Solitude

Below, my comments of the ten threads about Nietzsche’s
prologue to Thus Spoke Zarathustra in a single entry:


1

Visitors will be surprised to learn that a Spanish edition has more detailed endnotes than the academic English translation of Nietzsche’s magnum opus.

This is because Spaniards are fed up of Catholicism. North Americans have a few centuries experimenting with Christianity. Spain has more than a millennium and a half, and our parents’ religion is on its last dying breaths there.

Andrés Sánchez-Pascual’s scholarly translation of Nietzsche’s books since the early 1970s became so popular that over the decades he has received hundreds of letters from his Spanish-speaking readers. The book’s edition of Así Habló Zaratustra that I purchased this month for example (I lost the old copies that I used to read sporadically in the 1970s and 80s) is its twentieth edition.

So fed up of Catholicism are Spain’s thinking classes that, again, the copies I bought of Karlheinz Deschner’s Kriminalgeschichte des Christentums which introduction appears in my compilation The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour, were translated to Spanish for an audience unexpectedly avid of this sort of extraordinarily scholarly material (Deschner’s maximum opus has yet to be translated to English).

Another example. Manu Rodríguez, who has had a place of high honor in this site and in The Fair Race, is also an avid reader of Sánchez-Pascual’s translations of Nietzsche. Thanks to his revaluation of Christian values, Rodríguez overcame his original prejudice against National Socialism in his later posts of La Respuesta de Europa. With the exception of non-Christian geniuses like Revilo Oliver and William Pierce, I have not seen such a metamorphosis of the mind in most of the English-speaking racialists.

2

“Could it be possible! This old saint in his woods has not yet heard the news that God is dead!

This is one of the most quoted passages of Nietzsche’s literature. I abandoned theism long ago. Presently I don’t believe in the existence of a personal god, let alone in the existence of the Jewish god (which would be absolutely dead in the heart of any fanatic of the 14 words if the white nationalist “movement” was not all bluff). That doesn’t mean that I’m an atheist, as Hegel and other philosophers of Classic German Idealism developed a new understanding of God: panentheistic views that I am not prepared to dismiss.

The theological issues of Zarathustra’s encounter with the old hermit aside, I’d rather say something about the soliloquy in the previous post of this fictional character, something related to the very meaning of this blogsite.

The darkest hour is just before the dawn. In the endnotes about the opening soliloquy in Nietzsche’s book, Andrés Sánchez-Pascual interpreted the term Untergehen as follows: “By sinking into his decline, like the sun, Zarathustra moves to the other side. ‘Passing to the other side’ means surpassing oneself and becoming the Overman.”

This is what nationalists have failed to do, and was the message of the last pages of my compilation The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour: white nationalism as a handy rock at the middle of a river, not as the promised land itself which is beyond the rapid waters.

That was my metaphor.

As to Nietzsche’s metaphor, we could say that today’s whites, including Christian and libertarian white nationalists, have yet to “sink themselves into their sunsets.” Some force may be with them but they’re not overmen yet; they have not surpassed themselves as Hitler’s SS men did (always keep in mind my “Where are the Syssitias?”).

The purpose of this blogsite is to prepare a few metamorphosing men, those in the process of “passing to the other side” (Übergang) from the soul’s darkest night into the coming dawn of the fair race.

3

I don’t claim to have reread the Zarathustra since my adolescent infatuation with Nietzsche. But these are surely the words that made a very powerful impression in my mind since my first reading:

“I teach you the Overman. Human being is something that must be overcome. What have you done to overcome him?

What is the ape to a human? A laughing stock or a painful embarrassment. And that is precisely what the human shall be to the Overman: a laughing stock or a painful embarrassment.

You have made your way from worm to human, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now a human is still more ape than any ape.

Behold, I teach you the Overman!

The Overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the Overman shall be the meaning of the earth!”

The passage “…and you want to be the ebb of this great flood and would even rather go back to animals than overcome humans?” nails perfectly contemporary whites.

This is exactly what they are doing to themselves—white nationalists included, so reluctant to fight (or preparing to fight by saving precious metals before the dollar crashes). As Jack Frost has asked the clueless, feminized males of The Occidental Observer more than once, “Where’s the resistance?” to the anti-white, exterminationist System. Where are the cells for would-be soldiers that treasure William Pierce’s three books as their New Tablets?

I see none of it. And many Jew-wise nationalists are themselves etnosuicidal because they simply ignore that Christianity inverted healthy values—negative values that they themselves subscribe! Cowardice similar to this in the 19th century explains why Nietzsche’s Zarathustra gives the biblical verse an antithetical sense from the original.

4

Now Zarathustra looked at the people and he was amazed. Then he spoke thus: “Mankind is a rope fastened between animal and Overman – a rope over an abyss. What is great about human beings is that they are a bridge and not a purpose: what is lovable about human beings is that they are a crossing over and a going under.”

