A book in the series: Cultures
Understanding the West today requires recognising the extraordinary indifference and animosity white people feel towards their race and cultures. Shaken by two world wars and scarred by the Holocaust, we prefer other races and their cultures.
The West refuses to fear those other races and cultures, whatever they do. Instead, we fear white people slipping back into prejudice. We’re locked into a mindset of 1945.
We have to move on: to learn from the past but not remain there; to confront the reality of the present and the future. An inevitable consequence of multiculturalism is the West’s submission to self-confident, collective peoples. The most self-certain religion on earth is Islam.
- The Age of Ideology
- The Unfinished War
- Multiculturalism at War
- September Eleven, 2001
- Losing their Religion
- Staving off Prejudice
- Abandoning the Vulnerable
- Western Individualism
- The Peace of Nations
- Muslim Nationalism
- Other Peoples’ Rights
- Other Peoples’ Voices
- Defending Multiculturalism
- Wartime Propaganda
- Islamic Land
- Our Lands of Other People
- Redefining our Fallen
Chapter 1: The Age of Ideology
My paternal grandfather said little of the Second World War, except to explain his uniform was doused red by the blood of an Australian soldier standing beside him, killed by Japanese. Brave men and women aren’t fearless. They’re frightened, but do what virtue demands they do. My grandfather was a medical officer on Labuan, who parachuted into Changi Prison, Singapore, in 1945. Japanese guards stood around shocked by their emperor’s surrender, without thought of helping the British, Australian, and other prisoners of war they’d worked to near death.
All men aren’t created equal. There are no inalienable rights, no universal values. All cultures aren’t equal, least of all for people who’ve suffered because of particular cultures.
For a people who talk so much of the world, the West today is stunningly ignorant of the forces affecting us. Of all the killing throughout the world since Cain killed Abel, the most influential upon our time, still driving Western values, were the two world wars, but not the wars that were. World War II became the war redefined in retrospect: our retrospective war against prejudice, but only white people’s prejudice.
The French Revolution from 1789 had sought to replace the old European order with a new European civilisation. Rejecting that revolution for being bourgeois, nineteenth-century Jewish atheist Karl Marx rejected European civilisation altogether. Promising a new world civilisation to those who’d lost faith in Western civilisation, Marxist communism found its footing through World War I. The Age of Ideology began.
After winning power through revolution and civil war in the ravaged Russian Empire, communists promptly embarked upon more war, wherever they thought they’d win. Soviet Russia signed the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk with Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire early in 1918, but later that year reneged. (Muslim Turks had already broken the treaty by invading Christian Armenia in May.) Waging war when the rest of Europe found armistice, Russia attacked Estonia, Belarus, Ukraine, and Poland in an offensive aiming to make Europe communist by invasion or revolution. Poland thwarted it in 1921.
In response to the threat of communism when others hesitated, still rattled by war, fascism arose through the 1920s and ’30s. Most fascists were peaceful, not harming other races or countries but defending their own. My paternal grandfather, later an officer of the International Red Cross, was a member of the New Guard in Sydney. When the Australian government increased the excise on silk stockings imported from America, he honoured the terms on which he’d agreed to sell a shipment, instead of increasing his prices. It drove him to bankruptcy.
New South Wales fascism meant honouring our commitments: paying our debts rather than reneging from them. Instead of being nationalistic, the New Guard opposed Premier Jack Lang’s nationalism, when Australian nationalism meant separation from Britain. Among other responses to the Great Depression, Lang wanted Australia to default on overseas loans until economic conditions improved. Upstaging Lang as he prepared to open the Sydney Harbour Bridge in 1932, Irish-born New Guard leader Francis De Groot rode up on horseback and cut the ribbon with his sword, “in the name of the decent and respectable people of New South Wales.”
Lang’s dismissal from office and his party’s subsequent electoral defeat led to the New Guard waning in popularity. We had no more need for fascism. Lang, forever the nationalist, became an ever more outspoken critic of communism and defender of white Australia. Politics is complex.
Many people through the 1930s admired Germany’s dictator rebuilding his broken country. An animal lover and decorated Great War hero, the immigrant from Austria was proving to be one of only two political leaders able to bring his people out of the Great Depression. (The other was the similarly admired Franklin Delano Roosevelt in America.)
If Herr Hitler died then, he might’ve entered history as among the greatest leaders any country had seen, for what he’d accomplished through his few years in power. Having returned to Germans their self-respect (which their Great War losses gutted and the last of which we beat out of them at Versailles in 1919, and which their many achievements through the time of the Weimar Republic never really healed), we would’ve regretted the missed opportunity of all he could have gone onto achieve. The disenfranchising of Jews and their exodus elsewhere might’ve mattered no more than had previous pogroms in Russia.
Before Britain imagined another war with Germany (let alone the Holocaust), a renegade British voice (a drunkard and womaniser, no less) spoke of the danger Nazi Germany posed. Had we the lexicon then that we’ve developed of late, we’d have called Winston Churchill a bigot or Naziphobe: the paranoid, lunatic fringe. Being old and from the Conservative Party, he was yesterday’s man.
