“So let us state what is true. God reveals Himself to us through the intimate mysterious human relationships we form with our kith and kin. The moral beauty of the European hearth, where our kith and kin dwell, points us to the Star of Bethlehem. The moral depravity of the syncretic religion of rationalism and diversity points us toward the kingdom of Satan. The most counter-revolutionary thing that a European man can do is to refuse to bend his knee to the new diversity of races and faiths. Such a refusal will make the European man a sign of contradiction to Satan and his minions. And such is the European man’s destiny. He was born to bear witness, through his fidelity to the European hearth, to the Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the world.” – CWNY
When I was in my early twenties my extreme aversion to travel was forced to take a backseat to my intense desire to see that sacred land where Shakespeare, Dickens, and Walter Scott once dwelled in the flesh and still in spirit dwell. I was fortunate to meet some older Britons who were still of old Britain. And I was fortunate that a young man could travel cheaply if he was willing to sleep in odd places and keep to a sparse diet. Once while staying at a mountaineers’ hostel on the Isle of Skye, I was asked, in return for my lodging, to “shoo the cows from the lower pasture to the upper pasture.” I was city-bred and had never met a cow up close and personal, so I asked the woman who had assigned me my chore if there was any special technique one should use when shooing cows from the lower to the upper pasture. “Just shoo the lead cow and the rest will follow,” I was told. So, after the lead cow was pointed out to me – she had the traditional name of Bessie – I proceeded to the lower pasture in the hopes that I would soon behold the sight of Bessie leading some fifty cows or so from the lower pasture to the upper pasture. It was not that simple. I started out very politely, saying, “Shoo, Bessie.” Bessie just stared at me. “Come on, Bessie, old girl, time to go to the upper pasture,” I said next. Maybe Bessie didn’t like being called old because she still refused to move, much to the delight of some workers looking on. “This is becoming quite embarrassing,” I told myself, “I must get this cow to move.” I tried pointing while I pleaded, “Up there, Bessie, I want you to go up there.” Bessie was obdurate and didn’t move a muscle. I was beginning to think I was the victim of a hoax, that Bessie was really a statue of a cow placed there to fool city folk such as I for the amusement of country folk such as they. Then the proprietor of the farm-hostel, who had been observing me from the porch, screamed, “You have to speak with more authority.” I didn’t believe the woman by this time and thought this was just part of the joke, but I thought I might just as well be a good sport, so I mustered up my very best authoritative voice, faced Bessie, and told her to “march right up to the upper pasture before I kick you in the butt.” Lo and behold! Bessie marched right up to the upper pasture and all the other cows followed her. The farm hands and mountaineers all applauded. So the city boy triumphed. He performed the Herculean task of shooing the cows from the lower pasture to the upper pasture. But thank God I wasn’t asked to milk the cows.
Those cows with Bessie at the head are the modern Europeans, both male and female. They need someone to speak authoritatively to them and tell them to stop grazing in Liberaldom and move to the upper pastures of their European ancestors. In those green and pleasant upper pastures a white man does not experience life secondhand through negroes and the pasture is not seeded with the ethos of Babylon. But who will tell the modern Europeans to stop grazing in Liberaldom and return to their European pastures? And to what authority do the Europeans look for guidance? Ah, there’s the rub. Even if a man of the upper pastures could be found to speak authoritatively to the Europeans would they listen?
The primary authority of the European grazers is the great liberal oligarchy. The liberals control the media outlets, the schools, the government and unfortunately the churches as well. It’s like the old Westerns when a cowboy knight errant comes into a town and discovers that everybody in town cringes and crawls before one ruthless and evil man. The knight errant asks, “Why do you let this man run the town this way?” The bought-and-paid-for sheriff tells the knight errant, “This town eats because Rupert Ruthless puts meat on their tables, and nobody is going to put themselves or their family at risk by opposing Rupert Ruthless.”
“And what about the law?” the knight errant asks. “Are you afraid of Rupert Ruthless too?”
“I’m bought and paid for,” the old sheriff sighs, “and I’m too old to go to another town and another job.” The knight errant goes to the town minister and gets the same reaction as he got from the sheriff, “It’s best not to oppose Rupert Ruthless. I advise my people to get along.”
Of course the tall handsome stranger has no intention of “getting along” with the powers that be. He is a knight errant and knight errants are not moral utilitarians. He kills the two low life henchmen who Ruthless sends against him, which forces Ruthless to shift his tactics. He sends his lawyers to buy off the cowboy knight. They fail: he can’t be bought. Then Ruthless sends the beautiful dance hall girl to seduce the knight errant and make him forget his sacred mission. She too fails. Now it’s time for Ruthless to send for the best gun money can buy. When he arrives he meets the hero in the middle of the street for a gun duel which terminates with the death of the hired gun. You should know the rest of the story. The Western knight finishes what he started. He kills Rupert Ruthless, before Ruthless is able to shoot him in the back with a shotgun, and he rides out of town, leaving the townspeople free to build a better town or to find another Rupert Ruthless to sell their souls to.