Again, this brings in mind my metaphor of the bridge. This is what I wrote in the final essay of The Fair Race: “White nationalism is only a stone at the middle of the rapid-flowing waters of a dangerous river; an over-the-water large stone that can help us in our endeavor to jump to the other side. I myself used that stone during my crossing from Christianity and Liberalism to National Socialism. In fact, I could even write down such a spiritual odyssey in a text that might be titled ‘From St Francis to Himmler’.” But no American white nationalist today is prepared to wear a T-shirt of Herr Himmler, not even in the privacy of their homes.

“I love the great despisers, because they are the great venerators and arrows of longing for the other shore. I love those who do not first seek behind the stars for a reason to go under and be a sacrifice, who instead sacrifice themselves for the earth, so that the earth may one day become the Overman’s. I love the one who lives in order to know, and who wants to know so that one day the Overman may live. And so he wants his going under.” [sinking in his sunset according to Sánchez-Pascual]

This cannot contrast more with today’s white nationalists, so reluctant to sacrifice themselves as Rockwell did. They want it both ways: enjoy their homely comfort zones and try to “save” the race from the ongoing extermination.

5

In Ecce Homo Nietzsche wrote:

“In this sense Zarathustra first calls the good ‘the last men’… He finds them the most harmful kind of man, because they secure their existence at the expense of truth just as they do at the expense of the future.”

Do “the good” men sound like contemporary whites overwhelmed with guilt? But white nationalists are the Overman’s “good” men too. Think for example of the voices from those self-righteous, Christian and atheist nationalists who recently called a lone wolf “an evil sociopath” in Dixie, basically subscribing the meme “black lives matter.”

White- or Southern nationalism is phony, was phony and will be phony until societal collapse forces the survivors to grow a hairy pair. This is Pierce’s Diaries: “His forehead was then marked with an indelible dye, and he was turned out and could be readmitted permanently only by bringing back the head of a freshly killed Black or other non-White.”

6

Just for the record, about 150,000 copies of a specially durable wartime Zarathustra were distributed to the troops during the First World War.

7

“A nice catch of fish Zarathustra has today! No human being did he catch, but a corpse instead!” looks like me trying to convey Nietzsche’s message to a dead race!

8

“I want to teach humans the meaning of their being, which is the Overman, the lightning from the dark cloud ‘human being’.”

For some unfathomable causes, this sentence from the previous section, Prologue §7, reminded me my identification with the art of the pre-Raphaelites and Maxfield Parrish (cf. my Facebook page). One of the inner realities that distances me from white nationalists is that they don’t seem to love this 14-words art (“That the beauty of…”) as much as I do.

9

“It dawned on me: I need companions, and living ones – not dead companions and corpses that I carry with me wherever I want.”

Just what happened to me during my experience in counter-jihad: after these guys didn’t want to hear about the Jewish problem it was like I had to get rid of their corpses—dead companions. But it also happened to me in white nationalism! After these guys didn’t want to hear about the Christian problem it was like I had to get rid of their corpses.

“It dawned on me: let Zarathustra speak not to the people, but instead to companions!”

Pierce did something similar after the catastrophe of Rockwell’s murder: instead of speaking to the masses he predicated to a smaller group of companions.

“Look at the good and the just! Whom do they hate most? The one who breaks their tablets of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker – but he is the creative one.”

Hitler was the creative one. Read his table talks.

“Companions the creative one seeks and not corpses, nor herds and believers. Fellow creators the creative one seeks, who will write new values on new tablets.”

Less than a handful visitors of this blog share the moral grammar on my New Tablets…

“Fellow creators seeks Zarathustra, fellow harvesters and fellow celebrators Zarathustra seeks: what need does he have of herds and shepherds and corpses!”

…but still no one wants to become a priest of the 14 words in a latter-day “Syssitia” (like the one Rockwell had).

“I do not want to even speak again with the people – for the last time have I spoken to a dead person.”

Occasionally I still comment at The Occidental Observer but even that has to end—with the exception of Jack Frost, the commentariat and even the authors are clueless that Christian axiology enabled the Jewish problem and the Negro problem and the Mestizo problem and even the more recent empowerment of Asia.

“I shall join the creators, the harvesters, the celebrators: I shall show them the rainbow and all the steps to the Overman.”

Hitler and Pierce showed this rainbow but who among us really follows their revaluated axiology? Most white nationalists follow the Old Tablets; atheist nationalists share also the Christian moral grammar and even the neonazis have not really broken the Old Tablets.

“I want to go to my goal, and I go my own way; over the hesitating and dawdling I shall leap. Thus let my going be their going under!”

This describes me…

10

And so Nietzsche’s literary prologue ends. Below, some snippets from the Cambridge introduction by Robert B. Pippin:

Zarathustra leaves his cave to revisit the human world because he wants both to prophesy and help hasten the advent of something like a new “attempt” on the part of mankind, a post “beyond” or “over the human” (Übermensch) aspiration. Such a goal would be free of the psychological dimensions that have led the human type into a state of some crisis (made worse by the fact that most do not think a crisis has occurred or that any new attempt is necessary).

