Mein Kampf: excerpted from vol. I chapter 2

Even before World War II the Jews have been overrepresented in the finances and the media of several Western nations. Today they not only run Hollywood but most American mainstream media. It is no secret that the U.S. media is dominated by anti-Nationalist Socialist propaganda and pro-Israeli perspectives ultimately deriving from Jewish influence. It is my intention with publishing these excerpts of Hitler’s Mein Kampf to present the real Adolf Hitler in contrast to the Hollywood version of Hitler that deceived me for so many decades before, fortunately, a lightning bolt from the skies struck me (see here and especially here).

This translation of the unexpurgated edition of Mein Kampf was first published on March 21st, 1939 (no ellipsis added between unquoted paragraphs):

A painting by the young Adolf

Chapter “Years of study and suffering in Vienna”

At the same time my interest in architecture was constantly increasing. And I advanced in this direction at a still more rapid pace after my first visit to Vienna, which lasted two weeks. I was not yet sixteen years old.

I went to the Hof Museum to study the paintings in the art gallery there; but the building itself captured almost all my interest, from early morning until late at night I spent all my time visiting the various public buildings. And it was the buildings themselves that were always the principal attraction for me. For hours and hours I could stand in wonderment before the Opera and the Parliament. The whole Ring Strasse had a magic effect upon me, as if it were a scene from the Thousand-and-one-Nights. And now I was here for the second time in this beautiful city, impatiently waiting to hear the result of the entrance examination but proudly confident that I had got through. I was so convinced of my success that when the news that I had failed to pass was brought to me it struck me like a bolt from the skies. Yet the fact was that I had failed.

For many people the name of Vienna signifies innocent jollity, a festive place for happy mortals. For me, alas, it is a living memory of the saddest period in my life. Even to-day the mention of that city arouses only gloomy thoughts in my mind. Five years of poverty in that Phaecian town. Five years in which, first as a casual labourer and then as a painter of little trifles, I had to earn my daily bread. And a meagre morsel indeed it was, not even sufficient to still the hunger which I constantly felt.

That hunger was the faithful guardian which never left me but took part in everything I did. Every book that I bought meant renewed hunger, and every visit I paid to the opera meant the intrusion of that inalienable companion during the following days. I was always struggling with my unsympathic friend. And yet during that time I learned more than I had ever learned before.

Outside my architectural studies and rare visits to the opera, for which I had to deny myself food, I had no other pleasure in life except my books. I read a great deal then, and I pondered deeply over what I read. All the free time after work was devoted exclusively to study. Thus within a few years I was able to acquire a stock of knowledge which I find useful even to-day. But more than that. During those years a view of life and a definite outlook on the world took shape in my mind. These became the granite basis of my conduct at that time. Since then I have extended that foundation only very little, and I have changed nothing in it. On the contrary: I am firmly convinced to-day that, generally speaking, it is in youth that men lay the essential groundwork of their creative thought, wherever that creative thought exists. I make a distinction between the wisdom of age—which can only arise from the greater profundity and foresight that are based on the experiences of a long life—and the creative genius of youth, which blossoms out in thought and ideas with inexhaustible fertility, without being able to put these into practice immediately, because of their very superabundance. These furnish the building materials and plans for the future; and it is from them that age takes the stones and builds the edifice, unless the so-called wisdom of the years may have smothered the creative genius of youth.

From this point of view fate had been kind to me. Circumstances forced me to return to that world of poverty and economic insecurity above which my father had raised himself in his early days; and thus the blinkers of a narrow petit bourgeois education were torn from my eyes. Now for the first time I learned to know men and I learned to distinguish between empty appearances or brutal manners and the real inner nature of the people who outwardly appeared thus.

But Vienna was not merely the political and intellectual centre of the Danubian Monarchy; it was also the commercial centre. Besides the horde of military officers of high rank, State officials, artists and scientists, there was the still vaster horde of workers. Abject poverty confronted the wealth of the aristocracy and the merchant class face to face. Thousands of unemployed loitered in front of the palaces on the Ring Strasse; and below that Via Triumphalis of the old Austria the homeless huddled together in the murk and filth of the canals.

I saw this process exemplified before my eyes in thousands of cases. And the longer I observed it the greater became my dislike for that mammoth city which greedily attracts men to its bosom, in order to break them mercilessly in the end. I was thrown about so much in the life of the metropolis that I experienced the workings of this fate in my own person and felt the effects of it in my own soul.

Then I could hear everything without discouragement; for those who emerged from all this misfortune and misery, from this filth and outward degradation, were not human beings as such but rather lamentable results of lamentable laws.

As soon as my interest in social questions was once awakened I began to study them in a fundamental way. A new and hitherto unknown world was thus revealed to me. In the years 1909-10 I had so far improved my position that I no longer had to earn my daily bread as a manual labourer. I was now working independently as draughtsman, and painter in water colours. This métier was a poor one indeed as far as earnings were concerned; for these were only sufficient to meet the bare exigencies of life. Yet it had an interest for me in view of the profession to which I aspired. Moreover, when I came home in the evenings I was now no longer dead-tired as formerly, when I used to be unable to look into a book without falling asleep almost immediately. My present occupation therefore was in line with the profession I aimed at for the future. Moreover, I was master of my own time and could distribute my working-hours now better than formerly.

Another painting by the young Adolf

I painted in order to earn my bread, and I studied because I liked it. Thus I was able to acquire that theoretical knowledge of the social problem which was a necessary complement to what I was learning through actual experience. I studied all the books which I could find that dealt with this question and I thought deeply on what I read. I think that the milieu in which I then lived considered me an eccentric person. Besides my interest in the social question I naturally devoted myself with enthusiasm to the study of architecture. Side by side with music, I considered it queen of the arts. To study it was for me not work but pleasure. The fact that, side by side with my professional studies, I took the greatest interest in everything that had to do with politics did not seem to me to signify anything of great importance.