Adolf Hitler didn’t die then. Instead, Churchill entered history as among the world’s great leaders. Plagued by personal depression he called his “black dog,” he would say he never slept better than the night after he became prime minister.
The Russian and Spanish Civil Wars having been smaller wars between communists and nationalists, we speak of World War II as a war against fascism in our first great war of ideology, but fascist dictatorships in Spain and Portugal remained neutral. We left them alone.
World War II didn’t begin in Europe until Germany’s expansion reached beyond Czechoslovakia into Poland and threatened to continue. It was another war defending our countries, cultures, and Europe. Germany wanted to save us from communists and Jews. Much as we’d done in the Great War, Britain wanted to save us from Germany.
Britain had long fought wars against any country too powerful. Before the twentieth century, those wars were often against France. Later in the twentieth century, the Cold War would be against the communist Soviet Union. Had the Soviet Union invaded Poland in 1939 imposing communism as it subjugated Eastern Europe from 1945, we’d have declared war on the Soviet Union.
By 1945, we were all too weak from war to continue. Bloodied by two world wars, we had no more mood to fight and die. We’d won our wars and stopped fighting. We’d lost our wars and stopped fighting.
If we declared war on Germany in 1939 to keep Poland free, then the war in Europe was a failure. Poland wouldn’t be free until communism collapsed there in 1989. If we presumed Poland’s freedom was ours, we were wrong.
We don’t question the war because we’re taught it was a war against prejudice, but it wasn’t at the time. Save only for the Soviet Union seeking to erase races and cultures altogether, racial and religious discrimination were the norm the world over, before and during the war.
My grandfather’s enemy wasn’t intolerance. It was Germany and Japan. War-end revelations of the Holocaust weren’t enough to redefine the war, not for everyone involved. My grandfather respected Germans but, having seen what he’d seen, never ceased being wary of Japanese.
Nor did he cease being a man for God, King or Queen, and Country. God was no generic religion, but Christ Jesus. The King or Queen wasn’t monarchy as a system of government, but specifically our British King or Queen. The Country was Australia, indivisible from Britain. Men who’d seen their comrades die didn’t surrender their senses of nation.
In 1986, two years after my grandfather died, forty-one years after World War II ended, my girlfriend and I wandered through evening mist in the French hilltop town of Avranches. We stumbled upon a mammoth statue on a stone block that grateful townspeople four decades earlier erected in George Patton’s honour. Patton was arguably the most aggressive and combative American general in war, proudly taking more German casualties than any other. Upon Germany’s surrender, he stopped fighting.
If the war had been against prejudice, we didn’t persuade the people who fought. “I have been at Frankfurt for a civil government conference,” Patton wrote to his wife, the last Monday in August, 1945. “If what we are doing is ‘Liberty, then give me death.’ I can’t see how Americans can sink so low. It is Semitic, and I am sure of it.”
From an attempt at genocide came an era of revenge. The war wasn’t over.
“Today we received orders…in which we were told to give the Jews special accommodations,” he wrote in his diary. “If for Jews, why not Catholics, Mormons, etc.?” He went onto mention the enslavement of Germans we soon forgot. “We are also turning over to the French several hundred thousand prisoners of war to be used as slave labor in France.”
Patton’s view of Germans was kinder than any I’ve heard since then, particularly from Germans. “Actually, the Germans are the only decent people left in Europe,” he wrote the last day of August, 1945. Like others of his time, Patton mightn’t have considered Britain to be in Europe. “It’s a choice between them and the Russians. I prefer the Germans.” The Russia he described was communist.
While others exacted their revenge upon Germans, dismantling Germany, Patton had no wish to punish them more. “What we are doing is to destroy the only semi-modern state in Europe,” he wrote the first Sunday of September 1945, “so that Russia can swallow the whole.”
Patton’s war wasn’t against prejudice or even Nazism. As governor of Bavaria, he allowed Nazis to remain in office, equating them to America’s principal political parties. “This Nazi thing,” he told a press conference the penultimate Saturday of September 1945, “it’s just like a Democratic–Republican election fight.”
Nazi Germany couldn’t stop Patton. American newspapers could. Their ensuing outrage quickly led to him being removed from office; his saving Europe mattered less than their hatred of Nazis. In December, he died from injuries received in a crash between American military vehicles.
My particular interest in Patton has long been less in the man, than in a brother’s pride. The 1970 American film Patton was based upon two books, including a biography Patton: Ordeal and Triumph written by my Uncle Paul’s brother, Ladislav Farago. Forever proud of his brother for having written it, Paul kept a weighty, old hardback edition in his library. Ladislav left Hungary for America before the war.