The problem, then, that Zarathustra must address, the problem of “nihilism,” is a kind of collective failure of desire…

Nietzsche clearly thinks we cannot understand such a possibility, much less be both shamed and inspired by it, except by a literary and so “living” treatment of such an existential possibility. And Nietzsche clearly thinks he has such a chance, in the current historical context of crisis, collapse, boredom, and confusion, a chance of shaming and cajoling us away from commitments that will condemn us to a “last man” or “pale atheist” sort of existence, and of inspiring a new desire, a new “tension” of the spirit…

As noted, the problem Zarathustra confronts seems to be a failure of desire; nobody wants what he is offering, and they seem to want very little other than a rather bovine version of happiness. It is that sort of failure that proves particularly difficult to address, and that cannot be corrected by thinking up a “better argument” against such a failure.

The events that are narrated are also clearly tied to the question of what it means for Zarathustra to have a teaching, to try to impart it to an audience suffering in this unusual way, suffering from complacency or dead desire. Only at the very beginning, in the Prologue, does he try to “lecture publicly,” one might say, and this is a pretty unambiguous failure.

The reminder here of the Prologue appears to indicate that Zarathustra himself had portrayed his own teaching in a comically inadequate way, preaching to the multitudes as if people could simply begin to overcome themselves by some revolutionary act of will…

He had shifted from market place preaching to conversations with disciples in Part I, and at the end of that Part I he decides to forgo even that and to go back to his cave alone.

rosa_s_pak

Zarathustra’s prologue, 9

 
Thus_Spoke_Zarathustra
Revilo Oliver’s texts on Aryan ethnosuicide and the need to create a religion of hate have moved me to translate some explanatory notes of Thus Spoke Zarathustra at the bottom of this entry (see also my first post in the comments section).
 
 

9

Long Zarathustra slept, and not only the dawn passed over his face but the morning as well. At last, however, he opened his eyes: amazed Zarathustra looked into the woods and the silence, amazed he looked into himself. Then he stood up quickly, like a seafarer who all at once sees land, and he rejoiced, for he saw a new truth.[1] And thus he spoke to his heart:

“It dawned on me: I need companions, and living ones – not dead companions and corpses that I carry with me wherever I want.

Instead I need living companions who follow me because they want to follow themselves – wherever I want.

It dawned on me: let Zarathustra speak not to the people, but instead to companions! Zarathustra should not become the shepherd and dog of a herd!

To lure many away from the herd – for that I came. The people and herd shall be angry with me: Zarathustra wants to be called a robber by shepherds.

Shepherds I say, but they call themselves the good and the just. Shepherds I say: but they call themselves the faithful of the true faith.

Look at the good and the just! Whom do they hate most? The one who breaks their tablets of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker[2] – but he is the creative one.

Look at the faithful of all faiths! Whom do they hate most? The one who breaks their tablets of values, the breaker, the lawbreaker – but he is the creative one.

Companions the creative one seeks and not corpses, nor herds and believers. Fellow creators the creative one seeks, who will write new values on new tablets.

Companions the creative one seeks, and fellow harvesters; for to him everything stands ready for harvest.[3] But he lacks the hundred scythes, and so he plucks out spikes and is angry.

Companions the creative one seeks, and those who know how to whet their scythes. They shall be called annihilators and despisers of good and evil. But they are the harvesters and the celebrators. Fellow creators seeks Zarathustra, fellow harvesters and fellow celebrators Zarathustra seeks: what need does he have of herds and shepherds and corpses!

And you, my first companion, take care! I buried you well in your tree, I concealed you well from the wolves.

But I am leaving you, the time is up. Between dawn and dawn a new truth came to me.

I shall not be a shepherd, nor a gravedigger. I do not want to even speak again with the people – for the last time have I spoken to a dead person.

I shall join the creators, the harvesters, the celebrators: I shall show them the rainbow and all the steps to the Overman.

I shall sing my song to lonesome and twosome hermits[4], and for him who still has ears for the unheard of, I shall make his heart heavy with my happiness.

I want to go to my goal, and I go my own way; over the hesitating and dawdling I shall leap. Thus let my going be their going under!”

 

______________________

The above German-English translation by Adrian del Caro is taken from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Cambridge University Press, 2006). This Cambridge edition lacks the more detailed notes by Andrés Sánchez-Pascual in Así Habló Zaratustra (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 2014), translated below.

Notes:

[1] In the fourth part, §1, “On the Higher Man,” Zarathustra would remember this “new truth.”

[2] Pun of the German words Brecher (destroyer, breaker) and Verbrecher (offender, criminal). Moses also breaks the tablets; see Exodus 32,19: “And it came to pass, as soon as he came nigh unto the camp, that he saw the calf, and the dancing: and Moses’ anger waxed hot, and he cast the tables out of his hands, and brake them beneath the mount.” In this work Zarathustra uses numerous times this opposition.

[3] A reminiscence of the Gospel of Matthew 9:37: “The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few.”

[4] Play of German words Einsiedler (hermits) and Zweisiedler (the latter term created by Nietzsche refers to marriage, that is, the “solitude of two in company”).

Zarathustra’s prologue, 4

 
Thus_Spoke_Zarathustra
Revilo Oliver’s texts on Aryan ethnosuicide and the need to create a religion of hate have moved me to translate some explanatory notes of Thus Spoke Zarathustra at the bottom of this entry (see also my first post in the comments section).
 
