Friday, September 05, 2008

The Whiteman at Bay

I do not subscribe to the traditionalist Catholic viewpoint of history which claims that the 13th century was the apogee of Christian civilization, followed by a steady decline in every subsequent century. Nor do I agree with the Protestants who view all of European history prior to the Reformation as the age of darkness, in contrast to the post-Reformation age of light. I have a personal preference (for reasons I have stated in an earlier article) for the 19th century, but I see all of European man’s history, prior to the 20th century, as a successful effort, the only successful effort in the history of mankind, to keep Satan at bay. And by saying that, I do not mean to suggest that Satan has not had his individual successes within European civilization. What I am affirming is that Europeans, despite the onslaughts of Satan, had maintained a civilization that acknowledged the light of the world and were aware of their obligations to stay focused on that light.

All dates on a matter such as the decline of the West are arbitrary, but I think 1914 is a fairly accurate date to use when we are talking about the point in history when Satan was no longer being kept at bay. He was loose. And by the mid-1960’s he had institutionalized his values throughout all of Christian Europe. So now the white Christian male is being kept at bay by Satan.

As one who is opposed to the reign of Satan, I am concerned about the failure in the last fifty years of every European counterattack. It would seem, judging by the recent European failures to uproot him, that Satan is very difficult to uproot once he has taken up residence in a civilization. But is he invincible? Our ancestors’ success against him indicates that he is not.

What then do we lack that our ancestors had? We lack the heroic, integral way of responding to adversity. We no longer see an evil and say, “this must not go on,” (1) and strike out at the evil. Instead, we form “think tanks” and study groups. We spend years of fruitless effort in trying to get someone elected who will address the particular evil we are trying to combat. In short, we are Hamlet prior to his conversion from confused graduate student to the lawful King of Denmark. We are “crawling around between heaven and earth.”

Satan wants European man to see life as an intelligence test in which the person with the highest score wins. But when we perceive life as Satan does, we always lose. We lose because we are not angelic beings. When we abstract our minds from our blood, we become like unto Satan, because when we abstract, we “believe a lie.”

To abstracted reason, evil appears good because it seems pleasurable, while virtue appears evil because it seems painful. In order to discover that the reverse is true, mankind must resist the pleasures in which their abstracted minds encourage them to indulge and perform the virtuous deeds that their blood, animated by His spirit, calls on them to perform. I have known women who rejected motherhood because they could not stand the idea of pain. And yet what mother does not rejoice when she gives birth? In Shakespeare’s poem, “The Rape of Lucrece,” Sextus Tarquinius cannot resist his idée fixe; he must have the fair Lucrece. With what result?

Even in this thought through the dark night he stealeth,
A captive victor that hath lost in gain;
Bearing away the wound that nothing healeth,
The scar that will, despite of cure, remain;
Leaving his spoil perplex'd in greater pain.
She bears the load of lust he left behind,
And he the burden of a guilty mind.
He like a thievish dog creeps sadly thence;
She like a wearied lamb lies panting there;
He scowls and hates himself for his offence;
She, desperate, with her nails her flesh doth tear;
He faintly flies, sneaking with guilty fear;
She stays, exclaiming on the direful night;
He runs, and chides his vanish'd, loath’d delight.
Our ancestors who built Christian Europe lived life in the heroic mode. They did not feel called upon to match wits with the devil. They felt called upon to defend their souls and their civilization from the onslaughts of the devil. The Christian hero cares only about one thing: Is his cause God’s cause? And if it is, he sallies forth and leaves the rest to God.

There's a special Providence in the fall of a sparrow.
If it be now, 'tis not to come: if it be not to
come, it will be now: if it be not now,
yet it will come; the readiness is all.
Since no man has ought of what he
leaves. What is't to leave betimes?

Every society has men of courage. But it takes more than courage to maintain a Christian civilization or to mount a counterattack against a satanic civilization. It takes courage and vision. And the “vision thing” of which George Bush senior was so dismissive is what has been lacking and is still lacking in the ranks of the far right.