On political questions therefore I still continued to read and study a great deal. But reading had probably a different significance for me from that which it has for the average run of our so-called ‘intellectuals’. I know people who read interminably, book after book, from page to page, and yet I should not call them ‘well-read people’. Of course they ‘know’ an immense amount; but their brain seems incapable of assorting and classifying the material which they have gathered from books. They have not the faculty of distinguishing between what is useful and useless in a book; so that they may retain the former in their minds and if possible skip over the latter while reading it, if that be not possible, then—when once read—throw it overboard as useless ballast. Reading is not an end in itself, but a means to an end. And the purpose is to give a general knowledge of the world in which we live. In both cases, however, the material which one has acquired through reading must not be stored up in the memory on a plan that corresponds to the successive chapters of the book; but each little piece of knowledge thus gained must be treated as if it were a little stone to be inserted into a mosaic, so that it finds its proper place among all the other pieces and particles that help to form a general world-picture in the brain of the reader.

What he thus learns is incorporated in his mental analogue of this or that problem or thing, further correcting the mental picture or enlarging it so that it becomes more exact and precise. Should some practical problem suddenly demand examination or solution, memory will immediately select the opportune information from the mass that has been acquired through years of reading and will place this information at the service of one’s powers of judgment so as to get a new and clearer view of the problem in question or produce a definitive solution. Only thus can reading have any meaning or be worth while.

* * *
I first came into contact with the Social Democrats while working in the building trade. Within less than two years I had gained a clear understanding of Social Democracy, in its teaching and the technique of its operations.

The more I became acquainted with the external forms of Social Democracy, the greater became my desire to understand the inner nature of its doctrines. For this purpose the official literature of the Party could not help very much. Its modern methods of chicanery in the presentation of its arguments were profoundly repugnant to me. Its flamboyant sentences, its obscure and incomprehensible phrases, pretended to contain great thoughts, but they were devoid of thought, and meaningless. One would have to be a decadent Bohemian in one of our modern cities in order to feel at home in that labyrinth of mental aberration, so that he might discover ‘intimate experiences’ amid the stinking fumes of this literary Dadaism. These writers were obviously counting on the proverbial humility of a certain section of our people, who believe that a person who is incomprehensible must be profoundly wise.

Meanwhile I had discovered the relations existing between this destructive teaching and the specific character of a people, who up to that time had been to me almost unknown. Knowledge of the Jews is the only key whereby one may understand the inner nature and therefore the real aims of Social Democracy. The man who has come to know this race has succeeded in removing from his eyes the veil through which he had seen the aims and meaning of his Party in a false light; and then, out of the murk and fog of social phrases rises the grimacing figure of Marxism.

To-day it is hard and almost impossible for me to say when the word ‘Jew’ first began to raise any particular thought in my mind. I do not remember even having heard the word at home during my father’s lifetime. If this name were mentioned in a derogatory sense I think the old gentleman would just have considered those who used it in this way as being uneducated reactionaries. In the course of his career he had come to be more or less a cosmopolitan, with strong views on nationalism, which had its effect on me as well.

In school, too, I found no reason to alter the picture of things I had formed at home. At the Realschule I knew one Jewish boy. We were all on our guard in our relations with him, but only because his reticence and certain actions of his warned us to be discreet. Beyond that my companions and myself formed no particular opinions in regard to him.

It was not until I was fourteen or fifteen years old that I frequently ran up against the word ‘Jew’, partly in connection with political controversies. These references aroused a slight aversion in me, and I could not avoid an uncomfortable feeling which always came over me when I had to listen to religious disputes. But at that time I had no other feelings about the Jewish question. There were very few Jews in Linz. In the course of centuries the Jews who lived there had become Europeanized in external appearance and were so much like other human beings that I even looked upon them as Germans. The reason why I did not then perceive the absurdity of such an illusion was that the only external mark which I recognized as distinguishing them from us was the practice of their strange religion. As I thought that they were persecuted on account of their Faith my aversion to hearing remarks against them grew almost into a feeling of abhorrence. I did not in the least suspect that there could be such a thing as a systematic anti-Semitism.

Then I came to Vienna. Confused by the mass of impressions I received from the architectural surroundings and depressed by my own troubles, I did not at first distinguish between the different social strata of which the population of that mammoth city was composed. Although Vienna then had about two hundred thousand Jews among its population of two millions, I did not notice them. During the first weeks of my sojourn my eyes and my mind were unable to cope with the onrush of new ideas and values. Not until I gradually settled down to my surroundings, and the confused picture began to grow clearer, did I acquire a more discriminating view of my new world.

And with that I came up against the Jewish problem. I will not say that the manner in which I first became acquainted with it was particularly unpleasant for me. In the Jew I still saw only a man who was of a different religion, and therefore, on grounds of human tolerance, I was against the idea that he should be attacked because he had a different faith. And so I considered that the tone adopted by the anti-Semitic Press in Vienna was unworthy of the cultural traditions of a great people. The memory of certain events which happened in the middle ages came into my mind, and I felt that I should not like to see them repeated. Generally speaking, these anti-Semitic newspapers did not belong to the first rank—but I did not then understand the reason of this—and so I regarded them more as the products of jealousy and envy rather than the expression of a sincere, though wrong-headed, feeling.

What got still more on my nerves was the repugnant manner in which the big newspapers cultivated admiration for France. One really had to feel ashamed of being a German when confronted by those mellifluous hymns of praise for ‘the great culture-nation’. This wretched Gallomania more often than once made me throw away one of those ‘world newspapers’. I now often turned to the Volksblatt, which was much smaller in size but which treated such subjects more decently. I was not in accord with its sharp anti-Semitic tone; but again and again I found that its arguments gave me grounds for serious thought.

