by Trainspotter

I’ve had a recurring vision for some time now, and I’m no longer certain as to whether it is a dream or a fantasy.  I only know that I cannot forget it.  In this vision, we have won.  Victory is complete and total, our own land for our own people. The tribe, our tribe, is free to breathe with deep lungs.  There are pretty girls to be admired, songs to be sung.  Our songs, the way only we can sing them.  Great vistas open up before us, and there is the inescapable feeling that thousands of years have somehow been won.  The past,  present, and future, the call of the stars.  The magnitude of it all is, quite simply, staggering. 

Yet, in this vision, I am drawn away from the joy, in fact I don’t feel it at all, at least not for long.  No, that’s not right.  Not at all.  There is a task at hand, something that has been weighing upon me for a long time, no longer to be ignored. There is a grave to visit, a grave from another world.  A world now mercifully dead and buried, but a world that still leaves its stain, its mark.  Channon and Christopher’s graves. 

I go to the grave site, but what can be said? Do I not fancy myself as something of an orator?  Yet, in this vision, words fail me, they tire me, they embarrass me.  They seem so utterly ridiculous and patronizing, and most anything that I could say would be a preposterous lie, dishonoring me and them.  Yet I know what has to be said, that and nothing else.  The words are inescapable, they force themselves upon me.  “We came too late.”  That’s it, but now again.  “We came too late.”

Those words, those four words, are the only ones spoken in this dream of mine. I find that these four words impose themselves upon me, one way or another, all too often these days. 

I look at my nephews and nieces, and I can’t help but smile.  Really great kids, I think the world of them.  It’s not too far from the truth to say that they worship me; I’m by far their favorite uncle.  I think they feel about me the same way that, in my own childhood, I felt about an older cousin.  He was a God walking on earth, a hero among mere mortals, as far as I was concerned.

Yet, what does the future hold?  These children will be, in fact already are, subjected to daily assault by our most dedicated enemies.  One niece in particular, not even three, is the Nordic archetype.  A truly beautiful child, striking to strangers.  I know that every effort will be made to separate her from her people, to make her despise them, or at least instill indifference.  A mere ten or so years from now, she could be gyrating to the most noxious Negro music, her head filled with the most repugnant thoughts. This child, and millions more like her, innocent and by all rights entitled to a sane world governed by her own people, stands as sheep ready for the slaughter.  Is it my fate to become the weird uncle, the crank, the strange symbol of a dying people that the young can only look at with derision and wonder?  Is that it?  Is that where this is heading?

I feel something similar whenever I see young white children these days.  Can we win in time? Without thinking, I do the simple math, it’s automatic now. 

“O.K., let’s see, this child has about ten years left before being thrown to the wolves.  Can we win by then?  Will we be too late?”

The bottom line is that we are running out of time.  The body count keeps growing, the river of blood continues to rise but is never sated.  Our people are being destroyed in countless ways, great and small.  For how many more victims, for how many more families, must we say, “We came too late?” 

I have made no secret of my conviction that, in order to win, the cultural ground must be prepared first.  Until street activists start reporting real success and a true resonance with our message, we will know that we must do better. Ultimately, that’s the proof that we need, the only proof that matters.  It is our job to do what we can to develop appealing, winning white nationalist ideas, and spread them to the best of our ability. 

We must develop ideas that are capable of challenging the status quo and existing norms, and we must do it soon.  To that end, I propose a project, namely one post a week for fifty weeks.  Each post will cover a distinct topic, each building upon the last.  The “50” should, to the extent practicable, be comprehensive, dealing with everything from ontology to economics, from first principles to strategy and tactics, from evolutionary psychology to political systems.  I realize that is a lot for 50 topics, which is why the single most important part of this project is at the beginning, coming up with the “50” questions or propositions.  Then, unleash the carnivores of majorityrights, hammer it out, and move on to the next topic in the following week. 

I realize the limitations of handling things this way, and it will only work with meaningful collaboration.  But we’ve got to impose some sort of structure on ourselves, and some type of time limit.  This project, by its nature, imposes both.  I am not proposing “philosophy by committee,” though it might seem that way at first.  Whoever hosts this will, ultimately, have to make the final call.  Personally, I believe that others may be better suited for this task than I.  Certainly guessedworker and Greg Johnson come to mind, just for starters.  I understand that Haller is working on something, so maybe he would be interested.  However, I am willing to do it. 

The first task is to come up with the comprehensive “50.” If there is interest in this project, please submit any ideas for the list on this thread.  Feel free to offer just one, or your entire list of 50.  The more the merrier.  If I’m doing this, I will synthesize the suggestions, and come up with the final 50.  Again, the idea is that the 50 topics should provide a comprehensive overview of who we are, where we are going, and ultimately how to get there.  We’ve only got 50, so we’ve got to make them count.  I’m stronger in some areas than others, so if the list were left entirely to me, I think some important areas will find themselves neglected.  I hope to avoid that. 

