Moaning Less, Doing More

First published in Alternative Right: http://www.alternativeright.com/main/blogs/untimely-observations/moan-less-do-more/

One of the less helpful features of the radical Right is its propensity to spend a great deal of time and effort analysing and complaining abou is wrong with modern culture, and a lot less time actually producing an alternative to this culture. For the most part, the nearest it ever gets to producing said alternative is generating endless suggestions of what needs to be done, without actually doing any of it. Worse still, most of the suggestions are not even actionable in the short to medium term because they involve the creation of vast operations, necessitating large and sustained investment, abundant personnel, established networks, and extensive infrastructure - all this within a community that struggles to raise even measly sums of a few tens of thousands of dollars. Sometimes I wonder if the people making these suggestions are serious about achieving change and do not just seek emotional relief.

Perhaps the tendency to make impractical suggestions stems from the tendency among elitists to think on a macro scale, a trait which I believe results from an inborn desire for order. This would explain the abundance of conspiracy theory buffs within the radical Right: what is a conspiracy theory if not a narrative, an ordered exposition, that efficiently explains a mass of otherwise confusing data and events?

Be that as it may, the fact is that the creation of an alternative culture does not have necessarily to start with a multi-billion-dollar operation, such as a television network; a Hollywood-style film studio; or a film, book, and magazine distribution service, complete with a centillion workers, a googolplex forklifts, and galaxy-sized warehouses. The enemy's control of billions of dollars in assets does not mean that it can only be defeated with billions of dollars. It must be remembered that the enemy did not always control those billions; that it took time for them to get to where they are now, and that their beginnings were small, even penurious. Contrast the awesome and seemingly unassailable dominance of cultural Marxism today with Karl Marx's situation in the 1850s: he had his family surviving on bread and potatoes, pawning clothing and shoes, and begging Engels for handouts.

The creation of an alternative culture is, in fact, simpler than it seems. All it takes is for a painter to paint, a writer to write, a composer to compose - in short, for a creative person to start creating, following his or her own inspiration and using the tools, the time, and the talent he or she already has in his or her possession. Granted, a dissident creator will not win the Turner Prize, be published by Random House, or see his music played on BBC Radio this year, but that is because there is not enough cultural production coming from the radical traditionalist camp yet to support an alternative system of prizes, publishers, and radio stations. Yet, production tends to beget resources, and resources more production, so, with increased cultural production, the aforementioned alternative system would likely in time develop. This is because the general public is mostly apolitical, so they will consume quality art, literature, and music, irrespective of whether its creator's cognitive structures are approved by the system. Similarly, an artist might be political, but, at the end of the day, art is art, and the ordinary consumer of art, unless highly political himself, seeks it for its enjoyment value, not for its politics.

I have already written about music (see here, here, here, and here), so readers of my articles are aware that there is already an abundance of it out there that springs from elitist, hierarchical, traditionalist, ethnically-conscious, European sensibilities, and that pays no tribute whatsoever to the false gods of egalitarianism. This music had small, DIY beginnings, and was initially disseminated by, and among, geographically dispersed fans who corresponded and traded tapes with one another during the 1980s. Eventually, specialised record labels and mail order services sprung up all over the planet, constituting a parallel system of production and distribution that bypassed mainstream channels altogether. It has been possible for many years now for numerous label owners operating in the fringe niches of the music industry to exist economically independent of the politically correct system.

In the age of the internet, when information is much more readily available and can be disseminated and exchanged at the speed of light, there is no good reason why the process that took place in the realm of underground music cannot take place in other realms of creative endeavour.

Consider literature. There is an abundance of writers in the White advocacy movement, and the number is growing every year. Therefore, an obvious and fairly easy place to start in the creation and expansion of an alternative culture is literature, both fiction and non-fiction. Unless one is dealing with a major research project, writing books, for instruction and / or entertainment, demands very little in the way of resources besides a creative brain, writing equipment, and the willingness to invest a bit of time and effort in the pursuit of literary creation. There are already a substantial and growing number of non-fiction monographs dealing with the matters that concern readers of this and similar websites. But why not also write pro-White, elitist, radical traditionalist fiction? Or poetry? Or plays? After all, full-on instruction can lead to burnout, so regular relaxation in the form of quality and stimulating entertainment is part of keeping the synapses healthy and the imagination active.

