaust is paramount for the Aryan to reclaim his mental health. It is a very thorny issue and no wonder no one on the racial right wants to address the very core, the ethical part. (The articles Ron Unz publishes on his webzine about the Holocaust and get thousands of hits, and hundreds of comments, fail to address the ethical issue.) So let’s try to address it from my POV, ‘Eliminate all unnecessary suffering’.

First of all, for Hitler’s willing executioners the suffering the Holocaust caused wasn’t unnecessary but necessary. When I was a new-born, one of them even tried to justify himself with these words to those who had any moral qualms:

Menschenkinder, verflucht noch mal eine Generation muss dies halt durchstehen, damit es unsere Kinder besser haben! (Damn it!: A generation has to go through this so that our children will fare better.) [1]

Against Hollywood and even Russian film propaganda (see for example this scene from the Russian movie Come and See where some Belorussian Jews were holocausted in their own village), when one begins to familiarise oneself with the historical literature one is struck by how difficult it was, psychologically, for many Germans to commit genocides. Himmler himself lowered his eyes when he witnessed one of the typical open-air machine-gunning massacres: one of those that so often occurred in the conquered territories. (Much of what is called the Holocaust occurred in the open, relatively far from the villages so as not to frighten the locals.)

Given the awfulness of the work that the killing entailed, Himmler loved the idea of setting up group therapy sessions for his executioners: sessions that were filled as much as possible with a homey atmosphere, food and music, though no alcohol; and some men were relieved of the uglier tasks of killing men, women and children so that, as one diary keeper wrote, ‘they could retain their humanity’.

But the central issue is: If the Jews are not the sole cause of Aryan decline, which is my view, how can the Holocaust be justified?

Believe it or not, there came to be some executioners who were neither monocausalists nor ‘bicausalists A’, but approached ‘bicausalism B’ (see my post of the day before yesterday). On September 17, 1941 the Einsatzgruppe, already overwhelmed by the intensity of its genocidal task, suggested that the extermination of the Jews would not solve all the problems:

Even if it were possible to eliminate 100% of the Jews, we would not eliminate the fundamental danger. The Bolshevik work is carried out by Jews, Russians, Georgians, Armenians, Poles, Latvians, and Ukrainians; the Bolshevik apparatus does not coincide completely with the Jewish population. Under such conditions, we would not achieve the goal of political security if we substituted the main task of destroying the Communist machine for the relatively easy task of eliminating the Jews.[2]

The sticky post on this site links to an article that recommends reading the book that recounts the astronomical genocidal atrocities—a true Holocaust—that the Allies committed on the German people even after 1945: something that Westerners are unaware of because the ubiquitous anti-Aryan propaganda only mentions one of the two holocausts. On the other hand, for the Holocaust deniers, the Jewish Holocaust is a hoax, something that didn’t happen: a myth created by the Jews. But what should we do when a Gentile that allegedly witnessed the Holocaust confronts us with his memories?

Few know that a few hundred British prisoners of war were sent to Auschwitz. One of them was Arthur Dodd. I dare not say that Dodd is to be believed in everything he tells, for at times his story sounds like something out of a Hollywood movie script. But neither can we say that what Dodd tells is a Jewish tale, since ethnically he was English. As the Russians approached Auschwitz Dodd recounts that, in desperation, the guards committed a real atrocity:

SS guards were shouting and whipping a number of Jews who were being forced to throw the carcasses of dozens of their dead comrades into a bonfire. The ground on which the fire was built had been hollowed out and so the bodies and materials were being thrown down to the flames.

Suddenly, Arthur was horrified to see small children being brought into the yard. He felt the bile rise in his throat as the children were kicked and booted into the fire… Arthur staggered back to his hut, the screams of the children still ringing in his ears.[3]

Later Michael Evans, the author of the The Times article, writes: ‘Auschwitz is still the first thing he thinks of every morning’.

