Of Soda Pop and Babylon

And a mighty angel took up a stone like a great millstone, and cast it into the sea, saying, Thus with violence shall that great city Babylon be thrown down, and shall be found no more at all.  – Revelations 18:21

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It’s always surprising, this puppet show of memory. The other day it took me back to my tenth year on earth. I was on vacation in St. Augustine, Florida, with my parents and siblings. Motels were a relatively recent phenomenon at that time, and they provided infinite delight to me and my brother. We ran up and down the outside corridors and counted all the different types of soda in the soda machine. An elderly woman and her husband, both with thick Southern accents, ran the motel. By rights they should have told my brother and me to get lost and stop fiddling with the soda machines, but instead the woman invited us into her office and asked us about our school. When that failed to ignite a spark in us she asked us about baseball.  That worked. I proceeded to babble on about my prowess as a hitter and fielder, piling lie upon lie. Then I had a root beer and my brother had an orange crush, compliments of the management, before going back to our room.

The next day we went to the beach, and we were quite surprised to find the beautiful St. Augustine beach to be completely deserted. Was the water shark-infested? Was the air filled with those hideous green flies? None of the above seemed to be the case, so my family and I had a wonderful day on the beach. On our way back to our room, my father and mother stopped in at the motel office and asked, “Why were the beaches so empty — it was a beautiful day?” The reply: “Some black boys tried to swim on the all white beach the other day, there were fights, and the police had to come and clear the beaches. It will be a few days before things return to normal.”  Obviously, after all these years I can’t quote the exact words of the elderly lady, but that was the gist of her reply.

Then, as he left, my father passed a remark to my mother, which (I’m paraphrasing) amounted to a criticism of Southern whites, “When will these people learn to get along.”

As my parents left, I lingered and heard the woman say to her husband, “They just don’t understand.” Now ten-year-olds are not the sharpest tacks in the human drawer, and I was not a particularly bright ten-year-old, but I did understand two things. The first was that the elderly couple, particularly the woman, had been kind to my brother and me. And secondly, it didn’t seem at all unreasonable to my unseasoned young mind that the blacks should keep to their beaches and the whites should keep to theirs. I could see that my father’s remark had hurt the woman’s feelings, and I felt vaguely responsible. I wanted to say something of comfort, so I stammered out, “I love Robert E. Lee.”

The woman’s reaction took me back. She got all teary-eyed and came around the counter, over to me. “You’re a little darling,” she said as she kissed me on the forehead. I’ve never been one for public displays of affection, so I was not too thrilled about the kiss, but I did have a good feeling when I left the office because I felt I had been of some comfort to the woman who had been kind to me.

Now why do I tell such a story about some obviously “bigoted” Southern people from a bygone era? I tell that story, because those kindly Southern people, born in the 19^th century, were Europeans. They were the last of a breed of people that has largely disappeared from the face of the earth, who once inhabited the countries of Europe and various offshoots of Europe, such as South Africa, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the United States. They were a special breed of people who saw life feelingly. In their blood was an instinctive hatred of all things cruel, ignoble, and uncharitable. They loved and respected the ethos of Christian Europe. “All this from a bottle of pop?” Yes, all that from a bottle of pop. Walter Scott could have walked into that motel office and been right at home with those dear old folks from long ago. One generation later and Walter Scott wouldn’t have known what planet the strange new breed of people were from. And it has been my task, regardless of my fitness for the task, to render homage, respect, and love to those older European people and their culture. They, like the Southern motel owners, have been maligned and spit upon by state, church, and press for so long and so often that words in their defense seem so inadequate in the face of the avalanche of hate falling on them from Mount Liberaldom. But it is natural, in the spiritual sense of the word ‘natural,’ that a European should defend that which is good and true and noble. Even if all the world cries “crucify them” we should stand with the antique Europeans, for they taught us, by their example, what moral beauty is. It consists of fidelity to the Cross of Christ through fidelity to His people. When the Christ story is internalized by an entire people, a miracle of grace occurs. A world languishing in the darkness of paganism sees a great light. Deny those ancient Europeans, cover their culture with calumny and hatred, and you extinguish the light. Burke, who saw with blinding sight, warned us what would happen if we traded the traditions and people of old Europe for the utopian pretensions of a new utopian Europe ruled over by hard-hearted liberal theorists.

But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophisters, economists, and calculators, has succeeded; and the glory of Europe is extinguished for ever. Never, never more shall we behold that generous loyalty to rank and sex, that proud submission, that dignified obedience, that subordination of the heart, which kept alive, even in servitude itself, the spirit of an exalted freedom. The unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations, the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, is gone! It is gone, that sensibility of principle, that charity of honor, which felt a stain like a wound, which inspired courage whilst it mitigated ferocity, which ennobled whatever it touched, and under which vice itself lost half its evil, by losing all its grossness.

I’m glad Burke went on to expound on the nature of chivalry by linking it with “that charity of honor.” By doing so he tells us that true chivalry is something much greater than knights and battles and courtly manners. True chivalry is of the heart: it consists of “that charity of honor.” What an apt description of what makes the European unique. If we put it in the context of a Charlie Brown story, it would play something like this:

Charlie Brown: “Isn’t there anyone who can tell me what a European stands for?”

Linus: “I can, Charlie Brown. ‘That charity of honor…’ That’s what a European stands for, Charlie Brown.”

