Sunday, September 10, 2017

Where We're Most Likely Going From Here



[This is an updated version of my Charlottesville assessment of last month. - HAC]

The Charlottesville episode of August 11-12 was a highly significant milestone in North American biopolitics. I have commented elsewhere on those events and I don’t want simply to rehash what I’ve already said on Radio Free Northwest and the Thoughtcrime blog. Let’s see if I can go at this from another angle.

I suppose it was inevitable that a new Fearless Leader would arise among us, although frankly I had kind of hoped we could avoid that part of oncoming events, since it will almost certainly be a waste of time and a potentially deadly distraction from the real objective, which is the creation of a separatist White ethnostate here on the North American continent. I have severe reservations about the character of Richard Spencer, not least being his apparent easy toleration for perversions of the body and his background as a scion of the One Percent. (At least Spencer doesn’t have to worry about money, which I admit I envy him.)  There were also some fairly serious allegations regarding Spencer’s conduct on the Charlottesville rally field raised by Billy Roper, but for whatever reason Billy chose not to follow them up.

I find some of Spencer’s gaffes to be more troubling than others. I simply don’t get his bizarre laissez-faire attitude toward the revolting practice of buggery. It’s not as if I expect Spencer to comport himself like the pastor of the Westboro Baptist Church, but this no-queers thing is a standard WN box. Why is it so bloody difficult to get him to check it? Spencer’s public cavorting last year with the Vietnamese celebwhore Tila Tequila might have been written off as mere tone-deaf high spirits in the wake of the Trump victory, by a Fearless Leader who still hadn’t quite found his feet yet—okay, not written off by me, but then I’m told I’m a notorious “purity spiraller.”

But there are other things about this man that make my spidey sense tingle. This may be petty and lack imagination, but I’m sorry, I have difficulty trusting someone who used to hang out with the Bush daughters at hoity-toity lake resorts in Texas. Having come from a much lower stratum of the monied élite myself, albeit admittedly long ago, I can assure you that kind of people exist solely in and for their own world and have no sympathy at all for anyone outside of it, and they will always act in their own narrow class interests.  I have yet to see any sign that Spencer is different.

A Showman of Skill

As I have done in previous commentaries, I need to begin by acknowledging Spencer’s unquestioned intelligence and dramatic flare. Given some bodies to work with, he has proven to be a master of street theater and choreography. I don’t say that in any sarcastic way: political choreography is an art form and we need people with that talent.  Spencer’s achievements so far have been impressive.

He did what we’ve all been trying to do for a long time, or rather what we’ve claimed with varying degrees of sincerity we wanted to do. He got a significant number of young White males actually to come out from behind their computers and get their asses into the street. Better still, from appearances they were mostly physically fit and  height-weight proportional, not decrepit old men like me with our canes and Maalox bottles in our pockets, and not flabby obvious dwellers in Mom’s basement whose eyes blinked on emerging into the light. The best estimate I can get from some guys who were there is between 400 and 500 people, not "thousands" as has been reported by the hysterical media. Those torches multiply the apparent size of any crowd.

I also have to concede that there was one point on the night of August the 11th wherein Spencer made history, when hundreds of torch-bearing White people actually surrounded a little band of antifa led by a creature who looked and sounded like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. That is the only time in my life I have ever seen us outnumber these scum, and I will always be grateful to Mr. Spencer for that one optic alone.

I have been accused by those who have imbibed the Spencer kool-aid of poo-pooing his accomplishment out of jealousy. I understand the knee-jerk Movement reaction assigning impure motives to any criticism; it is very often true. That’s not the case here. For one thing I’m too old to be jealous. One of the hard realities one has to accept as part and parcel of growing old is that younger men are going to come along and follow in your footsteps, and I do accept it. Just not this particular younger man. If I could be convinced that Elwood really is our Man on a White Horse I’d be telling everybody so. But he’s not. There are just too many things about him that are a little off-kilter. Richard Spencer doesn’t pass the sniff test. I’m sorry. I know how much you all wanted a for-real Man on a White Horse.