Anyhow, it was as a result of such reading that I came to know the man and the movement which then determined the fate of Vienna. These were Dr. Karl Lueger [1844-1910, the anti-Semitic mayor of Vienna] and the Christian Socialist Movement. At the time I came to Vienna I felt opposed to both. I looked on the man and the movement as ‘reactionary’. But even an elementary sense of justice enforced me to change my opinion when I had the opportunity of knowing the man and his work, and slowly that opinion grew into outspoken admiration when I had better grounds for forming a judgment. To-day, as well as then, I hold Dr. Karl Lueger as the most eminent type of German Burgermeister.

How many prejudices were thrown over through such a change in my attitude towards the Christian-Socialist Movement! My ideas about anti-Semitism changed also in the course of time, but that was the change which I found most difficult. It cost me a greater internal conflict with myself, and it was only after a struggle between reason and sentiment that victory began to be decided in favour of the former.

Two years later sentiment rallied to the side of reasons and became a faithful guardian and counsellor. At the time of this bitter struggle, between calm reason and the sentiments in which I had been brought up, the lessons that I learned on the streets of Vienna rendered me invaluable assistance. A time came when I no longer passed blindly along the street of the mighty city, as I had done in the early days, but now with my eyes open not only to study the buildings but also the human beings. Once, when passing through the inner City, I suddenly encountered a phenomenon in a long caftan and wearing black side-locks. My first thought was: Is this a Jew? They certainly did not have this appearance in Linz. I watched the man stealthily and cautiously; but the longer I gazed at the strange countenance and examined it feature by feature, the more the question shaped itself in my brain: Is this a German? As was always my habit with such experiences, I turned to books for help in removing my doubts.

For the first time in my life I bought myself some anti- Semitic pamphlets for a few pence. But unfortunately they all began with the assumption that in principle the reader had at least a certain degree of information on the Jewish question or was even familiar with it. Moreover, the tone of most of these pamphlets was such that I became doubtful again, because the statements made were partly superficial and the proofs extraordinarily unscientific. For weeks, and indeed for months, I returned to my old way of thinking. The subject appeared so enormous and the accusations were so far-reaching that I was afraid of dealing with it unjustly and so I became again anxious and uncertain. Naturally I could no longer doubt that here there was not a question of Germans who happened to be of a different religion but rather that there was question of an entirely different people. For as soon as I began to investigate the matter and observe the Jews, then Vienna appeared to me in a different light. Wherever I now went I saw Jews, and the more I saw of them the more strikingly and clearly they stood out as a different people from the other citizens. Especially the Inner City and the district northwards from the Danube Canal swarmed with a people who, even in outer appearance, bore no similarity to the Germans. But any indecision which I may still have felt about that point was finally removed by the activities of a certain section of the Jews themselves.

In my eyes the charge against Judaism became a grave one the moment I discovered the Jewish activities in the Press, in art, in literature and the theatre. All unctuous protests were now more or less futile. One needed only to look at the posters announcing the hideous productions of the cinema and theatre, and study the names of the authors who were highly lauded there in order to become permanently adamant on Jewish questions.

The fact that nine-tenths of all the smutty literature, artistic tripe and theatrical banalities, had to be charged to the account of people who formed scarcely one per cent of the nation—that fact could not be gainsaid. It was there, and had to be admitted. Then I began to examine my favourite ‘World Press’, with that fact before my mind. The deeper my soundings went the lesser grew my respect for that Press which I formerly admired. Its style became still more repellent and I was forced to reject its ideas as entirely shallow and superficial. To claim that in the presentation of facts and views its attitude was impartial seemed to me to contain more falsehood than truth. The writers were—Jews. Thousands of details that I had scarcely noticed before seemed to me now to deserve attention. I began to grasp and understand things which I had formerly looked at in a different light.

The subject matter of the feuilletons was trivial and often pornographic. The language of this Press as a whole had the accent of a foreign people. The general tone was openly derogatory to the Germans and this must have been definitely intentional. What were the interests that urged the Vienna Press to adopt such a policy? Or did they do so merely by chance?

Here, again, the life which I observed on the streets taught me what evil really is. The part which the Jews played in the social phenomenon of prostitution, and more especially in the white slave traffic, could be studied here better than in any other West-European city, with the possible exception of certain ports in Southern France.

One more painting by young Adolf

Then I became fired with wrath. I had now no more hesitation about bringing the Jewish problem to light in all its details. No. Henceforth I was determined to do so. But as I learned to track down the Jew in all the different spheres of cultural and artistic life, and in the various manifestations of this life everywhere, I suddenly came upon him in a position where I had least expected to find him. I now realized that the Jews were the leaders of Social Democracy. In face of that revelation the scales fell from my eyes. My long inner struggle was at an end.

I gradually discovered that the Social Democratic Press was predominantly controlled by Jews. But I did not attach special importance to this circumstance, for the same state of affairs existed also in other newspapers. But there was one striking fact in this connection. It was that there was not a single newspaper with which Jews were connected that could be spoken of as National, in the meaning that my education and convictions attached to that word. [Cf. my red letters in my “lightning” entry] Making an effort to overcome my natural reluctance, I tried to read articles of this nature published in the Marxist Press; but in doing so my aversion increased all the more. And then I set about learning something of the people who wrote and published this mischievous stuff. From the publisher downwards, all of them were Jews. I recalled to mind the names of the public leaders of Marxism, and then I realized that most of them belonged to the Chosen Race—the Social Democratic representatives in the Imperial Cabinet as well as the secretaries of the Trades Unions and the street agitators. Everywhere the same sinister picture presented itself. I shall never forget the row of names—Austerlitz, David, Adler, Ellenbogen, and others.