Even more importantly, fiction and poetry (and in loose, broad ways we could include advertising in this category) are often the catalysts of inspiration. Inspiration, daydreaming and fantasising, are what keep humans motivated a lot of the time, especially in times of adversity.

Some will no doubt want to point out at this juncture that we already have a vast literary canon fitting the abovegiven description. This is true. Yet, a culture cannot rely solely on past glories - otherwise, it is a moribund culture. For a culture to be vital, it must be actively engaged in cultural production, in producing new art, new literature, new music, both popular and refined, that reflects and is relevant to its epoch and those producing it and consuming it - that is innovative and does not limit itself to simply reproducing the obsolete styles of an era that cannot and will never return. Louis Ferdinand Celine, Wyndham Lewis, Jean Raspail are all well and good, but the latter is elderly and the former two are no longer of this world. The same applies to the poets, Ezra Pound and Miguel Serrano.

Please note, however, that by 'new' I do not necessarily mean 'modern'. Despite what the Left would like its victims to believe, the two words are not synonymous.

Probably, future literary classics will emerge from within popular fiction (as modern and old literary classics have), so this is an area that needs as much attention, from both writers and readers, as academic non-fiction. For now, however, examples are scarce. A well-known one is the classic The Camp of the Saints, by Jean Raspail. Another is The Turner Diaries and Hunter, both written pseudonymously by Dr. William Pierce (and strictly no Nobel Prize material, despite the former having sold hundreds of thousands of copies). Less well known are Serpernt's Walk, by Randolph D. Calverhall (the pen-name of a science fiction author, according to rumour); and Utopia X by Scott Wilson. I read them both in 2007. Then there is Hold Back This Day, by Ward Kendall, and Das Reich Artam, by Volkmar Weiss, a German psychologist specialising in human intelligence. The first one seems long out of print (it was reviewed in American Renaissance), while the latter is in German. Perhaps most obscure of all, and also in German, are the novels of Wilhelm Landig, who wrote Götzen gegen Thule: Ein Roman voller Wirklichkeiten, Rebellen für Thule: Das Erbe von Atlantis, and Wolfszeit um Thule; and the more recent, and apparently rather pulpy, Stahlfront series. Landig reputedly coined the idea of the Black Sun, and his group, the völkisch mystic Landig Group, revived the ariosophical mythology of Thule, said to be the polar homeland of the ancient Aryans. And of course (in case someone thinks that I do not practice what I preach) there is my own assault on political correctness and the spineless eunuchs of 'respectable' conservatism, Mister.



Surely, there are more novelists out there.

Surely, there are folk out there willing to publish them.

And surely, there are also painters, commercial illustrators, graphic novelists, filmmakers, designers, and computer games programmers out there willing and able to give full expression to their non-conforming sensibilities, urges, dreams, and aspirations, either pseudonymously or under their own names, as much as there are folk willing to start up businesses that tap on that wealth of talent.

And I have not even touched on outdoor culture: battle re-enactment, Mediaeval festivals, pagan festivals, history- or nature-oriented excursions. Even if these already exist, there can always be more.



I am not advocating that the alternative Right cease applying their scalpels to the corpse of modern Western culture: its dissection and analysis must continue, their fora must remain open dissection wards, and, certainly, the dissecting must continue with unabated ferocity. Furthermore, the murderers of Western culture must be identified and removed from their positions of power, which they seized through cunning and hold without legitimacy or good purpose. But I am saying that the dissecting must be a means to an end, and not an ends in itself; and that the alternative Right must have as clear an idea of what its world will look like if it is successful in its endeavours, of how it will improve people's daily lives, as it has of why the present order must be overthrown. It is imperative that the alternative Right be able to present ordinary folk with attractive glimpses of what it has to offer, of what could be, in a manner that is instant, powerful, emotional, stylish, and aesthetically appealing. Arid scientific texts and masses of facts, while important, will not convince anyone, except scientists who are already open to an alternative set of results - many ordinary folk, even well educated ones, choose the facts that confirm them in their prejudices. A breath-taking film, an absorbing novel, a rousing song, a powerful painting or illustration, even a powerful logo, created today for the White folk of today, can reach and transform much more deeply, and can be much more difficult to argue against, than all the data in the world.