The cowboy knight’s honor would not be compromised if he left town with a bride, the fair-haired daughter of the old world weary sheriff. But in this case the fair-haired damsel, though attracted to the knight errant, decides that she needs a more entrepreneurial-minded mate to help her to fulfill her dream of becoming the first woman to head up the Wells Fargo Express office. “How much do knight errants make,” she muses. “It can’t be very much.” The practical, forward-thinking damsel decides against our hero. Maybe in another town.
The old westerns were in the mold of the European fairy tales and as such they were essentially correct in their portrayals of life. The real spiritual battles that we fight are not usually as overtly physical as in the westerns, but the symbolism in the westerns is correct. We fight against an ancient foe who will stop at nothing to destroy the European people. Money, sex, power: he knows all the temptations and he does not adhere to any code of conduct: “Whatever works,” is his motto. And liberalism, the synthesis of all the demonic arts, is working quite well. The grazing Europeans seem to be permanently ensconced in the lower Babylonian pasture, grazing contently without any knowledge of an upper European pasture. So the question remains, “Is there any authoritative voice that could possibly move the European people from the lower Babylonian pasture to the upper European pasture?”
I can only point out what I see in the Europeans’ past. There once was a voice that moved them. That voice has been silenced because the human channels of grace have been dammed up. The church men, who slavishly cater to the whims of the liberal oligarchy, tell us we need not worry about a thing, under their intellectual guidance Christianity is progressing from a dirtwater, provincial, European faith to a universal, evolving faith that benefits all mankind instead of just one race of people. But God imparts to particular human hearts not to universal aggregates. If you tell me that God could have chosen another people to be the Christ bearers, I will tell you, “That is more than I know. All I know is that He did choose the Europeans.” And now that European hearts have grown tepid is the Christian faith being championed by the colored hordes? Are the colored people better off now, when the Europeans worship them instead of Christ? I certainly don’t think so. When the Europeans were intensely provincial, faith, hope, ad charity abounded, not only at the European hearth fires, but also at the hearth fires of those colored people who saw a light in the Europeans’ culture that they, with only partial understanding, tried to serve. Uncle Remus is a better man than ten thousand Obamas or Jesse Jacksons rolled into one. But still the anti-Christian church men beat their tom-toms and bid the white grazers come and worship their newfound gods of color.
Refusing to worship the colored gods, despite the mandate of church, state, and society, is the primary task of the European. Men who refuse to worship the colored gods, and who stay connected to the European past, will be able to speak from the heart to the European grazers. Will the grazers listen? Not all of them, but I agree with Burke who tells us that we should never look on our own people as irredeemable. If we speak from the depths of a heart that loves old Europe and hates Liberaldom, then we will find other hearts who will respond. An earthquake starts with a few small tremors. But we should never be deceived into believing that we can be Christian and liberal. Liberalism is from the devil and the lynchpin of Liberalism is racial diversity. Once a man steps outside his racial stronghold where his kith and kin dwell, he becomes grist for Satan’s mills. He will placidly graze in the lower pastures of Babylon, a man without a God and without a people.
For many years now I’ve watched the pro-lifers write petitions, hold protest marches and vote pro-life. All to no avail. Abortion is more ensconced in our unhallowed land than ever before. Why is this? Abortion has become part of the permanent fabric of our nation because European Christians left provincial, European Christianity behind and embraced propositional, universalist Christianity. In provincial European Christianity, which is now called racialism, the murder of infants was not tolerated. Men whose faith is bred in the bone do not have to discuss the problem of infanticide, they simply kill the perpetrators of such heinous acts. ‘Tis not so with the propositional Christian. He talks and he discusses, he pleads with the liberals to be merciful, and he votes. But people who have given themselves to the devil are not merciful. The only thing that will deter liberals from committing monstrous acts of cruelty is the sword of retribution. And no propositional Christian, grazing in the lower pastures of Babylon, is capable of wielding such a sword. Only a man who has not been spiritually emasculated, a man who has a racial stronghold, can fight Satan and his minions. The pro-lifers and their conservative counterparts are like the defenders of a fort who give the enemy attacking the fort a certain number of their own people in the hopes that the enemy will let them alone. But the dishonorable sacrifice only whets the enemies’ appetite for more victims and more plunder. Soon the fort is conquered and every defender is put to the sword. There is a moral here. When the European intelligentsia abandoned their race in an attempt to save their propositional churches, their propositional economies, and their propositional governments, they lost that which makes them human: their sacred blood ties to their people and their God. Without those ties of blood they became secondhand men and women incapable of passionate defenses of unborn babies or anyone else. All they can do is worship the liberal-sanctioned gods and beg the liberals to throw them a few concessions every now and then. The liberals never do. They simply tighten the noose.
The bovine analogy has its limits. A cow cannot be stirred to the depths of her soul, but a European can. I must repeat an old refrain: When the European hero, the man connected to the living God through the spirit and blood of His people, stands up to Satan and his minions and issues the command, “This shall not go on,” the liberals’ day will be over. The grazers will see with blinding sight through the eyes of the hero, and they will return to the green and pleasant pasture of “racist” Europe, in which they can once again see and follow their lode star, the Star of Bethlehem. +