The great masses can be rescued, but a lot of time and a large share of human patience must be devoted to such work. But a Jew can never be rescued from his fixed notions. It was then simple enough to attempt to show them the absurdity of their teaching. Within my small circle I talked to them until my throat ached and my voice grew hoarse. I believed that I could finally convince them of the danger inherent in the Marxist follies. But I only achieved the contrary result. It seemed to me that immediately the disastrous effects of the Marxist Theory and its application in practice became evident, the stronger became their obstinacy. The more I debated with them the more familiar I became with their argumentative tactics.

At the outset they counted upon the stupidity of their opponents, but when they got so entangled that they could not find a way out they played the trick of acting as innocent simpletons. Should they fail, in spite of their tricks of logic, they acted as if they could not understand the counter arguments and bolted away to another field of discussion. They would lay down truisms and platitudes; and, if you accepted these, then they were applied to other problems and matters of an essentially different nature from the original theme. If you faced them with this point they would escape again, and you could not bring them to make any precise statement. Whenever one tried to get a firm grip on any of these apostles one’s hand grasped only jelly and slime which slipped through the fingers and combined again into a solid mass a moment afterwards. If your adversary felt forced to give in to your argument, on account of the observers present, and if you then thought that at last you had gained ground, a surprise was in store for you on the following day. The Jew would be utterly oblivious to what had happened the day before, and he would start once again by repeating his former absurdities, as if nothing had happened. Should you become indignant and remind him of yesterday’s defeat, he pretended astonishment and could not remember anything, except that on the previous day he had proved that his statements were correct. Sometimes I was dumbfounded. I do not know what amazed me the more—the abundance of their verbiage or the artful way in which they dressed up their falsehoods.

Urged by my own daily experiences, I now began to investigate more thoroughly the sources of the Marxist teaching itself. For only in the brain of a monster, and not that of a man, could the plan of this organization take shape whose workings must finally bring about the collapse of human civilization and turn this world into a desert waste. Such being the case the only alternative left was to fight, and in that fight to employ all the weapons which the human spirit and intellect and will could furnish leaving it to Fate to decide in whose favour the balance should fall. And so I began to gather information about the authors of this teaching, with a view to studying the principles of the movement. The fact that I attained my object sooner than I could have anticipated was due to the deeper insight into the Jewish question which I then gained, my knowledge of this question being hitherto rather superficial.

The Jewish doctrine of Marxism denies the individual worth of the human personality, impugns the teaching that nationhood and race have a primary significance, and by doing this it takes away the very foundations of human existence and human civilization. If the Marxist teaching were to be accepted as the foundation of the life of the universe, it would lead to the disappearance of all order that is conceivable to the human mind. And thus the adoption of such a law would provoke chaos in the structure of the greatest organism that we know, with the result that the inhabitants of this earthly planet would finally disappear. Should the Jew, with the aid of his Marxist creed, triumph over the people of this world, his Crown will be the funeral wreath of mankind, and this planet will once again follow its orbit through ether, without any human life on its surface, as it did millions of years ago. And so I believe to-day that my conduct is in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator. In standing guard against the Jew I am defending the handiwork of the Lord.

Mein Kampf: excerpted from vol. I chapter 1

Even before World War II the Jews have been overrepresented in the finances and the media of several Western nations. Today they not only run Hollywood but most American mainstream media. It is no secret that the U.S. media is dominated by anti-Nationalist Socialist propaganda and pro-Israeli perspectives ultimately deriving from Jewish influence. It is my intention with publishing these excerpts of Hitler’s Mein Kampf to present the real Adolf Hitler in contrast to the Hollywood version of Hitler that deceived me for so many decades before, fortunately, a lightning bolt struck me (see here and especially here).

This translation of the unexpurgated edition of Mein Kampf was first published on March 21st, 1939 (no ellipsis added between unquoted paragraphs):

A very young Adolf
(center)



Chapter “In the house of my parents”

When I was twelve years old I saw William Tell performed. That was my first experience of the theatre. Some months later I attended a performance of Lohengrin, the first opera I had ever heard. I was fascinated at once. My youthful enthusiasm for the Bayreuth Master knew no limits. Again and again I was drawn to hear his operas; and to-day I consider it a great piece of luck that these modest productions in the little provincial city prepared the way and made it possible for me to appreciate the better productions later on.

I wanted to become a painter and no power in the world could force me to become a civil servant. The only peculiar feature of the situation now was that as I grew bigger I became more and more interested in architecture. I considered this fact as a natural development of my flair for painting and I rejoiced inwardly that the sphere of my artistic interests was thus enlarged. I had no notion that one day it would have to be otherwise.

When I was in my thirteenth year my father was suddenly taken from us. He was still in robust health when a stroke of apoplexy painlessly ended his earthly wanderings and left us all deeply bereaved. His most ardent longing was to be able to help his son to advance in a career and thus save me from the harsh ordeal that he himself had to go through. But it appeared to him then as if that longing were all in vain. And yet, though he himself was not conscious of it, he had sown the seeds of a future which neither of us foresaw at that time.

My mother agreed that I should leave the Realschule and attend the Academy. Those were happy days, which appeared to me almost as a dream; but they were bound to remain only a dream. Two years later my mother’s death put a brutal end to all my fine projects.

She succumbed to a long and painful illness which from the very beginning permitted little hope of recovery. Though expected, her death came as a terrible blow to me. I respected my father, but I loved my mother.

Poverty and stern reality forced me to decide promptly. The meagre resources of the family had been almost entirely used up through my mother’s severe illness. The allowance which came to me as an orphan was not enough for the bare necessities of life. Somehow or other I would have to earn my own bread.

With my clothes and linen packed in a valise and with an indomitable resolution in my heart, I left for Vienna. I hoped to forestall fate, as my father had done fifty years before. I was determined to become ‘something’ —but certainly not a civil servant.

Fuck Mexico!