 

4

Now Zarathustra looked at the people and he was amazed. Then he spoke thus:

“Mankind is a rope fastened between animal and Overman – a rope over an abyss.

A dangerous crossing, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking back, a dangerous shuddering and standing still.

What is great about human beings is that they are a bridge and not a purpose: what is lovable about human beings is that they are a crossing over and a going under.[1]

I love those who do not know how to live unless by going under, for they are the ones who cross over.

I love the great despisers, because they are the great venerators and arrows of longing for the other shore.

I love those who do not first seek behind the stars for a reason to go under and be a sacrifice, who instead sacrifice themselves for the earth, so that the earth may one day become the Overman’s.

I love the one who lives in order to know, and who wants to know so that one day the Overman may live. And so he wants his going under.

I love the one who works and invents in order to build a house for the Overman and to prepare earth, animals and plants for him: for thus he wants his going under.

I love the one who loves his virtue: for virtue is the will to going under and an arrow of longing.

I love the one who does not hold back a single drop of spirit for himself, but wants instead to be entirely the spirit of his virtue: thus he strides as spirit over the bridge.

I love the one who makes of his virtue his desire and his doom: thus for the sake of his virtue he wants to live on and to live no more.

I love the one who does not want to have too many virtues. One virtue is more virtue than two, because it is more of a hook on which his doom may hang.

I love the one whose soul squanders itself, who wants no thanks and gives none back: for he always gives and does not want to preserve himself.[2]

I love the one who is ashamed when the dice fall to his fortune and who then asks: am I a cheater? – For he wants to perish.

I love the one who casts golden words before his deeds and always does even more than he promises: for he wants his going under.

I love the one who justifies people of the future and redeems those of the past: for he wants to perish of those in the present.

I love the one who chastises his god, because he loves his god: for he must perish of the wrath of his god.[3]

I love the one whose soul is deep even when wounded, and who can perish of a small experience: thus he goes gladly over the bridge.

I love the one whose soul is overfull, so that he forgets himself, and all things are in him: thus all things become his going under.

I love the one who is free of spirit and heart: thus his head is only the entrails of his heart, but his heart drives him to his going under.

I love all those who are like heavy drops falling individually from the dark cloud that hangs over humanity: they herald the coming of the lightning, and as heralds they perish.

Behold, I am a herald of the lightning and a heavy drop from the cloud: but this lightning is called Overman. –”

 

______________________

The above German-English translation by Adrian del Caro is taken from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Cambridge University Press, 2006). This Cambridge edition lacks the more detailed notes by Andrés Sánchez-Pascual in Así Habló Zaratustra (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 2014), translated below.

Notes:

[1] See footnote 5. [Note of the Ed.: In this site’s translation: here]

[2] Paraphrase of Luke, 17, 33: “Whosoever shall seek to save his life shall lose it; and whosoever shall lose his life shall preserve it.”

[3] A direct quote inverting its sense of Hebrews 12: 6: “For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth.” See also, in Part Four, “The Awakening.”

Zarathustra’s prologue, 3

 
Thus_Spoke_Zarathustra
Revilo Oliver’s texts on Aryan ethnosuicide and the need to create a religion of hate have moved me to translate some explanatory notes of Thus Spoke Zarathustra at the bottom of this entry (see also my first post in the comments section).
 
 

3

When Zarathustra came into the nearest town lying on the edge of the forest, he found many people gathered in the market place[1] for it had been promised that a tightrope walker would perform. And Zarathustra spoke thus to the people:

I teach you the Overman.[2] Human being is something that must be overcome. What have you done to overcome him?

All creatures so far created something beyond themselves; and you want to be the ebb of this great flood and would even rather go back to animals than overcome humans?

What is the ape to a human? A laughing stock or a painful embarrassment. And that is precisely what the human shall be to the Overman: a laughing stock or a painful embarrassment.[3]

You have made your way from worm to human, and much in you is still worm. Once you were apes, and even now a human is still more ape than any ape.

But whoever is wisest among you is also just a conflict and a cross between plant and ghost. But do I implore you to become ghosts or plants?

Behold, I teach you the Overman!

The Overman is the meaning of the earth. Let your will say: the Overman shall be the meaning of the earth!

I beseech you, my brothers, remain faithful to the earth and do not believe those who speak to you of extraterrestrial hopes! They are mixers of poisons whether they know it or not.

They are despisers of life, dying off and self-poisoned, of whom the earth is weary: so let them fade away!

Once the sacrilege against God was the greatest sacrilege, but God died, and then all these desecrators died. Now to desecrate the earth is the most terrible thing, and to esteem the bowels of the unfathomable higher than the meaning of the earth!

Once the soul gazed contemptuously at the body, and then such contempt was the highest thing: it wanted the body gaunt, ghastly, starved. Thus it intended to escape the body and the earth.

Oh this soul was gaunt, ghastly and starved, and cruelty was the lust of this soul!

But you, too, my brothers, tell me: what does your body proclaim about your soul? Is your soul not poverty and filth and a pitiful contentment?