I clipped this newspaper story when I lived in Manchester. What to make of these memoirs? The most straightforward answer is that, if Arthur Dodd’s account is true, the mainstream media will never mention the equivalent cases of the other Holocaust, the one the Allies committed that year and up to 1947. (Recall, for example, Tom Goodrich’s account in his book of how the Soviets themselves crucified German babies—literally crucified them—in a Prussian village as their Red Army advanced. )

All this horror, on both sides, could have been avoided if Churchill hadn’t declared war on Hitler, since the latter’s original plan implied non-genocidal Jewish deportation to Madagascar, which could have happened if WW2 hadn’t been declared. Pat Buchanan says this in his book Churchill, Hitler, and the Unnecessary War: How Britain Lost Its Empire and the West Lost the World.

I am pleased that, in times much more recent than the publication of the Buchanan book, Tucker Carlson has invited a revisionist who sees in Churchill, not Hitler, the real villain of our movie, the West’s darkest hour with its millions of migrants to bastardize the Aryan race. But for our ideology to become more rhetorical for the normie’s Overton window, rather than denying the Jewish Holocaust I think it is more astute the path chosen by Goodrich: to talk about the other Holocaust, the Holocaust that almost nobody talks about.

 
_____________

[1] Ulm court case against Bernhard Fischer-Schweder, August 29, 1958, Ks 2/57.

[2] RSHA IV-A-1, Report on Operations in the USSR, No. 86, NO-3151.

[3] Michael Evans: ‘An Englishman at Auschwitz’, The Times, 2 November 1998.

Categories
Benjamin (commenter) Racial right

Quietness

by Benjamin

I feel very frustrated that comments on WDH have on the whole tailed off. Where did they all disappear to? Or were they timewasters in the first place? I didn’t think so. I dislike the quietness. It’s like they’ve all lost their spines. I don’t know if they’re demoralised, or simply ideologically opposed all of a sudden when National Socialism didn’t turn out what they wanted it to be/didn’t turn out to be ‘hardcore’ WN with swastikas. I imagine it’s the Christian question, but more so especially the trauma model and animal rights that gets them the most—most people are cruel; I’ve gathered that, and resent being forced to high moral standards.

I had an obvious thought as to the commenters, and commenters in general. I notice the most responses are always to the ‘what was done in the war/what could have been done instead in the war’ topic set. It’s because, I think, this topic is basically abstract, and doesn’t require personal change. One can mull over nerdy history perspectives all day long, massaging tiny new snippets of information in.

But to discuss ethics is more of a quality than a slew of mere information, and brings the person in question into the debate, not just the abstract at arms length, and thus is harder to massage into their already-rigid position, as, for once in their lives, coming from the dissident right in general as they are, they are encouraged to see ‘the mentally ill’ not as hate objects, but as victims of parental cruelty, and, more than that, are encouraged to realise that by eating meat they are causing unnecessary suffering, and are so evil in some sense.

That takes too much effort to change over compared with editing in a tiny new snippet of historical insight here and there, or piping up with more. I don’t personally know a huge deal about that point in history (though like to learn), and I don’t have an endless fascination with regurgitating facts one could find in a book if they wanted.

I think that’s the root of it, qualities versus facts-by-rote. It’s a hard situation to get around.

If I wanted endless Jew-bait, as I call it (a pun on click-bait), I’d just go to The Unz Review. Don’t get me wrong, I consider it a problem, but Jews don’t really play on my mind much these days, unlike Christianized whites. The more they look at Jews, the more excuse they have, and the less they see themselves. Only when they see themselves, and tackle themselves, can they mount any sensible attack on their enemies.

I hope you have some new blood soon. At one point there were over 40 people, right? I count loads of commenters, and I get frustrated when the ones I like drop away. They should understand, as you say, that yes, the Jewish Question is a given, and we’ve all done it to death (if not, the SS Pamphlets cover it pretty well) but the Christian Question encapsulates everything. If not for the latter, these ignorant mercantile commenters really are no different to Jews in my eyes. They worship and obey the principles of the same alien god.
 

Editor’s 2 ¢:

I think the Christian issue has really alienated the dissident right from this forum, and the fact that I barely mentions Jews.