The following is
the longer version
of a shorter post
at Mangan’s today:




I was born in Mexico, presently live in Mexico City, and my father is a fanatical nationalist (though physically he looks like an European!). However, there are some Mexicans who hate Mexico and want it conquered by a higher culture. You won’t believe how popular Germany was among some Mexicans in the 1930s…

What Mexico and the U.S. need is exactly the opposite of what’s happening today with the mestization of states like California. Let’s never forget Kendall’s communication to Andrew Jackson telling him that someday Anglo-Saxons will be majority in Mexico, and that this would improve that country.

I’ve started to look at Mexico’s history from the viewpoint of conflict among ethnic groups.

Before the Spanish conquest, the Amerindians committed unbelievable, heinous cruelties even with their own children, cruelties unheard of in the West as you can see in my online book.

After the Aztec Empire was crushed by Cortés and Carthaginian peace established (what we should do with Islam today) there was a moment when New Spain, under white Spaniards in the 17th century, was more prosperous than its English counterpart at the north.

The first independence movement of 1810 in Mexico was crushed by Spain and it only succeeded when white Criollos took up the independent flag. But in the long run the continuing miscegenation ruined the New Spain project (Roman Catholicism is the culprit here: it has never been conscious that race matters). This was to be expected since the Spanish themselves are the most mestizo country in Europe, with bloodlines that go back to Carthaginians, Visigoths and even some Moor blood. Paradoxically, the influx of Jewish blood from the conversos benefited the crown since the late 15th century due to their higher IQs (the successful Inquisition gives the clue of how to deal with them in the future once the Zionist Occupied Government is identified and taken out of power in America).

We had the Inquisition in my native town too. But what then happened in Mexico is the perfect textbook case of what happens when thoroughgoing miscegenation takes place within a nation. After the epidemics decimated the Amerindians in the 16th century and Mexico City—together with the other jewel of the empire: Lima in Peru—looked like the beginning of a new world order for the Americas, who would say that the surviving Amerindians would proceed to breed profusely and overwhelm the Iberian whites with the inundation of an army of brown human ants?

Yes… studying the history of Latin America is good for WASPs. Remember the 1954 film starring Charlton Heston telling the story of an attack of army ants on a Peruvian cocoa plantation? Unless you guys ruthlessly and thoroughly reverse your liberalism and impose what Alex Linder calls “a racial dictatorship,” what happened here down the South, the rise of a marabunta of Neanderthals, will happen, again, to you.

Alas, what Linder wants is not going to happen. The entire Western world, including the U.S. under a chimpanzee, is at present under the grip of the new secular religion known as liberalism.

Didn’t Hegel say that history only teaches us that man learns nothing from history?

The other “lightnings”

My two latest posts caused the first flaming dispute in this blog (actually, as can be gathered from the emails I received, more than a mere flaming). I must confess it doesn’t feel good to be at the middle of these sort of cross-fired emotions. However, it is interesting to see that the debate caught the attention of other blogs.

In the blogsite Antisemitica Svigor said “Duh!” about the red-lettered Avery Bullard phrase I quoted that caused the “lightening”, as if it was something so obvious. In Age of Treason another commenter said: “I wonder why people take so long to catch on.” Hunter Wallace was much more comprehensive. He wrote: “Like Chechar, I didn’t get the Jewish Question at first. It took me about six months to wrap my mind around the idea that Jews are not the people they present themselves to be.”

It’s a mistake to see what finally caused the lightening as a “Duh”. Before it struck my head perturbations such as wind, humidity, friction and atmospheric pressure were deeply charged in my mind’s space. This was caused by intensive reading on the Jewish question in the internet. It was only when the charge reached its tipping point that the electricity was unexpectedly discharged and I “saw” the encoded image—an instantaneous, blinding-light discharge which was later accompanied by the thunder of the flaming debate.

Wrapping one’s mind or head is a term used when dealing with complicated topics or subjects where it is very hard to grasp the deep meaning of something. The Jewish problem is not an hallucination, as I still believed last month. It is the random autostereogram which encodes a three-dimensional image that can only be seen with a proper viewing technique. The lightening which struck me a week ago allowed me to develop a viewing technique and see the Jewish question for the first time in my life. But this is the third time I’ve been hit by a “lightening”...

The first lightning

As a young person I was influenced by the Marxism taught at school and was dismayed to see that Mexico’s most authoritative intellectual, Octavio Paz, criticized it. The first lightening that struck me in my life hit me in 1983 when reading a phrase of Paz’s El Ogro Filantrópico. I remember the very moment: I was in an uncomfortable room in my parents’ house. In the phrase Paz had compared the commie totalitarian regimes with the totalitarian Church of the Middle Ages. I don’t want to spend time recounting why such inner experience was so cataclysmic. Suffice it to say that, from that day on, my previous faith in the communism that programmed me at High School was seriously damaged.

The second lightning

I was such a believer in the reality of psi phenomena that I used to publish in the Journal of the Society for Psychical Research. I was already a sort of agnostic, though not a real skeptic when, outside a subway station in Mexico City, I was pondering on what Robert Sheaffer had written in one of his books: a couple of logical fallacies that paranormalists commit. A powerful lightening unexpectedly struck. Immediately and miraculously, I became a skeptic of the paranormal from that day on: an apostate from my previous belief. I quit publishing in the journal after years of overseas friendship with the editor.

The third lightning

I have already described part of the story of the third lightening, which struck me last week. Below I quote a tiny fraction of the sentences that helped me to “charge” my mind before the lightening finally struck (incidentally, like the 1983 and 1995 experiences I didn’t know that, at one point, the reading would change my worldview in a flash).