Truly, mankind is a polluted stream. One has to be a sea to take in a polluted stream without becoming unclean.

Behold, I teach you the Overman: he is this sea, in him your great contempt can go under.

What is the greatest thing that you can experience? It is the hour of your great contempt. The hour in which even your happiness turns to nausea and likewise your reason and your virtue.

The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my happiness? It is poverty and filth, and a pitiful contentment. But my happiness ought to justify existence itself!’

The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my reason? Does it crave knowledge like the lion its food? It is poverty and filth and a pitiful contentment!’

The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my virtue? It has not yet made me rage. How weary I am of my good and my evil! That is all poverty and filth and a pitiful contentment!’

The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my justice? I do not see that I am ember and coal. But the just person is ember and coal!’

The hour in which you say: ‘What matters my pity? Is pity not the cross on which he is nailed who loves humans? But my pity is no crucifixion.’

Have you yet spoken thus? Have you yet cried out thus? Oh that I might have heard you cry out thus!

Not your sin – your modesty cries out to high heaven, your stinginess even in sinning cries out to high heaven![4]

Where is the lightning that would lick you with its tongue? Where is the madness with which you should be inoculated?

Behold, I teach you the Overman: he is this lightning, he is this madness! –”

When Zarathustra had spoken thus someone from the crowd cried out:

“We have heard enough already about the tightrope walker, now let us see him too!” And all the people laughed at Zarathustra. But the tightrope walker, believing that these words concerned him, got down to his work.

 

______________________

The above German-English translation by Adrian del Caro is taken from Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Cambridge University Press, 2006). This Cambridge edition lacks the more detailed notes by Andrés Sánchez-Pascual in Así Habló Zaratustra (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 2014), translated below.

Notes:

[1] Markt is the word used by Nietzsche, here translated literally, market. It does not refer only to the place of purchase and sale of goods but, in general, to a spacious place where people meet, the public square. Even today the central square of many German cities is called Marktplatz.

[2] On the “Overman,” a term that has led to many misunderstandings, says Nietzsche himself in Ecce homo: “The word ‘Overman’ as the designation for a type of the highest successfulness as opposed to ‘modern’ men, to ‘good’ men, to Christians and other nihilists—a word that in the mouth of a Zarathustra, the annihilation of morality, becomes a very thought-provoking word—has been understood almost everywhere with complete innocence in the sense of those values whose antithesis the figure of Zarathustra was meant to represent: that is to say, as the ‘idealistic’ type of a higher kind of man, half-‘saint,’ half-‘genius’.”

[3] An echo of fragments 82 and 83 of Heraclitus: “The most beautiful ape is ugly compared to man.” “The wisest man is an ape compared to god.”

[4] “Crying to Heaven” is a biblical expression. See Genesis, 4, 10: “And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground” (words of Yahweh to Cain). As he almost always does with these biblical “quotes,” Zarathustra gives it an antithetical sense from that in the original.

This Time, 5

rockwell

A passage from This Time the World
by George Lincoln Rockwell

This is only an infinitesimally tiny bit of the huge mass of evidence that the “Russian” revolution was not Russian at all, but Jewish. The documents include the Overman Report to the U.S. Senate, 1919, Senate Document 88, which shows that of the 388 members of the first Soviet Government, sitting in the Old Smolny Institute in Petrograd, 371 were Jews and 265 of these Jews were from the lower East Side of New York City!

In March 1918, both Russia and Germany were in the advanced throes of Bolshevik revolution. Lenin was on his way in a sealed train to Russia, with over 417 exiled Jewish Marxists, to set up the first Bolshevik government in the world. The Jewish revolutionaries were at work in all the other chaos-ridden European countries, with Bela Kun (Cohen) seizing Hungary for the Jew-Communists and Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht, both Jews, leading the Bolshevik uprising in Germany.

Meanwhile, an unknown German corporal lay in hospital in Pasewalk, outside of Berlin, his eyes all but burned out by a gas attack. He writes movingly in Mein Kampf of the hot tears which poured down his face when a gang of deserters from the Navy rushed in proclaiming the Red revolution, which forced Germany to sue for an armistice. He writes even more movingly of his disgust and helpless rage when he learned that the deserters were not combat fighters from the front lines, where he himself had won his Iron Cross of valor, but were Jews from the rear echelons!

Five thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean, in Bloomington, Illinois, Claire Schade Rockwell entered the Kelso Hospital at this same time to give birth to her first child, on the night of March 9, 1918. The greatest marathon race of human history was launched…

Adolf Hitler started the year I was born, the year that Marxism took Russia. He made a miraculous sprint into history, almost overtook the Reds, but exhausted himself in the agony of his superhuman exertion. His baton seemed to fall, to be crushed into the earth by the ferocity of the other side. It has lain buried now for fifteen years. All over the world, it appears to be crucified. But now, at last, it has been seized up by new hands! It will be carried to triumph as inevitably as the laws of Nature decree the eventual victory of the strongest and best…

I have made it my mission in life, above all things, to carry that baton to victory! No matter how long it takes, how painful it may be, or how an eternally blind world scorns and hates it, Adolf Hitler’s noble vision of racial idealism will yet master today’s chaos and bring order, decency and the innocent fun and laughter of my father’s day…

This Time, 1

rockwell

A passage from This Time the World
by George Lincoln Rockwell

 

Dedication to: Adolf Hitler

Like spiritual giants before you—you were cursed and driven to death by spiritual pygmies for daring to stand up for a new and vital truth. Your heroic people lie silent, bound in golden chains and torn between the two criminal gangs of Bolsheviks and Zionists.