I’m going to refer to Spencer’s shindig with a kind of royal “we,” since whether we like it or not, and regardless of whether it’s accurate or not, the media has now officially coronated Richard Spencer as our Fearless Leader, and from now on everything he does and says will be treated like a Pope of Rome speaking ex cathedra. He will be speaking and acting for us whether we want him to or not, because the media has so decided. I have often protested against this practice of allowing the enemy to choose our leaders and our public spokesmen, but as with so much else I say, it goes in one ear and out the other. So when I use the term “we” from now on with reference to the alt.right in general and Elwood in particular, I am referring to the perception that the public has, including a large portion of the White nationalist internet audience.

The fact is that as good an effort as this was by the standards of our wee little Movement, we still laid on months of preparation and hard work and had people driving or flying thousands of miles from all over the continent, in order to bring together roughly the same number of people as a moderately large wedding reception. There just aren’t that many of us. Which is another reason we need as many as possible living in communities a half an hour’s drive from one another.

The legal consequences of Charlottesville are still unfolding. Spencer is already named as a defendant in at least one wrongful death lawsuit, plus I believe that he is also filing an action of his own against the authorities who ordered the police to stand down. Those SLAPP suits can gobble up the shekels like popcorn. They are usually filed by wealthy people against poor people who can’t afford attorneys in an attempt to coerce the poor into knuckling under through threat of bankruptcy and death under the highway overpass, their shopping cart beside them. Mr. Spencer is going to need every penny of Mom and Dad’s money, and there may be further difficulties in that he himself is being investigated by the comically mis-named “Department of Justice.” A young man panicked when his vehicle was surrounded by violent lefty-brats who attacked him and tried to pull him out of the car, and he hit the accelerator in an attempt to escape the frenzied mob. How, precisely, this is in any way shape or form Richard Spencer’s fault is difficult to discern, but as I could have told him long ago, our crime is not what we do. Our crime is that we exist.

My guess is that at least as far as numerical attendance goes, this Charlottesville gig will prove to be Richard Spencer’s high water mark. I don’t think he’ll be able to bring that many people together, tiki torch in hand, ever again. I think among other things the legal consequences growing out of August 12th will take Spencer years to get clear of. But we’ll see how that plays out.

In addition to which, the lefty brats aren’t the only ones who have snowflakes among them. Now that alt.right types understand that what we do is dangerous even under apparently optimum conditions, and that those participating can always have their lives destroyed in the blink of an eye by some random act of Amurrican Bad Craziness, I doubt he’ll be able to scrape up as many as 500 bodies again. That’s what makes me hope Elwood doesn’t try to top Charlottesville; every time he does this, he will need to double his turnout, or the media with tear him to shreds and proclaim his downfall to the heavens. Truth will have nothing to do with anything. It never does.

The Long View

I’m sorry to rain on the torchlight parade, but somebody has to. It’s political empty calories, like trying to live on Taco Bell nacho del grande baskets and beer. I am convinced that the adverse effects of Spencer’s achievement will outweigh the good in the long run, but my reasons for doing so are based on observation and experience. The emotional and optic impact of Charlottesville is quite different.

Whiteboys have been raised from birth to feel rather than to think, but we have to sit down and think about all this, very carefully. I admit that to surface perception this Charlottesville thing actually does feel a little bit like victory of some kind. It certainly validates us in the massive media coverage department. (Dead bodies will do that. If it bleeds, it leads.) It’s only when you start looking ahead a few months or years that one sees the problems looming, like sharp jagged rocks below the water along a green and pleasant coastline. What Spencer has done is something I never thought would happen, a trap which is potentially lethal to the White race and in my opinion may well pose an existential threat to our species if we fall into it. He has re-opened a debate on basic strategic concept which frankly I once believed the NF had pretty much won by default, and which we would never have to fight again. Now we may have to waste precious years going over the same ground again.

I’m talking about the Brady Bunch fantasy, the sea-to-shining-sea delusion, the idea that somehow it is possible for a White political movement, or for some single act of dashing-derring-do on the part of an individual, or by praying hard enough to the great jumping Jesus, to turn back the clock to a time a decreasing few of us still remember, and which most of us can only watch on our electronic screens, often in black and white. Spencer’s knees-up in Charlottesville has revived in our minds the idea that somehow, through some inconceivable process or event, it will be possible to bring back Eisenhower, Ozzie and the Beaver and the Brady Bunch, bobbi sox and the family station wagon and church on Sunday followed by the Golden Corral buffet.