The day before my forty-seventh birthday, laid up with a bout of ’flu and sinus infection, I finally watched the film. Among many memorable moments was one when Patton and another soldier walked in cold air among fallen soldier’s graves in the sand. They wandered up a small rise from which they looked across the desert, beyond which were German soldiers, graves, and Patton’s counterpart, Field Marshal Erwin Rommel. “You know,” said Patton, “if I had my way, I’d send that genius son of a bitch an engraved invitation in iambic pentameter: A challenge in two stanzas to meet me out there alone in the desert… Rommel in his tank and me in mine, we’d stop about twenty paces. We’d get out and shake hands. We’d button up and we’d do battle, just the two of us. That battle would decide the outcome of the war.”
Such a duel would’ve saved millions of lives. When I was young, I’d had much the same idea as to how wars could be fought, without so many dying. World War II in Europe would have been a bout between Churchill and Hitler, without armies or countries. The two men could’ve fought with guns, swords, or their bare hands in a private room, field, or stadium before crowds of their countrymen; whatever they wanted. I imagined neither man being so quick to risk his life as he was to condemn his compatriots to die.
“Too bad jousting’s gone out of style,” the other soldier in the film replied to Patton. “It’s like your poetry, General. It isn’t part of the twentieth century.”
I hope Patton really said those words, or something like so romantic an ideal. Rommel might’ve accepted the invitation. Among the injured in a German hospital Rommel inspected was a British Army soldier Jim McConnell. Rommel spoke with him as gentlemen spoke, respecting him. Decades later, that soldier was the schoolmaster I knew as Jock.
Rommel defied orders to kill captured Jewish soldiers, and was implicated in a plot to kill Hitler in 1944. For his prestige, Hitler allowed him to commit suicide; some prestige.
Looking back six decades later, Rommel wasn’t our impression of the people we’d been fighting. Patton wasn’t our impression of the people we’d been.
Reminding me that the war wasn’t against prejudice, Patton and his fellow soldier in the film walked back towards their soldiers’ graves. “I want a twenty-four hour guard put around this area,” said Patton. “Those damned Arabs will dig them out, just to get their clothes.”
Soon enough, the favours we granted Jews we granted other races and their religions. With ideologies ignited by the Great War debacle burning more fiercely than ever, the cruellest conflicts in the world became those between white people.
Communism fell in Eastern Europe in 1989. The Soviet Union collapsed in 1991. Whatever Marxism then came to mean, it remained a rejection of Western cultures, societies, and civilisation. Understanding the West of the early twenty-first century requires recognising the extraordinary indifference and animosity white people (and not simply the Marxists) feel towards their race and culture.
Normally hiding from public shaming and punishment, or simply too weak, tired, or uncertain of themselves to resist, are Western nationalists: caring for their countries, cultures, and races. In control are the globalists, the multiculturalists: neglectful and often belligerent towards Western countries, cultures, and races. It’s the tussle between support and separation, self-belief and self-loathing, self-determination and self-destruction. It’s the struggle between trying to move on from two world wars and remaining in the mire.
There’s no greater burden upon people than espousing loyalty to those who scold us for our loyalty, but our people are no less our people for being disloyal. Ideologies are unnatural, which is why nationalism, nativism, racism, and other tribalism aren’t ideologies. Western socialism, capitalism, conservatism, and liberalism that were nationalist and racist became multiculturalist. What had been competing ideas for advancing civilisation became ideological, uninterested in our countries and cultures.
No other race is so inimical to its own, to anyone who’d save it. Ours is a uniquely Western conflict: an internecine clash in which other races side with whomever suits them. They’re comfortable with their countries, cultures, and races: their racism and nationalism. Some contemptuous of Western nationalism became sympathetic in the face of Muslim terror.
Other races now harm us with our concurrence. It’s one thing to have an idea, such as all cultures being equal, or the dream of a single world civilisation. It’s quite another to hold steadfast to that dream or idea when people are dying. That’s ideology.
Multiculturalism fails because it’s predicated upon individualism, however much the noble and ignoble wish otherwise. Individualism fails because individuals are small, whether in fine homes with deep principles or in caravans with broken wheels. No matter how much smarter, stronger, or richer an individual may be over another, the cumulative capacities of races and nations exceed those of individuals. A stupid, weak, and poor population prevails over wise, robust, and wealthy individuals by the force of numbers, the weight of so many: the rule of nations. A solitary person, however brilliant and able, is no match for a mob.
The world is no place for individuals. When we renounced Western civilisation, we left spaces to be filled.
There will never be a global civilisation as the West understands civilisation to be. The rest of the world doesn’t want it. If there ever is a world civilisation, then it’ll be because a race or league of races imposes it. Rights, religion, and everything else will be for that race or league, not us, to determine.
The inevitable outcome of multiculturalism is our submission to self-confident, collective peoples. The most self-certain, collective religion on earth is Islam.
Whatever the majority of Muslims thinks hardly matters. Be they races, collective religions, nations, or anything else, tribes aren’t driven by the majority. The masses busy with their daily lives (working, feeding their families, or playing) follow or acquiesce. Tribes are driven by the few with power and zeal. We are.