I helped to bomb and burn millions of your brave young men. Your blue-eyed young mothers were raped and murdered by Soviet and Negro savages. The millions of little blond boys and girls you loved so well lie moldering in acres of devastation and ruin. Millions of my fellow Americans, British, French and others of our racial comrades, all as ignorant as I once was, were slaughtered and maimed fighting for these same two filthy gangs of Zionists and Bolsheviks.

The Weltfeind cringes like the Devil at the sign of the cross. Your mighty spirit has inspired millions with the Holy Truth. From all over the earth, faintly at first, comes the sound of marching boots—louder and louder they grow! Listen! They are singing!

Die Fahne Hoch! Die Reihen fest geschlossen!

Out of the mud and slime of lies, your holy red, white and black Swastika has been flung back into the skies in Virginia, United States of America, and we pledge you our lives, Adolf Hitler, that we shall not flag or fail until we have utterly destroyed the forces of Marxism and darkness.

HEIL HITLER!

“It is necessary that I should die for my people; but my spirit will rise from the grave and the world will know that I was right.”

Uncle Adolf’s table talk, 134

the-real-hitler

 

20th May 1942, midday

National Socialism not for export—Effects of National Socialist education—The new Man—The cement of the Great German Reich.

I am firmly opposed to any attempt to export National Socialism. If other countries are determined to preserve their democratic systems and thus rush to their ruin, so much the better for us. And all the more so, because during this same period, thanks to National Socialism, we shall be transforming ourselves, slowly but surely, into the most solid popular community that it is possible to imagine.

The youth of to-day, which in ten years, in twenty years from now will be the personification of the National Socialist idea, will have known no other conception of the world, and they will be the product of an education which will make of them men well-disciplined and sure of themselves.

Basing our view on current experience, we may assume that if our methods of education can be applied for a hundred years, the German people will then have become the most unified bloc that has ever existed in Europe.

Exactly in the same way as the war of 1870-71 was the melting-pot of the old Reich, the battlefields of this war will be the cement which will bind into one indissoluble whole all the races of the Greater German Reich. Not one of them will come into the confederation feeling like a whipped hound, for each and every one of them will come with the pride born of the knowledge that each and every one has shed his blood and played his part in the greatest struggle for freedom in the history of the German race.

This sort of collective harnessing of the efforts of the entire German people cannot but have its influence on the individual participant. He will come to feel that nothing is impossible and, as the young Briton of to-day serves his apprenticeship in India, the young German will learn his lessons, looking round the most easterly territories of the Reich, in Norway, or on some other frontier of our land.

He will realise, too, thanks to his personal experiences, that, although some sort of hierarchy is necessary in the homeland, abroad there must be no differences at all between German and German. To the last man, too, the Germans must have the conviction as a matter of course that the youngest of German apprentices, the most humble of German mechanics, stands closer to him than the most important British Lord.

If only we can succeed in inculcating into the German people, and above all into the German youth, both a fanatical team spirit and a fanatical devotion to the Reich, then the German Reich will once again become the most powerful State in Europe, as it was a thousand years after the collapse of the Roman Empire.

Published in: on July 21, 2015 at 6:17 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Mens arya in corpore arya

A translated passage from
Manu Rodríguez’s latest essay

 
Now we live in chaos, in disorder, in the non-being, in falsehood. We now live death, decay, evil—our death, our decline, our ill. We live in an evil world (impure). Our world (our purity) has been desecrated, ethnically and culturally polluted, disturbed, upset—our order, our cosmos, our good, our truth, our being.

I remind my countrymen that our decline and our downfall began with the Christianization (Judaization) of our peoples. There we lost not only our world, thereby also lost our identity, our truth, our good, and our being.

The world of our ancestors was both a shield and a weapon. It provided to each and every one of its members a spiritual identity. It brought firmness, safety, strength… It also brought the symbolic being (collective and spiritual, psychic if you will).

PindarSo Pindar could say, “Become who you are,” i.e., become a Spartan, a Greek… He did not talk about a hidden individual being which should be revealed by introspection, but “become the one you were educated,” fulfill your upbringing, your instruction (your paideia): what is expected from you. Caught up with your stature; don’t become unworthy of your ancestors; answer to your race, your temper, your lineage.

Christianity introduced execrable principles: personal salvation, the personal god, altruism, pacifism, universal brotherhood… All these concepts were (and are) the germ of dissolution of the white peoples (and of any ancestral people). They separate, isolate individuals from their own people, their own traditions, their own social personality. They disintegrate the peoples, disintegrate them; destroy ancient ethnic traditions.