The position of this site, following the four words, is: Be kind to abused animals and children, and tough on the exterminable Neanderthals who abuse them. Conversely, the WN position in general is based on Christian ethics: Love one another, and exterminationism is unthinkable anathema.

To the commenters:

I wonder, if Ben and I launched a podcast talking about all of this (a WDH transformed from written word to spoken word, inviting listeners to speak to the show), would you come back?

Categories
Axiology Racial right

Neonormies

Or:

On Old and New Tablets

A passage in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, ‘On Old and New Tablets’, inspires me for this post. But before I continue with the routine of this site (perhaps my next post will be one more passage from Irving’s book on Himmler), I would like to clarify something about today’s previous post.

The pair of four words, Gens alba conservanda est (White people must be preserved) and ¡Eliminad todo sufrimiento innecesario! (Let us eliminate all unnecessary suffering!), define the two commandments, or new conception of right and wrong, in our new Tablets of the Law.

The second commandment is given because of the colossal hells that some abusive humans inflict on their children, or the defenceless animals at their mercy.

That doesn’t mean that only those who already have these two commandments as their religion can be my comrades. Although Hitler was surprised when Himmler confessed to him that he still practised hunting with other Nazis, Uncle Adolf couldn’t have formed a political movement if he repudiated them. But it is obvious that a priest of the holy words has already taken his vows to fulfil both commandments (vows that non-priests aren’t yet capable of fulfilling because they lack the compassion we have developed).

Another thing I would like to say today is something else about my eternal quarrel with the American racial right. Yesterday I saw a video by Jared Taylor about the recent attacks in Germany perpetrated by a sandnigger. Taylor mocks the fact that the Eurocrats have been ‘speechless’ and ‘stunned’ after the massacre of civilian Germans. However, as a good Christian or secular neochristian (Taylor has never confessed whether he still believes in the religion of his parents) he fails to realise that these Eurocrats have taken Christian morality to its ultimate consequences (forgive your enemies, never allow yourself to hate them, turn the other cheek if they attack you, etc.).

While I watched the entire Taylor video, I didn’t read the recent Counter-Currents article on the massacre. I merely read the first two comments in that thread, where the first thing a couple of commenters did was say ‘Merry Christmas’.

Apparently, neither the commenters nor the author of that article are aware that it was precisely that Christianity that they still celebrate at Christmas that caused not only the massacre, but the previous massacres perpetrated by the jihadis that Taylor mentions in his video, and the massacres that other sandniggers will perpetrate in the future! Just as George Washington and the other Founding Cucks enabled Jewish infection in their brand new country, so the religion that conquered the Aryan soul has imposed on whites Semitic commandments diametrically opposed to the two commandments of our Tablets of the Law.

No, there was no point in reading either C-C’s article or the rest of the comments. The only thing to reiterate is that those on the racial right are neo-normies, not 21st-century National Socialists who have woken up to the real world.

Categories
Art Neanderthalism Welfare of animals

‘Emergency’

I was going to post another Might is Right instalment today but I got to thinking about my recent exchanges with Benjamin in various threads, and I feel I should say a few things.

I sometimes check the number of comments on old threads, back when WDH was hosted for free by WordPress, and I’m surprised that there were threads with dozens of comments. Since I started criticising American white nationalism, calling it deficient compared to German National Socialism, and shifting my paradigm from regarding the Christian problem as infinitely more serious than the Jewish problem, the visitor traffic has collapsed.

This is compounded by the fact that, as an immense admirer of Hitler myself, the German Chancellor’s sensitivity to art and animal welfare is something that simply doesn’t exist on the American racial right.

The immense dilemma I find myself in is that this sort of thing cannot be explained by pure reason, say, by solid race realist articles like the ones Jared Taylor has been publishing for decades. It has more to do with what we might call emergent psychogenics, which I have already discussed in Day of Wrath (a book that is nothing more than a translation of some chapters of my trilogy).