Twenty-five years ago I would have called the abortion issue the central issue of our times. But now I see that legalized abortion is the result of the anti-European ethos of the modern world. Anti-European whites legalized it and anti-European whites and barbarians of color constitute the unholy alliance that maintains legalized infanticide. Thus, the central issue is the restoration of Christian Europe. From that restoration will come the restoration of laws protecting babies in their mother’s wombs and other laws necessary for the welfare of a Christian people. But first there must be a restoration. And that is why the Sons of Martha should never and can never lead a counterrevolutionary movement. The Sons of Martha always get lost in the household details of the movement and lose sight of the real issue of the war. The restoration of white civilization, for instance, cannot be divorced from the issue of the restoration of Christian civilization. But the Sons of Martha divorce the two. They see that there are professed white Christians maniacally opposed to white Europeans and that there are professed white Christians who are in favor of segregation and white sovereignty in white countries. So instead of trying to ascertain who are the true Christians, they treat Christianity as a washout and look for a more practical way to bring people to the banner of White Europe. But in doing so, they leave their movement without a metaphysic.

This fact was made abundantly clear to me a few years back when I read an article by an American Son of Martha in a right-wing British magazine called The Spearhead. The author maintained that white people needed a religion of their own to replace Christianity if they were going to combat the anti-European forces arrayed against them. In his Son of Martha logic, religion was something one could simply pick up for pragmatic purposes. “We need a religion to beat the barbarians – let’s buy one at the religion store.” It doesn’t work that way, of course. European man has a religion, he has the religion, and it has always been his religion. When the barbarian truly converts to the white man’s religion, he supports the white hierarchy. In Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn’s encyclopedic work on Europe, he tells in the chapter on Britain of an old Indian (the real India) who wistfully yearns for the return of the British Rajah. That old man is the British equivalent of Uncle Remus.

The good news for white folk is that the Sons of Mary have not yet begun to fight. The liberals and the barbarians have only beaten the Sons of Martha. But the bad news is that the Sons of Martha show no signs of stepping down and recognizing that the “impractical” Sons of Mary are the only men who have the vision to lead a successful counterrevolution. The Sons of Martha do not believe that “without vision the people perish.” They believe that what rationalism has destroyed, namely Western civilization, rationalism can restore. ‘Tis not so, it never has been, and it never will be. Only a faith that holds the purely rational, the purely empirical, and the purely scientific in contempt can hope to breach the walls and eventually capture and destroy Castle Babylon. +
(1) Squeers caught the boy firmly in his grip; one desperate cut had fallen on his body--he was wincing from the lash and uttering a scream of pain--it was raised again, and again about to fall--when Nicholas Nickleby, suddenly starting up, cried 'Stop!' in a voice that made the rafters ring.

'Who cried stop?' said Squeers, turning savagely round.

'I,' said Nicholas, stepping forward. 'This must not go on.'

'Must not go on!' cried Squeers, almost in a shriek.

'No!' thundered Nicholas.

Aghast and stupefied by the boldness of the interference, Squeers released his hold of Smike, and, falling back a pace or two, gazed upon Nicholas with looks that were positively frightful.

'I say must not,' repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted; 'shall not. I will prevent it.'

Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting out of his head; but astonishment had actually, for the moment, bereft him of speech.

'You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the miserable lad's behalf,' said Nicholas; 'you have returned no answer to the letter in which I begged forgiveness for him, and offered to be responsible that he would remain quietly here. Don't blame me for this public interference. You have brought it upon yourself; not I.'

'Sit down, beggar!' screamed Squeers, almost beside himself with rage, and seizing Smike as he spoke.

'Wretch,' rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, 'touch him at your peril! I will not stand by, and see it done. My blood is up, and I have the strength of ten such men as you. Look to yourself, for by Heaven I will not spare you, if you drive me on!'

'Stand back,' cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon.

'I have a long series of insults to avenge,' said Nicholas, flushed with passion; 'and my indignation is aggravated by the dastardly cruelties practised on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a care; for if you do raise the devil within me, the consequences shall fall heavily upon your own head!'

He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent outbreak of wrath, and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, spat upon him, and struck him a blow across the face with his instrument of torture, which raised up a bar of livid flesh as it was inflicted. Smarting with the agony of the blow, and concentrating into that one moment all his feelings of rage, scorn, and indignation, Nicholas sprang upon him, wrested the weapon from his hand, and pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian till he roared for mercy.

--Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens

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