Universal ideologies create societies of racially and culturally heterogeneous (the uprooted masses) elements, but never a people. A people require ethnic and cultural homogeneity (and is the work of millennia).

Individualism is what is preached and sold in exchange for life, as there is no destiny; no future for those societies based on individualism.

Personal salvation on earth or in heaven is the recurring theme of universal ideologies, whether religious (Christianity, Buddhism) or political (liberal democracy).

A society based on individual principles (spiritual, political, economic) is a contradictory society, in conflict with itself. The union sought is false, ghostly. So, no matter how those societies can last, they carry within themselves the seeds of their own destruction, of their own impossibility.

The Jewish intelligentsia spreads, among the peoples, universal trans-ethnic creeds while jealously guarding its own ethnic and cultural heritage. Such is its preferred domain strategy. Our idea is to establish an organization or identitarian group in Europe, a European-wide “identitarian movement.”

We absolutely accept the Nazi legacy. Not to follow it to the letter, of course. The circumstances are different. But we should consider the affirmation of Nazism as an indispensable prerequisite, and as one of our most fundamental identity markers, for many reasons. We must honor the first Aryan nation (the men and women, their deeds, their accomplishments, their tragic story…); recapture her spirit, rescuing her memory, regain her honor.

Whoever denies or disowns Nazism is not worthy of belonging to the future Aryan nation.

On destiny

rockwell

A passage from White Power
by George Lincoln Rockwell

Unless the White Race can find the leadership, the wisdom, and the will once again to police the world, the planet will continue in the grip of increasing chaos and terror, until the jungle reclaims the survivors hiding in caves and holes like frightened beasts. Only a united White Race, supremely conscious of its natural destiny, a destiny bequeathed it in the gift of superior birth, as a master race, a noble race able to create the wonders of Western Cultures—only such a united race can muster the will and the strength to restore order to a world in the process of suicide and disintegration. And yet, faced by the most hideous threat of all times, outnumbered ten to one, we find ourselves disorganized, demoralized, wallowing in defeatism, crawling at the feet of our own destroyers, and losing strength every moment. It is easy to fall prey to despair.

But there is another element in this cosmic crap game which must be taken into account if we are to make a correct judgment about the survival of our people and culture is the fact of the Jewish-Negroid-Mongoloid threat. That element is timing—or, if you will, destiny. The mighty White Race is brainwashed, filled with suicidal self-hatred, crazy about its deadly enemies, trivialized, doped up on drugs and lies, and apparently rushing headlong toward oblivion. But the strength of the blood is still there, as we have shown in every war where the Jews have “turned us loose”.

Whenever as in World War II, the Jews wish us to be our ancient, ferocious, mighty selves, able to smash anything in our way: whenever they allow Natural Law to return to us, even in a temporary and wrong way, our people show themselves still heroes and fighters, not decadent weaklings, or in any way like the people of a dying culture.

The rumors of our death, to quote Mark Twain, are “greatly exaggerated”. They are appearances only. Let only a strong leader appear, let our people once see the real nature of their Jewish and colored “friends” (as is already beginning to happen), and the blood of our Viking ancestors will well up in a berserker rage which will sweep away the miasma of Jewish and colored poison gas from our lives as a lion sends a pack of vultures flapping with one lunge.

It is not yet our “time” to die. Destiny has a way of doing her will in spite of all human efforts to foil her, both when she is creating and when she is destroying.

Destiny brought forth the greatness of Rome when it was time. Arid, when it was time, she cast it aside and made a way for the mightier Barbarians, sweeping down from the cool northern forests.

Destiny brought forth the British Empire, when it was time. And, after centuries of rule, Destiny withdrew her blessing and the British Empire died—when it was time.

Destiny is even now, in America, conceiving the new imperium of our time, the White Imperium—the unification of the White Race and its conscious racial mastery of the Globe.

In spite of all signs of death and disease, deep within the vitals of our race is growing the embryo of that unity and that White Imperium which will last for its thousands of years, and destroy all which stands in its way.

On “lost” kids

rockwell

A passage from White Power
by George Lincoln Rockwell

The guy at the door of Nazi Headquarters was the living embodiment of the national suicide I have set forth in chapter 1. He seemed young. But you couldn’t be sure, because he was wearing a matted red beard. He wasn’t wearing clothes just a raggedy blanket and sandals. “Shades” (sun glasses) covered his eyes. Unkempt hair covered much of the rest of his face. Our duty officer, sharply uniformed in well-pressed khakis, jump boots and side arm just stood there looking, bug-eyed in amazement. The apparition, his head sort of bobbing and rolling to some rhythm while he snapped his fingers, looked the Duty Officer up and down.

“What’s with you Nazi cats?” he said. The Duty Officer stared.

“Say, man, will that thing shoot?” the man-in-the-blanket tried again, pointing a finger with inch-long dirty nails at the Duty Officer’s .45.

“Certainly” replied the Duty Officer, finally getting over his first shock. “What can we do for you?”

“I want to join, man. Like I wanna be a Nazi! Wanna gas me a Jew! I wanna sign up! Where’s this Rockwell cat?”