Psychogenic emergency is either felt or not. Or rather: either one belongs to a higher psychoclass, or one doesn’t belong to it. As I said, it is not something that can be demonstrated by pure reason. On seeing a work of art, such as the Lorraine canvas I saw on my last trip to London, the museum visitor either feels the emergent aesthetics compared to the architectural Neanderthalism of the largest city in Europe, or he feels nothing at all. Those 18th-century Englishmen like Henry Hoare who were aesthetically emergent even designed their gardens in imitation of the Italian painter’s architecture. Either you feel art or you don’t.

Incidentally, the bridge in Stourhead’s garden whose image I posted in June in this article was also used by Kubrick in one of the scenes in Barry Lyndon: a film whose images were inspired by canvases of the period like very few films I have seen. (Perhaps the sole exception is 1956’s Lust for Life in which the director used the actual sites in Holland, Belgium and the French countryside where Vincent van Gogh lived.)

The fourteen words have to do with aesthetics, in that the white race is the only truly beautiful race from the point of view of the Gods of Olympus. The other issue is ethics, the four words, Eliminad todo sufrimiento innecesario. Like great art, you either feel the four words or you don’t. Either you are a Neanderthal (Benjamin sent me an email today describing experiments on rabbits that I don’t even want to describe) or you are an overman like Hitler, and Göring who forbade tormenting those animals.

The sad truth is that most American racialists have not reached the psychogenic level of the Führer in terms of ethics and aesthetics, and that those emergent qualities cannot be induced by arguments, criticisms or diatribes like the ones I have used in this blog. Either you start psychogenically emerging as a child or an adolescent (cf. Kubizek’s memoirs of Hitler when they were both teenagers) or you won’t.

Categories
Nature Welfare of animals

Thaw

As some of my regular visitors know, what I fear most in the event of the Aryan man becoming extinct is the fate of the animals at the hands of the more primitive versions of humans that would survive him, which in my soliloquies I call ‘Neanderthals’.

I have been watching amazing videos of a whale shark asking for help (oh how can it do so without verbal language!) from divers to remove a piece of rubbish attached to her body. Yesterday I saw other similar videos of a whale that also had rubbish stuck to him and another one with some orcas that got entangled in a human net. The non-verbal way in which these creatures call for help is striking! It is obvious that they have an intelligence of their own; and the compassionate instinct to help an entangled animal, a task that cost divers hours of hard work, is absent in non-Aryans.

The rescuers of these animals are always Aryans. If the race disappears, we can imagine the fate that awaits the animals on a planet that only the coloureds would inhabit. For example, we can already imagine the Chinese inheriting the Earth if the Aryan suicide is consummated…

The catastrophes we have predicted will only affect human societies: the collapse of fiat currencies and the energy devolution resulting from the gradual depletion of oil fields. But I have not discussed global warming on this site.

Yesterday I was watching videos about the melting of permafrost across the Arctic (e.g. this one). The social catastrophes we have talked about would not exterminate Homo sapiens, let alone the Homo sapiens neanderthalensis. But if the permafrost in Siberian Russia, Canada and the rest of the Arctic melts, the methane that the microbes would expel into the atmosphere would cause the Earth to warm up to a runaway greenhouse effect.

So if the Aryan goes extinct, Nature itself could take care of exterminating the surviving Neanderthals.

That’s my Good News, my gospel! Remember that the four words are not only Gens alba conservanda est but Eliminad todo sufrimiento innecesario: whereas only the most psychogenically emergent Aryans have behaved nobly towards our biological cousins. If Aryan man sinned in repudiating Heydrich and Himmler’s noble project of ethnic cleansing, Nature herself would see it through.

As Savitri Devi observed, you cannot denazify the Gods.

Categories
Martin Kerr

Edited

I have edited the featured article ‘The Wall’ originally posted on January 1st. It originally contained this sentence:

How many are legitimate heirs, like Savitri, of the religion bequeathed to us by the avatar of Vishnu? None that I know of, if we take into account Martin Kerr’s definition of National Socialism: a way of life devoted body and soul to the fulfilment of the sacred words!

Emphasis added. I have changed that sentence to this one:

How many are legitimate heirs, like Savitri, of the religion bequeathed to us by the avatar of Vishnu? Apparently there are two of us, if we consider Martin Kerr’s definition of a genuine National Socialist: a way of life dedicated body and soul to the fulfilment of sacred words.