Let’s do this, for all that have come before us and for generations yet unborn.  Let us at least try, for even if we fail in this particular task, it will only free us up for another approach.  We will not quit. 

For many victims of the butcher, we will never escape the stain of “We came too late.”  What’s done, most tragically, has been done. Our losses, while already grievous, compare as nothing to the good that we may accomplish.  Just as our past stretches back into the primordial mists of time, so too may future generations of our tribe journey into worlds distant and far.  It is up to us to see that they will have an existence at all. 

So much is at stake here and, though we did not choose it to be so, all signs point to our fate largely being determined in the years ahead.  Like it or not, it’s our fight.  Perhaps we are, or can be, what the Germans once called a “community of fate.” Let’s make the most of it, for the good of the tribe. 

For Victory In Our Time,

Trainspotter

by The Narrator

This is an assessment (aka, a rant) of where America currently is, circa 2010, and where it is headed, save an asteroid strike.  Europe, you’re only a step or two behind.

The first thing to mention, of course, is that America has a black president by the name of Barack Hussein Obama. Let that sink in for a second.

That, in and of itself, is beyond any possible conception of reality most Americans could have imagined in their most grim of nightmares just twenty years ago. Twenty years! That’s 1990!

But then, just twenty years ago (1990!), America was still in the neighborhood of 70 to 75% White. Again, just twenty years ago.

Equally inconceivable to Americans back then, is the notion that everything from customer service over the phone to the directions on a can of soup would be in Spanish as well as English.

Of course some will point out that people were seeing such things in places like Los Angeles or New York and warning of the coming storm. And that’s true. But at that time the clouds on the horizon were not yet in range of 99% of Americans view (America is a big place). By the time they were, the proverbial rains we’re already pounding down.

Besides that, the fact that some were warning of the coming storm twenty years ago (and even earlier) and, well, here we are never the less.  It should give us all pause in our feverish excitement about some politician “voicing concern” or some new book explaining the direness of our plight.

On demographics, it’s truly difficult to ascertain the real situation. Officially, America is still over 60% “white” (“white” being those of European, middle-eastern and north African heritage, as per the Census definition).  Unofficially the percentages don’t match up with what you see with your own eyes. I’ve gone into this before here, so I’ll only add now that it would be perfectly understandable for a tourist to come to the conclusion that America is about 42% White and 58% non-White.  And that’s keeping in mind that in 1965 America was around 90% White, and that all of this has happened without any opposition whatsoever. Not one single leader came forward to oppose the most destructive agenda in human history. Not one!

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by Cladrastis

What we REQUIRE is a sea change in leadership – from a self-serving “universalist” kleptocracy to an altruistic and philosophically-rooted particularist aristocracy; an aristocracy that will place the interests of the nation before the personal interests of the individuals who are a part it. Apropos we must address two related questions: how do we bring about such a change within the extant political framework, and what will prevent an ultra-nationalist European aristocracy from sliding inexorably back into the oblivion of plutocracy?

We will “fix” the plutocratic system by instituting policies that invert the relationship between political and economic power. For a man to attain political power he will be forced to make economic sacrifices commensurate with the rank to which he aspires. Similarly, the rich man will lose political rights based on the degree to which he has amassed personal wealth. Such an inverted relationship between economic and political power lends itself naturally to James Bowery’s idea of the net asset tax, but in this instance, the tax incurs political as well as economic costs.

Intellectuals, who rarely amass great fortunes, would then emerge as one of the most promising pools of political potential. Contrariwise, individuals from the moneyed class would be eligible for office if, and only if, they relinquish their personal fortunes; by doing so, the rich man demonstrates his altruism in a tangible manner and shows the public to whom his political beneficence will be directed (does the rich man donate his money to a Guatemalan orphanage, to his sons, or to the local school system?). Notice that this encourages philanthropy, the disentangling of national and business interests, and the socialization of wealth, but also results in a certain degree transparency.

We would be wise to heed Blake’s familiar and pessimistic warning, “The iron hand crush’d the tyrant’s head, And became a tyrant in his stead,” by taking note of the forces that a tyrant do make. The rich have proven themselves time and again wholly unfit to rule. The Marxist critique of the bourgeois class is (in part) valid; however Marxists are too dishonest to accurately assess the stupidity of the dictatorship of the proletariat (in any of its theoretical permutations). Perhaps it is time to adopt the Marxist critique, but add to it an aristocratic response. Perhaps ... this is how we will prevent the Enemy from taking advantage of his next golden opportunity.