I Have Better Things to Do with My Time

First published in The Occidental Observer: http://www.theoccidentalobserver.net/authors/Kurtagic-Election.html

“One long, sleepy yawn.” That is how I described the latest United Kingdom general election when I approached Kevin MacDonald about writing this article. My complete indifference to the 2010 elections stands in marked contrast to my interest in the one that was held in 1997: that year I stayed up all night watching the results; somehow thinking that the Conservatives were different from Labour, I was worried by the prospect, and finally depressed by the reality, of Labour sweeping into power, so, as the broadcast begun, I had been hopeful of a miraculous, last minute reprieve.

I might have been mistaken about the Conservatives, but I was not deluded by Labour: under the leadership of Tony Blair, the formerly unelectable party of the Left had rebranded itself as “New Labour” and had spent the previous few years feigning the abandonment of their scarier Communistic policies. Except, as I knew all too well, this was entirely cosmetic, and, behind Blair’s smile stood the same old, unreconstructed Marxists, chomping at the bit. I knew that a Labour victory would mean punitive taxation: the phlebotomizing of excellence, promethean creativity, and hard work by the fiscal leeches, who would from then on be on a course of anabolic steroids; and the subsidizing of mediocrity, mean-spirited parasitism, and indolence by a rapacious, invasive, and officious government bureaucracy that was set to grow and grow, uncontrollably, and gorge its voracity on the productive economy. I knew that the predicted landslide Labour victory, moreover, would mean at least a decade, if not fifteen long, sad, miserable years, of demoralizing Marxism — a terrifying prospect for a young man of 26 trying to grow the business he had started up the year before.

As you can see, at the time I was not educated on some of the vital issues of our time, and, although I was never an egalitarian, my outlook was entirely materialistic and self-centered; I paid no attention to immigration, foreign policy, Leftist bias in academia, or the various other factors linked to, or causally associated with, the Death of the West. Foremost in my mind was the memory of François Mitterand’s victory in France’s presidential elections in 1981, and the subsequent fiscal assault on my late uncle’s assets by the “Socialist” government. Because he was a properous entrepreneur and a landed aristocrat, my late uncle was seen as the enemy by Mitterand’s hate-filed cabinet goons, which included four raving Communists. As far as they were concerned, my uncle was a wallet, and his estate a forest of money trees.

Even at the age of 11, I was shocked by the evil in the Communists’ “solidarity tax on wealth”, the “generalized social tax”, and the yearly, comprehensive, every-scrap-of-paper tax and VAT inspections. The Communist rapacity added insult to injury to a man whose estate had already been razed by the partisans in the aftermath of World War II: while occupying the manor in Aunay-en-Bazois, family heirlooms, including 200-year-old wallpaper, 300-year-old oil paintings, 400-year-old furniture, and 500-year-old books of incalculable value were used as timber by these microcephalous, uncultured orangutans, even though they had 500 hectares of woodland literally five meters away from the front door; they also stole clocks, rugs, and anything of value. I first saw the manor in 1977, by which time it had already undergone 25 years of gradual and hard-won restoration — and even then, it was all quite bare (room temperature was up to twenty degrees of frost in Winter). My uncle was a self-made, energetic, and uncompromising anti-modern, with an archaically illiberal, almost Elizabethan outlook and vocabulary, who worked 16-hour days and came from a distinguished background of men who had served their country in the battlefield: his father alone was a highly decorated officer who served in both World Wars.