It has been the task of the liberal to set down the old European culture, the charity of honor culture, as backward and hate-filled; backward because the antique Europeans believed in Christ, and hate-filled because the antique Europeans did not believe in the inherent sanctity of the black man. And beginning with the French Revolution, the European liberals have justified all their bloodlettings under the cover of moving mankind forward to utopia. Of course, we never quite get there, because there are always South African apartheidists, segregationist Southern whites, imperialist Englishmen, and right-wing fringe groups who impede the building of utopia. When the last racist white is eliminated, utopia will be ushered in, and we can all dance around the throne of the noble black savage. But wait. I see no white people dancing around that throne. The liberals envisioned themselves surrounded by admiring darkies, thanking them for eliminating all the white racists from the face of the earth. The liberals are mistaken. The noble black savages do not make such distinctions. All whites, be they liberal or not, are to be consigned to the stew pots.

A white man should reject the new kingdom of Liberaldom, because of that charity of honor. Liberaldom was built by the devil and his minions. How can a European have anything to do with it? The pragmatic Europeans, those Europeans who are betwixt and between Liberaldom and Christendom, are trying to survive as part of Liberaldom. But this is not possible. Liberaldom is built on a universalist lie. There is no such thing as a multi-racial people or a multi-religious culture. A man must have one people or no people, he must have one God or no God. The liberal is a man who hates his people and his God, so he turns to the stranger and the stranger’s god, or else he makes a god of the stranger. It may be that the liberal had an unhappy family situation growing up or that at a later period of his life he was denied some job he knew he deserved, but all such family and employment difficulties are not the cause of the liberal’s betrayal of his people and his God. The fault lies in the liberal’s deficiency in the region of his heart. His extreme egotism, his love for his own mind-forged abstract world ruled by his gigantic unappreciated brain, has caused him to banish the love of the pure and noble from his heart so that he can love and adore himself. This is the key to the liberals’ worship of the negro and their hatred of the white. They never have to acknowledge their betters if they demonize the antique Europeans of the past and banish, from their utopia, all present day Europeans who desire to maintain a link to old Europe. In the liberals’ mind the negro is the perfect god. He will be grateful and permit his white subjects to indulge themselves with wine and cheese parties ad nauseum. An academic of my acquaintance (not a friend) hosts an annual wine and cheese party, which is attended by one black couple who are petted and pampered by all the liberal academics in attendance. That, in a nutshell, is the sum total of the liberals’ vision of paradise. Their gods love them and appreciate their sacrifices and reciprocate by blessing them with their presence at those great wine and cheese parties of Liberaldom. One is reminded of Karl Barth’s remark about Feuerbach:  “We have heard Feuerbach speak and we have heard something disgustingly, nauseatingly trivial.” So it is with Feuerbach’s modern day counterparts, the negro-worshipping liberals.

The disgustingly, nauseatingly, trivial fantasies of the liberals would be something to laugh at if they were just the fantasies of a few beatniks in a 1950’s coffee shop, but those utopian fantasies, spawned by Rousseau and his white-hating ilk, have been institutionalized throughout the European world. And they are maintained with the blood of the white man. The colored gods do not know mercy; they only know sacrifice, so the liberals must keep feeding their black gods with more and more white victims. The seemingly endless cycle of white sacrifice will end when men with that charity of honor decide to put an end to it.

The state religion of Liberaldom is negro-worship. We did not come to that state of affairs by accident. Year after painstaking year, the liberals built up their poetic defense of a racially mixed, sexually promiscuous, guilt free utopia, facilitated by scientific advances and presided over by the negro gods. In movie and in print, all moral values stemming from Christian Europe were depicted as retrograde, unscientific, and racist. All values stemming from the new Jacobin faith of liberals were depicted as more humane, more advanced, and infinitely more godly, because godliness in Liberaldom is determined by the intensity of a man’s and a nation’s devotion to the negro.

The idea of moral evolution and the new racial and sexual ethos that goes with it has enthralled the European people for the past century. The pathetic, blood-thirsty fantasies of a few sick intellectuals were institutionalized in France and gradually became the accepted dogma of the Western world. Is this the promised end? Is this what Alfred, Charles Martel, and their everyman counterparts fought to preserve? Let one example suffice for what has been a consistent avalanche of propaganda spewed forth by the enemies of the light: In a movie called Time Limit, made in 1957, the sensitive hero of the movie, who is guilty of treason by the old standards of treason, but not guilty by the new standards of liberal morality, says; “Why is a man only allowed to be loyal to one family, one country, and one religion? Why can’t he be loyal to all families, all countries, and all religions?” Why indeed? Doesn’t that sound very moral and refined? Such an apologia is the basis of the liberals’ poetic. They are the humane ones, they are the godly ones, and the antique Europeans are the inhumane and ungodly ones who would try to stop the moral progression of mankind. But how can a denial of our family, our racial nation, and our God, be a moral progression?

The liberals have successfully implemented their new society in which the negro is ensconced at the top of the pantheon of liberal gods. However, his place there is only guaranteed so long as the poetic of the liberals remains unchallenged. The “Christian” catechisms and theological treatises have certainly proved no match for the liberal juggernaut. But didn’t Christian Europe have a poetic that made liberalism seem like the thing it was, an ugly patch of weeds in a beautiful garden? Why did Christian Europeans voluntarily give up on the great romance? Is the Christ story a great dramatic poem or is it a theological  treatise? Was Christ the Messiah who transformed human hearts with the passion of His heart, or was he a wise Socratic teacher, a professor of morals and ethics? The poetic of mankind’s forward march to racial and sexual Babylon built and maintains Liberaldom. The poetic of Christ crucified, Christ risen as seen through the eyes and felt in the hearts of the European people will bring Liberaldom down. +