I would like to quote, once more, a post by Avery Bullard from the Gates of Vienna blogsite. Bullard quoted Seiyo: “Liberalism, which is the true religion of most Jews, is the antithesis of an evolutionary mechanism for survival and dominance”, and then Bullard responded:

Prior to liberalism in the United States, the founding peoples—Anglo-Saxons—were dominant, after liberalism the Jews are dominant. The whole bit about oppression in Tsarist Russia is meaningless. Even if one believes Jews when they say this stuff what about the USA and Canada? Jews were never oppressed in those countries yet their behaviour has been the same. Take for example the undeniable Jewish role in ending segregation. Since then thousands upon thousands of Anglo-Saxon Americans in the South have been exterminated. OK they weren’t killed directly by Jews in a Gulag but without the Jewish role in the Civil Rights movement, which they are forever bragging about, those thousands would still be alive. What did these Americans ever do to the Jews to deserve such a fate? There was no Tsarist “oppression” in the USA. When I hear Jews say Israel cannot accept a one state solution because the Jews will be outnumbered and at the mercy of the Arabs I wonder why Israeli lives are more valuable than the lives of Southerners.

Conservative Swede said...
Issues about Jews is the last bastion of PC patterns within each mind, since these issues go deepest in the myths we are conditioned to hold in the current paradigm. Exorcise your PC patterns before you flip to the other side! I have already seen one or two examples of flips in these comment treads.

Veraj said...
The default religion of human beings is the practice of human sacrifice. This is a pathological virus planted deep in the heart of the human species, which has been given insufficient attention. Virtually all primitive cultures and ancient civilizations engaged in it.

I highlighted this because by then I wanted to quote Veraj and comment on it in the threads of The Return of Quetzalcoatl. Alas, because of my sudden realization that “anti-Semitism” is like “Islamophobia”, the blogsite admin where my serial was been published informed me that he would publish me no more.

WillieKamm said...
Jews, more than any other group on the so called “progressive left” got us to this frightful precipice. I wish it were not true, but wishing it away won’t do any good. It’s a harsh truth that must be faced by all of us.

As stated in a previous entry, Gates of Vienna is philo-Semitic. Conversely, in Occidental Observer Kevin MacDonald wrote:

In other words Seiyo’s beef is with Slezkine, not me. Slezkine fails to buy into the lachrymose theory of Jewish history (i.e., the view that Jewish history is simply a record of persecution of innocent Jews by evil non-Jews).

In Tanstaafl’s own blogsite he wrote:

Auster has not only provided a Law that serves as a useful tool for analyzing liberalism. By going beyond a rational argument or even flat denial that jews are a hostile minority and claiming instead that the person who poses such a thesis is evil, Auster has done quite the opposite of hopelessly confusing the issue or ruining his tool’s value. He has demonstrated its power. Thank you Mr. Auster.

Prozium [Hunter Wallace] said...
Jews were far more openly involved in radical movements (Communist Party USA) in the early twentieth century than they are today. They didn’t as openly debase Gentile culture during that time period because they were intimidated that doing so might provoke an anti-Semitic backlash. Auster would never admit though that anti-Semitism is a rational and necessary response to the Jewish Question.

In another of Tanstaafl’s articles he wrote:

The West’s weakness doesn’t come from neo-liberalism alone. The threat is not only from islam. The West has been invaded by the third world. Our neo-lib and neo-con leaders argue and point fingers. They disagree about who to bomb next. But they agree on the third world invasion of the West. They all welcome it, and they side with the invaders. To stop the invasion we Westerners must first and foremost remove from power and prosecute those who have betrayed us. That done we can address our external threats. Otherwise the West will decompose. Either path will be bloody.

And in still another article:

Yes, let’s be honest and admit that jews are not the only liberals, but they are grossly overrepresented. Let’s be honest and admit that much of what we call liberalism today—especially the multiculturalism, race-denial, identity politics, feminism—are monolithic jewish priorities, founded, funded, and proselytized in large part by jews. Let’s be really honest and admit that you will never hear that said in any major newspaper, TV channel, or movie in the U.S. Saying it in many European countries would be a crime. Can you be that honest?

“Most Jews were not involved in this” [a commenter said] Again, let’s be honest. The point is not absolute numbers or even the proportion of jews, it’s a question of proportion and power relative to everyone else [Chechar’s emphasis]. Considering their own morals and hypersensitivity to genocide I expect the majority of jews to be more sympathetic to the plight of Whites than they appear to be. Instead most are indifferent, or worse.

When Susan Sontag said “the white race is the cancer of human history” why did jewish leaders and ordinary folk alike not overwhelmingly repudiate her? Why was she not banished forever from “polite society” as people who say even less extreme things about jews are?

Likewise Noel Ignatiev’s “Keep bashing the dead white males, and the live ones, and the females, too, until the social construct known as the white race is destroyed. Not deconstructed, but destroyed”. He’s still alive and spewing his hate but the SPLC hasn’t even noticed him, much less brought suit to silence him.

And in a very recent article in TOQ Online:

At the root of this double-talk is Auster’s dissembling. “The majority” is White, and we are quickly being reduced to a minority, not by “liberalism” but by anti-White/pro-jew neo-liberalism.


Final thought

I can perfectly understand that Auster and Taksei are reluctant to see the image behind the autostereogram. Being Jewish they are Jewish ethno-patriots. Nothing wrong with that. I only wish that WASPs be as loyal to their own ethny...

Œdipus’ struggles with the daimon

This long article has been moved elsewhere:

http://eliminatedleaves.wordpress.com/2009/10/25/on-depression/

An ugly duckling in Mexico

Chechar
at
fifteen


I was born in Mexico and lived most of my life there. Why on Earth, a casual reader may wonder, is a Mexican (or a former Mexican) posting entries on White Nationalism?

The answer is very simple. Long before Lincoln’s blunder, Mestizo America in general—“Latin America” is a misnomer: most “Latin” Americans are no Latins at all, but ugly semi-Indians—and Mexico in particular were the place of the first gigantic multiracial experiments. This happened almost half a millennia ago: the real overture of today’s multicultural tune that is conducting the West straight into the precipice.