Some ten hours ago the Daily Mail placed a story on its website about the trial and sentencing of a “British-Asian” paedophile gang who forced a white girl into prostitution.  So far it is the only MSM to carry the story.

No doubt, BNP members everywhere will be saying “we told you so”, and a number of them made this point with comments in the Mail’s thread.  For their trouble they received a four-figure reward of reader ratings, which is extremely rare for this site.  However, making the same point but far out ahead of them ratings-wise, with over 2768 at the time of writing, was this remark by one Steve of County Durham:

Remember how both Channel 4 and the BNP of all people were roundly condemned as racist for trying to get the story out about mainly asian muslim men coercing, forcing, and manipulating young white girls into prostitution.

I know the liberal multi cultural do gooders will try and justify this, but i just dont care any more.

So what, aside from serendipity and the trigger-happy outrage of the average Mail reader, accounts for the thousand plus extra ratings over, say, this comment (1683) which is two below it on the thread:

Sorry to bring this up but wasnt it the BNP who tried to bring this up not so long back that girls were being groomed by Asians.Of course they were only being racist no body wanted to hear the facts dont know why! Oh yes the BNP are treated as not the best of people makes you think when compared to these people.

Or this one (1742) which is five below it:

I have a feeling that some Asians think that they live in some sort of Asian country where they can treat women like they want.

... and is the next highest scorer on the thread, which is currently 215 comments strong.

Well, it’s those last six little words, isn’t it?  The sentiment they contain goes something like: the apologists for diversity will say what they always say.  They will tell me Islam is the religion of peace, and immigration has enriched us.  They will tell me the multiracial future of Britain is “inevitable”.  They will call me a “hater” and a “xenophobe” and a “racist”, a morally illegitimate human being.  Whatever.  Nothing they can tell me will do them any good.  I just dont care any more.

Click.

This disaffection is the future.  It’s inevitablist, of course.  That is, it emerges naturally in the public sentiment, without any engineering.  So I don’t imagine there is anything the Establishment can do about it.  Certainly not liberals.  With their word tools growing more blunt and anti-productive by the day, they are simply too exhausted now to resort to argument by principle (check the thread, which is currently unmoderated).  It will be left increasingly to Africans and Asians to insist upon squatters rights, and that won’t work out at all well for them.

The only points of light for the Establishment are that the BNP is in a deep hole and the Tories are in government, from where they can always advance the Sarko stratagem if they have to.  Oh, and the demographic nightmare is still very much in train.  Other inevitablist sentiments - like “England can never be Africa, Africans can never be English” - are going to have to appear in public consciousness if the BNP cannot lead that debate.  Discourse, as ever, is war.

by Cladrastis

Prometheus awoke from a terrible dream one night – a dream of a war in heaven. In his vision, the gods were defeated, their powers taken from them, and their palaces and gardens destroyed. The gods themselves had fallen from heaven and many among them had perished in the conflagration. In desperation, Prometheus did something that no one had ever dared before; he stole from the mind of the sleeping Deus a flame that had been jealously guarded for aeons. Fleeing heaven with the speed of a sparrow hawk, Prometheus held the sunburst tight against his breast; as he flew through the blackness of space holding the flame next to him, he was transformed by it. From his flesh, fiery feathers sprouted, and his arms transmuted into wings; as the sun was bright, his eyes became dark. With each beat of his wings, the light bearer’s appearance became more outrageous, more avian, and more intensely colored, until erupting in one last explosion of activity, the fire consumed him. He crashed into earth as a fireball and was discovered crumpled on the ground by a man and woman. With his final agonizing breath, Prometheus called to the man, saying, “feed me dear human, that I may bestow upon you the divine wind of the gods.” So the man tossed some grain and meat into the fire, and placed upon it incense woods. As the man did so, a jeweled egg rose from the undying ashes of the fallen angel’s body.

After some time had passed, and the man and woman gazed intently at the egg incubating in the embers, the shell cracked and a hatchling struggled to free itself; in its beak it held an emerald seed. Thanking the man for his kindness, the Firebird gave him the seed and told the man to plant it in a green hill-country. The resurrected bird said to the man and woman, “I have betrayed the gods and cannot return to them. I foresaw their end and your beginning; allow my spirit to dwell with you, and I will bestow upon you many more gifts than I have given you this day.” To this the man assented, and the Firebird turned himself into a flaming “crown of thorns” and alighted on the man’s head. The Firebird said “I will be with you always, and though the gods may beset you with many hardships, you will overcome them.” As he spoke these words, Prometheus dissolved into the man’s brow. From that day forward, man was lord over the Earth.