It is an incredibly tantalizing vista, something we all long for viscerally, because that world is so close to us in time that those of us who don’t really remember it ourselves can still sense it in our souls. It’s like the lingering fragrance of a beautiful woman who has died, who has been foully murdered in fact, and yet it’s like she’s just left the room---we can feel her presence still. We so long to turn back the hands of time to the 50s and 60s, or even the 70s and 80s, (nostalgia for leg warmers and 8-tracks?) We so badly want to take back all of Amurrica at once from sea-to-shining-sea and make everything like it once was. Sometimes I remember my childhood, and I want to weep that I did not understand and appreciate the gift God had given me, to see the last of that world.

The problem is, it can’t be done. No. It’s just not possible, and if you guys will sit and think about this for a minute you will understand that it is no more possible now than it was before Charlottesville. The clock of history turns forward, never backward. Things in this country have simply gone too far. That has always been one of the bedrock foundations of the Northwest Migration, and now thanks to Richard Spencer’s tiki torches it is under challenge.

I will give only one concrete reason of many here as to why it can’t be done. Right now there are an estimated 180 million people on the North American continent who should not be here. Everything from Hong Kong Chinese in Vancouver to Salvadorean gang-bangers in Los Angeles, from Somali warlords in Minneapolis to mosques in Houston, from screaming sexual deviates to nappy-headed booga booga boogas, from Rachel Maddow to bird-brained Christian Zionists to half the population of Washington D.C. and last but not least, there are millions of pale-skinned moral imbeciles who voted for Hillary Clinton. Just what the hell are we going to do with all these people? No, I mean really?

We’re waiting, Mr. Spencer. Hello? Mr. Spencer?

Elwood Blues doesn’t have an answer, and he ain’t never gonna have an answer. I do, as you know.

That Tired Old Circus Analogy Again

Sorry, I know you’re probably sick of this one, but you really need to get your arms around it. I have sometimes compared the job of the Northwest Front to being a schoolmaster in a classroom of unruly seven-year-olds on a warm spring day with the windows open. It’s hard enough at the best of times to keep our little scholars’ noses stuck into their books and studying the multiplication tables on the blackboard. But then outside, the circus comes marching down the street, with calliopes and bass drums and clowns and elephants and pretty girls in sequined outfits stunt-riding on horses, and some slick ringmaster like Richard Spencer shouting through a megaphone that he’s got the greatest show on earth. I honestly figured we were about out of that stage, but I was wrong, and now we have to go through it all again.

What the Party has to engage in now is a massive back-to-basics campaign, clearly and cogently laying out the simple political and demographic facts of life to our own people. The case for geographic separation in general and the Northwest Homeland in particular must be made and re-made over and over again, the sheer, irresistible, utterly depressing logic of it pounded into our people’s skulls, until we finally get their attention away from all the flickering torches and they take a good long look around them and they see what is real, near, and deadly dangerous. We cannot keep a large number of our own people from running to Richard Spencer like lemmings, eager for the promised entertainment, which I am sure he will provide. What we can do is make sure that the people who retain the ability to think rather than to feel go with us.

One of the ways in which Spencer’s new movement will founder is the same way all the others have: his essential lack of a plan. At least so far. If he has one, he isn’t sharing it, and if he has one he needs to. Hundreds or even thousands of torches in the darkness are an awe-inspiring sight, that I grant you. They are not a plan, they are a light show at a rock concert. (And yes, I am aware of my own past joking references to torchlight parades. Our Movement is nothing if not full of irony.)

So what is the plan, Richard? What precisely are you going to do with all those bodies and how will you bring that plan to fruition?

Spencer is at least so far trying to work within democracy, and always remember that the purpose of democracy is to prevent change. At best, even for those who play the game successfully with skill and ruthlessness and dump-truckloads full of money, democracy only ends up in one place: elected office. And we see with Donald Trump how that works out for genuine outsiders. If the billionaire Trump is having this hard of a time, how the hell do you think somebody like Richard Spencer would fare? My guess is Spencer simply wouldn’t be allowed to assume any office he was elected to; the Jews and Deep State would get some kind of court injunction barring him from admission into Congress or the White House, or wherever.

Nevertheless, I figure we’re likely looking at a Richard Spencer for President campaign, possibly kicked off in 2018 with a Congressional bid in Texas, where he’s from. If you’re going to use democracy, that’s the only way it can go. Or possibly some big media company so Mr. Spencer can become his generation’s Roger Ailes.

Neither of which secures the existence of our people and a future for White children.

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