The reason for this change is the recent visit I received from a European, as we saw in the entries ‘Ancient Mexico’ and ‘Teotihuacan’. So I have reposted ‘The Wall’ this August day, with the above modification.

Taking vows before the sacred tree.

If you want to take your vows and become the third priest of the sacred words, you know the price…

Gens alba conservanda est

Eliminemos todo sufrimiento innecesario

Categories
Lightning and the Sun (book)

The Lightning

and the Sun, 1

I will start adding my aggregations to some passages from Savitri Devi’s most famous book. The priestess was a sort of female counterpart of what I now call ‘priest of the sacred words’.

I refer to two sentences of four words each, one in Latin, and one in Spanish (I came up with the last one): Gens alba conservanda est—‘The white race must be preserved’—and Eliminemos todo sufrimiento innecesario—‘Let us eliminate all unnecessary suffering’: aesthetics and ethics.

Savitri Devi published The Lightning and the Sun the year I was born. Like her, I believe that National Socialism, as devised by Hitler, is not a fixed religion but a continually developing one. For example, in quoting early passages from Brendan Simms’ book on this site I published young Adolf’s first political testimony: a letter in which he blames Jewry for his country’s ills. However, when one reads the mature Adolf one discovers that, in addition to this insight, Hitler mentioned Christianity more when looking for culprits (e.g. in his after-dinner talks).

Just as Hitler evolved over the years, I will be offering my opinion on matters that, decades after Savitri wrote her book, I differ slightly from her.

The Lightning and the Sun runs on this premise: The lightning to overwhelm everything in its path, including genocides and holocausts the likes of which history had never seen, is represented by Genghis Khan. The sun of metaphysical understanding, on the other hand, is represented by the Egyptian king Akhenaten. A combination of lightning and sun would be the modern avatar that will save the Aryan! I will be using the hardback edition published in 2015 by Counter-Currents.

The first page of chapter 12, ‘The Late-Born Child of Light’, contains this paragraph:

Especially for the past hundred years, i.e., since the outbreak of the French Revolution, Europe had been sinking, more speedily than ever, under the influence of international Jewry and of its cunning agents: Free Masonry, and the various so-called ‘spiritual’ secret bodies directly or indirectly affiliated to it. Centuries of erroneous [emphasis added] application of Christianity—an essentially other-worldly creed—to worldly affairs, had prepared the ground for the triumph of the most dangerous superstitions: the belief in the ‘equal rights’ of ‘all men’ to life and ‘happiness’ [page 211]…

I added emphasis because I think Savitri is wrong to say that historical Christian praxis was ‘erroneous’. It wasn’t. While Savitri was hostile to Christianity, the priestess didn’t yet have the perspective we now have (see for example Eduardo Velasco’s masterful essay on Rome and Judea in The Fair Race). In other words, there are no redeemable esoteric aspects in Christianity (regardless of the exoteric aspects).

On that first page of that first chapter on Hitler—the previous eleven chapters were devoted to Genghis Khan and Akhenaten—Savitri includes a footnote worth quoting:

I say ‘over two millenniums’ meaning that the disintegrating influence of Jewry upon the Aryan race began before the advent of Christianity. The disastrous new scale of values drawn from the misapplied other-worldly religion, and the spreading of the creed itself, were the consequences of Jewish influence, not its causes.

‘This disastrous new scale of values’ she wrote. Can you see why Savitri seems to me to be my perfect kindred spirit? But she wrote at a time when what we now know about the criminal history of the first Christian millennium hadn’t been popularised (see Deschner’s books in our featured post).

And colonialism was at its height, and Christian missionary activity also. Which means that, after having given herself up to the forces of disintegration, Europe was rapidly handing the rest of the world over to them; preparing the very last phase of the Dark Age: the state of biological chaos which is the preliminary condition of the rule of the worst and the systematic annihilation of any surviving human élite of blood and character.