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by PF

White Nerd: You know, I really like rap music, because the singer is talking about his struggle. And I really identify with that. Like, I have my own struggle, you know, each of us has our own struggle.

Black security guard: Struggle? What do you know about struggle?

White Nerd: Like my struggle to fit in with my peers, find out what I want to do with my life, find companionship, get out of my parent’s control, etc.

Black security guard: You call that a struggle? How can you call that a struggle?

White Nerd: What do you mean?

Black security guard: You know what a struggle is, not having enough money to have a new pair of shoes.

White Nerd: um ...

Black: Finding out your baby sister just got knocked-up by a crack head!

White: uh ...

Black: Growing up not knowing who you’re daddy is! Thats a struggle!

White: ull ...

Black: Havin’ your mom killed by a drug dealer when you was two! Thats what a struggle is!

White: uff ...

Black: Every day hearing shots and not being sure, if your friends is out there dyin’! Thats a struggle!

White: utt ...

Black: What’choo want to tell me about a struggle? What’choo know about a struggle?

White: udd ...

Black: You means to tell me, when you’se in your pretty white house, that you sometimes ride around in your nice car, and feel sad about yourself, because you’ daddy didn’t understand you? Is you sad because your friends don’t understand you? Is that your struggle?

White: urr ...

Black: Cuz let me tell ya somethin’ son, that aint’ nothin’.

- End of fake discussion -

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by PF

Critiques have consequences. Right now the greatest superpower on Earth, the United States, is faced with fundamental questions about its existence that it just can’t answer. What are we? Who are we? What should our strategic goals be? What are the fundamentals of our culture? All of these questions in my opinion are iterations of the first one: what are we? No satisfactory answer is forthcoming or can be agreed upon.

It is possible to intuit how an entity subject to such mass confusion cannot possibly continue to exist, but rather appears to simply be waiting on a series of transformations which will alter it beyond recognition. This is because an entity that doesn’t understand what it is, cannot maintain itself against the forces of entropy which, necessarily, will pull and push and work on it. Our predecessors in the 60s, 70s and 80s laid the cultural foundation for this dissolution of nationhood. In the late 70s, 80s, and 90s the resulting anomie began to have obvious consequences for the structural aspects of national existence - of which I would mention Ponzi economics and the dumbing down of school curricula and pop culture. Today the only thing that is sure is that the knock-on effects and unintended consequences of these mass movements are likely to carry us past several consecutive points-of-no-return, into a reality unmapped, unplanned, and given what little we can foresee of it, likely very dangerous.

To think, it may one day all end in nuclear war.

(If you have quibbles with the articulation of the preamble, I ask you to holster them, on the grounds that I wish to discuss something besides The General State of Things And How We Got Here)

Probably the most important causal strain underlying this cultural transformation was an act of intellectual warfare summarized in Kevin MacDonald’s The Culture of Critique. The perpetrators of these acts answer to the names of Cultural Marxism, Critical Theory, the Frankfurt School, and Boasian Anthropology.

Its quite remarkable to experience how these understandings, having trickled-down into knee-jerk reactions of even the intellectual proletariat, infuse every discussion. As Jonathan Bowden put it, they “permeate the ether”. The conclusions and tactics of these critiques have become some of the only common threads of our intellectual discourse, and an unconscious intelligenzia has busily spun itself a whole new cultural tapestry using them as a basis. The more people borrow their thoughts from the hive-mind, the more this ideational lattice-work appears to be independently rediscovered as an underlying facet of reality itself. Of course the observer is pointing to a reality that he himself has unconsciously structured and is calling it “World!”, as is par for the course with us, but it demonstrates that the battle which we lost was, first of all, an intellectual one.

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by Karl LaForce

I was very incredulous when I first saw this piece.

THE stunned black dad of a newborn, WHITE, baby girl declared yesterday — “I’m sure she’s my kid ... I just don’t know why she’s BLONDE.”

… But as the baby’s older brother and sister - both black - crowded round the “little miracle” at their home in South London, Ben declared: “Of course she’s mine.”

Blue-eyed blonde Nmachi, whose name means “Beauty of God” in the Nigerian couple’s homeland, has baffled genetics experts because neither Ben nor wife Angela have ANY mixed-race family history.

Pale genes skipping generations before cropping up again could have explained the baby’s appearance.

Ben also stressed: “My wife is true to me. Even if she hadn’t been, the baby still wouldn’t look like that.

It is much like several other reports that have appeared in the press over the past few years (for example, the mulato couple that had the twins, one white and one black, or the various white couples who have had a black baby).  Average people of all races see this sort of thing as feel-good human-interest material, so they do not look at it critically.  The automatic presumption is that the people reported to be the parents, are in fact the parents; you know, “momma’s baby, daddy’s maybe”.

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