When Only One Side Fights a War

On May 20, 1995, an article by Paul Sheehan was printed in The Sydney Morning Herald, an Australian newspaper. The article was entitled, “The Race War of Black Against White.”

The longest war America has ever fought is the Dirty War, and it is not over. It has lasted 30 years so far and claimed more than 25 million victims. It has cost almost as many lives as the Vietnam War. It determined the results of last year’s congressional election.

Yet the American news media do not want to talk about the Dirty War, which remains between the lines and unreported. In fact, to even suggest that the war exists is to be discredited. So let’s start suggesting, immediately.

Mr. Sheehan then goes on to list the horrible carnage that has taken place in the black war against whites. The statistics merely confirm what all whites know, but it is chilling to read the actual body count.

Sheehan concludes with an accurate account of the American establishment’s culpability in the white genocide:

When all the crime figures are calculated, it appears that black Americans have committed at least 170 million crimes against white Americans in the past 30 years. It is the great defining disaster of American life and American ideals since World War II.

All these are facts, yet by simply writing this story, by assembling the facts in this way, I would be deemed a racist by the American news media. It prefers to maintain a paternalistic double-standard in its coverage of black America, a lower standard.

When I published Sheehan’s article about 12 years ago, a gentleman wrote me to ask if I could think of any time in history when there was a war in which only one side was fighting. I couldn’t think of any example. Indeed, I think our situation (along with the other European nations) is unique. And of course it is unique because Europeans are unique. We were the Christ-bearers, the only people to accept Christianity in depth and breadth. When we believed in our civilization and the God-Man who inspired it, we were strong and we protected our sacred civilization and our people. And we were respected and feared by the colored people. But as we ceased to believe in our God, we ceased to believe in our civilization and consequently were no longer willing to take the measures necessary to defend ourselves. The coloreds passionately believe in their various pagan faiths but we no longer believe in our Faith. And please spare me the ridiculous suggestion that we jettison Christ and go back to our Greco-Roman heritage. No, we are irretrievably linked to Him, and a curse on those who would wish it otherwise, and as our passion for Him declines so will our love for European civilization decline. In his book, In Search of England, H. V. Morton has this to say about Tintagel:

I have all my life thought of Tintagel as one of those places which no man should see. For eight hundred years the story of that king who rides down history on a harpstring has soaked itself into the imagination of the English people. Charlemagne for France; Arthur for England. The story grew here. On this grey rock above the sea, Uther Pendragon took that lovely queen, Igerne; and so began the story that ran through medieval Europe challenging the imagination of poet and writer, gathering strength and beauty, to break at last in the splendid climax of the ‘Grail’ music…

Tin-tagel!...

At night, with the moon, falling over the tumbled walls, Tintagel seems more dead than ever: the ruins of Egypt leap to life in the moonlight, so do many of our castles and abbeys; but Tintagel is to be found only within the covers of a book. And I thought, as I looked down on it from the other side of the valley, saw the thin line of light run along the walls, picking out a gateway here and a crumbled corner there, that most of us have belonged to that Round Table – so many of us, in fact, that if Arthur came back to give us youth again and called us out to joyous adventures he would have an army great enough to ride from Camelot to the conquest of the earth.

But he could not make that claim today. Arthur could not find an army to ride with him. In order to do that European man would have to throw away his little paper gods, his constitutions and his catechisms. He would have to place his hand on the sword and swear to fight without ceasing until the heathen were driven into the sea and the true King was on the throne. “But of course that’s just silly, impractical nonsense,” says the empirical man. Well, it might seem impractical, but it really is the only genuine solution to the white man’s dilemma. We have all read the Death of the West books, from Burham to Buchanan. And in the statistical realm, the empirical realm, we are dead. The colored hordes are upon us and they outnumber us. But numbers only matter in the world of the white techno barbarians and the colored barbarians. Since when has a European Christian knight ever been deterred by mere numbers? What did Sir Galahad say?

My good blade carves the casques of men
My tough lance thrusteth sure,
My strength is as the strength of ten,
Because my heart is pure.

Look who is at the heart of European civilization. Nothing was impossible for the Europeans, from Charles Martel, to Cortez, to Gordon, and the endless legion of the red cross knights of Europe who rode under His banner to do battle with the barbarian hordes. The blood red tide is loosed because we have attempted to stop the bleeding wounds of Europe with democratic antiseptic instead of a fiery cross. Place the cross on the wound, it will heal. However, to do that we need faith. But I think faith comes from love. If we look at Europe, the real Europe, the Europe of the Christian hearth, the evening lingerings, we will love it. And then we will up and ride, and we will fight, not as the heathen fights, until tired or sated, but we will fight without ceasing until Europe is European again and America is European again.