I was in a back room, printing. (I had to do much of it myself back then.) I heard all this going on. Although I didn’t like to let visitors see me covered with printers ink, I couldn’t resist coming out to see what was at the door.

“He wants to join, sir!” the Duty Officer said to me, still flabbergasted. I couldn’t resist talking to this thing from outer space.

I have often found that I learn most, not from books and literature, but from people and events themselves. And this guy looked like a whole encyclopedia of everything degenerate. I invited him in. We talked. He couldn’t stay still, but kept moving around the room, seeming to float a few inches above the floor. (I later learned that he was on pills and narcotics.) After an hour or so of talking, he began to change a bit. He appeared unsure of himself in the presence of something he’d never experienced before—men who were sure of themselves and had a purpose.

A look of unbelieving wonder came over his blue eyes, even through the “shades” as I talked to him of what we really were and why we had given up everything of fun in life to fight for our nation and White Race. Little by little, I began to get the story out of him. He was only seventeen years old, and had lived an entire lifetime.

He’d done everything, tried all kicks, and was already bored to death with an empty life. He’d made a mistress out of his art teacher, he’d run a den of degeneracy and debauchery called “Mule’s Pad” where the local beats and wild crowds did anything, including enjoy dope. He’d shot a man, gotten off, and lived as fast and hard as he could until finally, he contemplated suicide in utter despair of finding anything worth doing any more all this at seventeen! Before he committed suicide, he told me, he decided to come to see the Nazi “cats,” figuring it might be one last kick.

What he found, unexpectedly, was what every human being needs to survive this life a purpose—something which gives life more meaning than a constant search for more pleasure and kicks. He actually convinced me he wanted to try to be a Storm trooper! As a matter of policy, whenever I hear that (as I do every day), I do all I can to discourage the applicant. We want no dabblers, but dedicated, fanatical fighters who will stick through hell itself. With this crazy character, I went even further. I made fun of him. I told him he’d never make it, that we’d run him off the first day. He rose to the challenge.

“You name it, and I’ll make it!” he said.

Strangely, I could sense a fiercely burning will behind the words. I told him he couldn’t come up to try life as a Nazi Storm-trooper until he was eighteen. He left, vowing to return in a few months. He did return—without the beatnik get-up. He turned out to be a blonde, young Viking, built for combat.

We poured it to him. There was no place left inside for him to sleep. So he was assigned to a wrecked car out back. It was still winter and cold. But the kid moved into the wrecked car with a couple of blankets. We put him to work cleaning the toilets, and yard. He worked. Spring came, and then a broiling summer. He was still in the wrecked car, eaten alive by mosquitoes.

I tried him on the printing press, and never saw such a bear for work. He was all dried out of booze, off the pills and dope, exercising plenty, and showing every sign of “making it.” He accomplished dozens of dangerous missions against the SNCC, NAACP, Communists and peace creeps. He accompanied me to many a fight—and many a jail.

Within eleven months, faster than almost anybody before or since, this kid became an officer in the Storm troop section, and led more successful operations against the enemy than any single Party Officer, with one possible exception.

An example of the work of this kid was the time the Black agitators were trying to unseat the White Mississippi delegation, and our own blackface “delegation” sent the Black agitators packing back to Mississippi as laughing-stocks. My ex-beatnik managed to race onto the floor of Congress on opening day in blackface, with top hat, loin cloth and cigar, shouting. “I’ze de Mississippi delegation, and ah demands mah seat!”

The young man escaped the vicious circle of despair, boredom and degeneracy of millions of “modern youth” only because he happened upon the spiritual life-preserver of Nazi love of Race and Nation before he sank forever into the putrid slime of modern spiritual syphilis.

There will be many who will say that he could have been saved, perhaps even more effectively by religion. Fifty years ago, yes. But I have had five years of experience seeing these lost kids on college campuses all over America. And I can assure the reader that most of these young people are far too cynical and hardened to be able to open their ears and heart even for a moment to accept a religious approach. Start talking about religion to such hard-case cynics and you drive them further and further away, no matter how hard you try.

It takes a new and shocking approach, a dramatic and powerful approach to have any hope of making an impression on such lost, bitter kids. We have it, and it works.

 

photo-dylann-roof-under-arrestEditor’s note:

White nationalism failed Dylann Roof. He did what he did because he found no foots-on-the-ground options in the websites he visited.

After Rockwell was assassinated in 25 August 1967, no one carried his torch. Presently there are many kids wearing “raggedy blankets and sandals” so to speak, wandering vagabonds because they want to fight the enemy—but unlike Rockwell’s National Socialist gang, self-styled “white nationalists” are utterly disorganized. Half a century after the kid knocked the door of Rockwell’s Nazi Headquarters, internet “nationalists” have no leaders in the real world.

The economic crisis that is hitting Greece will eventually arrive to the US. Alex Linder has been right about Greece’s Golden Dawn. But unlike the neonazi movement of the Balkan peninsula, white nationalists are not organized and the coming financial accident will take them by surprise.

In the next entry we will see how decades ago Rockwell warned us about the utter silliness of trying to make a difference through mere essayism: the feminine ways of today’s WNsts (most of them de facto conservatives).

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