The big difference between the English colonizers and the Spaniards is that the former migrated with their whole families, whereas the latter arrived as bachelor soldiers to the Americas, many of them in their twenties. As can be read in the delicious narrative by Bernal Díaz del Castillo, the conquerors passed through the intermediate towns in their way to the magnificent capital of the Aztec Empire. Even during that first journey the natives gave the bachelor soldiers Indian girls as presents to appease them, and very few Spaniards resisted the temptation. Thus the first miscegenations on American soil were consumed a few weeks after the Spanish step on the American continent for the first time in history!

But going back to the question, Why is a “Mexican” posting entries on White Nationalism? Last month, in The Occidental Quarterly the dystopian novelist Alex Kurtagic asked another question: “What will it take for the White people to finally react and take decisive and effective action to change the status quo?” A commenter answered that “popular support for explicit white advocacy will occur in large numbers only if and when Americans are forced to deal with non-whites on a daily basis.”

That’s why.

When I was born in the late 1950s, Mexico City was not the degenerate city that it has become in the twenty-first century. Throughout my life I have witnessed, with horror and uttermost impotence, how the prolific lower classes, composed by semi-Indian mestizos, geometrically bred to the point of turning my lovely town into a nightmarish Metropolis. Let me confess that to find a leptosomatic Iberian white like me is not only extremely rare in Mexico, but in Spain where I lived for more than a year. Leptosomatics with my facial features, true Latins, are more common in France (my last name, Tort, is French). So you can imagine how a lone white swan (for Mexican standards) would have felt among dark ducks: just as the ugly duckling of the tale we tell to our little children in bedtime.

Ugly duckling longs for Swanslake… The amount of inner suffering that the adolescent I was endured trapped in Duckslake is a tragedy that many whites will experiment in their own homelands as alien immigration increases. What happened in Mexico City, which today has about 20 million of semi-Indians as ugly as Neanderthals, will happen in the U.S. The image comes now to my mind of a film in which an aged Henry Fonda said that he didn't consider Los Angeles to be part of the United States.

But in the film Fonda was married to a white woman and the elderly couple had an intelligent daughter. That makes life tolerable. On the other hand, if the commenter to Kurtagic’s article is right, only when a considerable amount of whites go through the existential agonies that I have endured in this brownish inferno (something analogous to Kurtagic’s novel), will the white people react.

Why do I believe that the people in the counter-Jihad movement are incurably myopic? Even if Islam is properly crushed—say, that Mecca is nuked—and the Muslims deported, the West cannot escape from the Mexicanization of the States and the bladerrunerization of Europe.

Unless it completely reverses its axiology.

_______________________________


P.S. note: I have already used the term “axiology” in these series and will continue to use it in the next entries. Usually defined as meta-ethics, I often use it to refer to the suicidal moral grammar of today’s Westerners; or to my new axiology that, by revaluating all of the current values, enthrones English roses as the ultimate goal in life. (Obviously the swan that I was longed for a swan-like mate.)

Symphonic call to civil war!

First ten minutes of my father’s piece

A few days ago Fjordman wrote in the Gates of Vienna (GoV) forum:

One title you could look into is How the West Was Lost by Alexander Boot, an ex-pat Russian who fled the Soviet Union in the 1970s, only to discover that the West he admired no longer existed. He traces the development of Western civilization through art and ideas, but especially music.

You can successfully track the rise and decline of Western civilization through music. There are other ways, of course, but music is as good as any, and better than most. Through the likes of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven we created greater music than any civilization on this planet has ever done before us. During that same time period Europeans also made advances in science and technology which went far beyond what any other civilization had ever done before.

Europeans could still make good music in the nineteenth century, although we did not quite match the names of the eighteenth, and a few names were produced in the early twentieth century, but hardly anybody in the second half of the twentieth century. By the early twenty-first century, not only do we not produce anybody remotely close to the greatness of Mozart, we don’t even listen to the ones we once produced. The only people who take European Classical music seriously today are, ironically, East Asians, and maybe, just maybe, some people in the eastern half of Europe, the only half of the continent that still actually looks like Europe. If you want to see a simple illustration of cultural decline you can listen to basically anything by Mozart and then turn on the TV and see some young men doing drugs, talking about their “gangster” lifestyle and their prostitutes. Alexander Boot has a very Christian view, which I do not always share, but he brings fresh and unusual perspectives, which is good. His basic conclusion is that the West is dead, but as a Christian man he also believes in life after death. Maybe that’s not a bad conclusion. The West is dead. Long live the West!

_______________

Fjordman’s post fascinated me and I pointed out that there’s still some good music, such as the “symphonic call to civil war”. What I didn’t tell GoVers in that thread is that my father composed the music I linked. In a previous GoV thread, “A History of European Music”, I had commented:

_______________

Chechar said… (Note of 25 August 2010: I have slightly modified some of my comments below)

Music is one of the psychological markers from which an extraterrestrial could know the level of cultural development of a species, or if their culture is degenerating. Since the last decades our musical culture has been degenerating: a claim impossible to demonstrate objectively, since music is an intra-psychic, psychogenic evolutionary mystery of the emergent species. (If you ignore the new age nonsense that Robert Godwin wrote in his book One cosmos under God, he has some good points about what music is; and Oliver Sacks’s 2007 Musicophilia is quite interesting: some people are a-musical: they cannot grasp subjectively what music is.)


My father started his career as a composer of classical music. His orchestra pieces were played in the early 1960s in the U.S. (something horrible happened and he interrupted his very promising career). My mother has been a piano teacher since she was a teenager. My brother gives music lessons to children in Paris. One of the problems with intra-psychic emergency is that it cannot be communicated downhill; only equals can understand it. I don’t want to elaborate much this point. Suffice it to say that, just as a classic ballet dancer can dance everything but a disco dancer cannot dance ballet, someone who understands classical music can understand all musical genre including disco music, even if he abhors it.