At that time, an elderly, honest and hard-working Customs officer lived with his wife and family in Braunau, a pretty little town on the river Inn, on the border of Austria and Germany. The town, with its main square, on one side of which an old fountain, dominated by a stone statue of Christ, is still to be seen; with its old houses and churches, its old streets—clean, but often narrow—and the four-storied ‘tower’—Salzburger Turm—that already separated the main square from ‘the Suburb’ [Die Vorstadt]…

His wife, Clara, was pretty: blonde, with magnificent blue eyes. Aged twenty-nine only (she was his third wife) she was of an ardent, thoughtful and self-possessed nature; as imaginative and intuitive as her husband was unromantically painstaking; as loving as he was dutiful; and capable of endless sustained sacrifice. She respected him deeply; he was her husband…

The Child was christened Adolf… the incarnate collective Self of superior mankind… His even greater task, namely that of awakening the Western Aryan Soul to its own natural wisdom. Aryan Wisdom, in its conscious, warrior-like form, in opposition to all the traditional values of Christianity, was unknown in the Western world of the time, let alone in Braunau on the Inn—unknown, at least, to all but a few lonely thinkers such as Friedrich Nietzsche…

Written in Emsdetten in Westfalen
on the 14th of August, 1954.

It is already seventy years since Savitri wrote those words. I will be quoting other excerpts from her book throughout the rest of the year.

Categories
Racial right

Heydrich, 3

In the film, the meeting that starts at this moment makes me think…

Had it not been for the Anglo-Americans, these are the kind of meetings that would exist today in the centre of a Europe completely conquered by the Third Reich instead of the meetings where the Russians now have the power over the destiny of Europe.

If the white race is to survive, sooner or later the English and Americans will have to make a truly astronomical humility cure—i.e, swallow their pride—and do a centuries-long penance for the blunder their ancestors committed in the 20th century (and 21st century by continuing to defame Hitler).

Incidentally, as far as my Tuesday post about the impostor is concerned, I learned a lesson.

I shouldn’t drop names when criticising the racial right because, sometimes, I will need their favours. For example, the moderator of Counter-Currents did me the courtesy of clarifying, in the comments thread, that the impostor who in various racialist forums has been trolling me for six years was a troll and not the real César Tort. Like it or not, from now on I won’t drop names because I have had the experience that some moderators of other racialist forums have been so susceptible to my criticisms that they continued to let the comments of that impostor pass, under my name, even after I repeatedly informed them by email that the impostor wasn’t me.

So from now on my criticisms of the racial right will omit the names of the specific persons, so as not to unnecessarily hurt their susceptibilities.

In any case, the regular visitor to this site is well aware that my ideological difference with them lies precisely in the fact that they don’t think like Heydrich and his SS gang, as we see at the round table in the film. The racial right still lives under the sky of Christian morality, and we want to practice genocides like Genghis Khan for the simple fact that we must comply with the four words (‘eliminate all unnecessary suffering’). And if humans are the devils of the animals on earth, to save them we must dispatch them. Always keep in mind that the first measures taken by the Nazis when they came to power were precisely to prohibit vivisection and many other unnecessary sufferings of our cousins!

Those who do not feel such compassion for animals will never understand National Socialism, and I would suggest that they stop visiting racialist forums and read instead Savitri Devi’s Impeachment of Man, which touches on the issue of unnecessary cruelty to animals.

In the next post of this series, I will see if it is worth quoting some specific words of these SS officers at the round table…

Categories
On Exterminationism (book) Welfare of animals

Sociopathy or empathy?

by Gaedhal

As Aron Ra puts it: sociopathy and empathy are competing evolutionary strategies. Hence why we observe both in nature, and especially in man. My essay in César’s anthology, On Exterminationism, was about the problem of evil. I want to see a day when empathy reigns upon this planet…

However, in my view, empathy can only reign on this planet after we win the race war. The Chinese and the Japanese, for one thing, have no empathy for wildlife. The Chinese starve tigers to death for tiger meat, and the Japanese eat live octopuses and kill cetaceans for fun. Jews swing chickens and engage in Kosher slaughter. Halal slaughter is likewise barbaric and an affront to decency and empathy. A world that is empathetic to wildlife has to be a white world.