Music represents states of psychogenic development. When Solzhenitsyn said in the U.S. that some American pop music was disgusting, or that it was better the regime of Francisco Franco than the ultra-liberal regimes in Germany or France, he seemed totally detached from reality.

But he was right…

It is no coincidence that the 18th century Europeans who treasured classical music would never have allowed masses of incoming Muslims into European soil. Every time I listen the garbage music in Spain’s supermarkets—where I’m living for the moment—I “know” for sure that Europe is committing cultural suicide. I place quotation marks because this is a subjective knowledge, impossible to express by rational arguments (that’s why I referred to the books of Godwin and Sacks). Conversely, if the westerners still identified themselves with Bach, Mozart or Beethoven (personally I also like Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky and Stravinsky) it would be easier to detect the bull of politically-correct multiculturalism. Psychogenic emergency is like Moonwatcher touching the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

But oh destiny!: instead of a Star Child, in the year 2001 we got a gigantic evolutionary step backwards: September 11. Nowadays cultural relativists almost want us to believe that the heights of musical achievements are on the same level of black rap, and Muslim polygamy or homo marriage at the same level of a stable heterosexual marriage. Instead of the promised Star Child what we are getting in this century is degenerate music and a legion of Neanderthals.

Félicie said...

Chechar, the points you are making are very thought-provoking. I wish you could elaborate about intra-psychic emergency. Personally, I can only listen to classical music. All other “music” is the worst sort of torture to me. I am literally languishing in the modern world that is subject to noise pollution. Pop music is everywhere. It is pouring out of my neighbors’ windows, it is in all the shops, hairdresser stores, cafes, restaurants, public transportation, business waiting rooms, on-hold telephone signals. It is inescapable. And on top of it, people walk around with ipod earphones glued permanently to their ears! It is like the world is terrified of silence and the more gentle sounds that it reveals. Students do their math homework while listening to music. What kinds of problems can they solve? Only the ones that can be done automatically. What kind of genius ideas can the world come up with if it is constantly listening to music? To think that smoking has been practically eradicated, but no one attacks noise pollution. I want to go to sleep and wake up in another century! Thanks for listening to my rant.

Chechar said...

It’s not a rant but the pure truth. And thanks for sharing: it’s good to see that there are still people of my own species in a planet which is becoming more and more like the planet of the apes. I also suffer incredibly on the streets and even in the complex of flats where I am presently living when I listen to what we may call Neanderthal music.


I alluded to the film 2001 in my previous post. Let’s follow the film’s metaphor. “Moonwatcher” is the character name in Arthur Clarke’s novel for the Australopithecus guy who first touched the monolith. If a member of our tribe doesn’t touch the monolith—symbol of a psychogenic leap forward—s/he would never have a clue of why latter-day Moonwatchers, i.e. Starchilds, cannot stand miscegenation (ethics) or junk music (esthetics). The leap belongs to the aesthetical and emotional intelligence rather than to our cognitive faculties.

Free Hal said...

Hi Chechar, Felicie, and Laine. Western music, of the three branches of art (visual art and literature the other two), is the best evidence of the grandeur of western culture. The breathtaking genius of Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert may one day be surpassed but we can’t see how right now. Two very good essays from Theodore Dalrymple (classical music at least makes people no worse), and playing Bach clears hooligans away... As you know, Chechar (please see my “Rollback” essay) I think there may be ways to prevent Europe entering a dark time.

After a couple of months of not posting in that thread, I finally posted an abridged reply of what I say below:

Chechar said...

Orchestral music is not only the classical rococo of Mozart and Haydn. Writing about Stravinsky’s Le Sacre du Printemps, Pierre Boulez stated that it was the comeback of barbarous hordes in our century, what I may call the Id’s revenge.

In the 1960s my father was influenced by Stravinsky. Carlos Pellicer’s poetry in my father’s symphonic piece “La Espada” (The Sword) is an homage to Morelos; its spirit glorifies independence wars. Since Beethoven’s Eroica many pieces have been composed that broke away with the Ancien Régime and the zest produced by classical rococo. While several other classical composers composed war-like music, present-day music that produces a sense of zest is, in a certain sense, analogous to the rococo, albeit of a much inferior quality.

But I don’t want zest. I have stated that nations are born stoic and die epicurean. What we need in the following decades is the most austere form of Roman severitas. This painting of Roman swords represents pictorially what I have in mind musically.

People in the counter-jihad movement are not warriors. Like the rest of the westerners they smile. In contrast, the above-linked painting depicts a solemn owe to Roman swords. In the acclaimed Civilisation Kenneth Clark commented about that painting that after the Enlightenment there were “no more smiles”. In his 1969 TV series it was Clark the one who first showed me the need of Roman severitas during decadent times. In a recent post I spoke of the necessity to overthrow most Western governments through civil war. Of course, although “the true Viking spirit is that two is enough to make it happen”, as I quote a GoVer in the longest entry of this blog, I perfectly knew that I was talking to myself.

Music conveys the psychic state of a man like no other art. While my father had in mind the 19th century civil wars—listen to his music: the link is at the top of this entry—, in the 21st century I am still imbued with this symphonic call to belligerent action; and I find it dismaying that counter-jihad bloggers, like the pacifist Hal and many others, are deaf to it.



Postscript of 25 August 2010:

“This chapter began with Houdon’s statue of Voltaire, smiling the smile of reason; it could end with Houdon’s statue of Washington. No more smiles.” —Kenneth Clark

Although my father’s music refers to a Mexican war, I never really felt like a Mexican. I’d like to say that, from this time forth, until an American revolution arrives there is no reason to smile.

Eschatology: the cult that I left

Note of June 12, 2012. I’ve corrected the syntax of this article. Commenters are welcomed to read this article and opine about its content in the new incarnation of this blog: here.