You must also remember that my parents spent several years in Caracas, Venezuela during the late 1970s and early 1980s. Over a third of the population live below the poverty line in that country, and hundreds of thousands of deformed, ape-like creatures live in the labyrinthine, gun-infested shantytowns lining Caracas’ surrounding hills. As early as 1979 I knew that Communism was the ideology for these creatures. Indeed, I remember overhearing adult conversation that complained about the corrupt mainstream political parties and that speculated about the day when the simians on the hills would lose their patience and stream down to the city in an angry, yelping horde of revenge to torch every villa, smash every car, loot every shop, and kill every rich White man and kleptomaniacal plutocrat in sight.



This was the experiential background against which I witnessed Labour’s electoral victory on Friday, 2 May 1997.

I remember overhearing through my open window my neighbors conversing by the rubbish bins outside and exchanging exclamatory remarks about the slaughtering of the Conservatives. I remembered hearing the BBC’s Radio 4 broadcasting the exultations of Labour supporters, who said they were “overjoyed” by the Blair victory, and the self-congratulatory voice of the philandering John Prescott, who in 1997 became Deputy Prime Minister, saying that he looked forward to a “bumpy ride”.

Of course, I did not imagine a return to the thieving 98% marginal rate of personal income tax of the Labour government of Harold Wilson. But I did anticipate a creeping but incessant increase in the tax burden, hidden with all manner of subterfuges. This expectation was fully met (indeed, the government gobbles around 40% of private earnings, while personal debt, not unrelated, has nearly tripled).

I also anticipated a crippled economy and a long-term deterioration of public finances, resulting from faster-than-growth public spending and the expansion of the welfare system. And, of course, the economy went from expanding by 3.3% in 1997 to contracting by 5.0% annually in 2009 — the worst performance in thirty years. Moreover, after 13-years of the Labour regime, the national debt tripled and government borrowing nearly septupled, which has finally put the United Kingdom’s credit rating in jeopardy. Labour apologists might want to argue that this was the result of the financial meltdown that began with the subprime mortgage crisis in the United States, which infected the entire Western world, but it did not have to be this way. During the early years of the regime, Gordon Brown, who was Chancellor of the Exchequer until 2007, enjoyed a fat economy, averaging 2.7% annual growth. Yet he somehow managed to squander it all, committing himself to Pharaonic spending programs and giving away 60% of the country’s gold reserves at $275 an ounce, always basing his spending on overoptimistic growth forecasts and leaving nothing aside for a rainy day. So much for abolishing “Tory boom and bust”.

Finally, I anticipated that the increased taxation and spending would yield no improvements in public services. And, unfortunately, I was not proven wrong: school leavers have grown dumber and more ignorant every year (see here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here); London tube fares have risen astronomically, and commuters are still packed like sardines inside the trains; and the cost of postage has doubled while more packets go missing or take longer in the post than ever before. (Apparently, the Royal Mail now even auctions off the “lost in the post” items on eBay, for profit!)

Even more unfortunately, my gloomiest expectations were generously exceeded. The discipline that the Blair government lacked in fiscal matters was made up by an obsessive preoccupation with presentation and spin. At this time I still watched television, and I remember feeling exasperated during the late 1990s by the lockstep regurgitation of empty slogans and rhyming sound bites by the arrogant “New” Labour politicians, repeated over and over and over again, irrespective of the question being asked. All the same, despite promising to be “whiter than white”, the scandals piled high: over the years, we have had to endure the cash for peerages scandal, the officegate scandal, the Hinduja affair scandal, the foot and mouth outbreak scandal, the Jo Moore scandal, the Iraq dossier scandal, the September dossier scandal, the Jowellgate scandal, the Smeargate scandal, the data discs loss scandal, the parliamentary expenses scandal, various donations scandals (see here and here), two consecutive cash for influence scandals (see here and here), and a high-level government conspiracy to make Britain even more multicultural through mass immigration in order to demoralize the opposition on the Right. This is only a small fraction of Labour’s achievements; writing them all would require more yottabytes of server disc space than there are atoms in the universe.

Where do you think I got the inspiration for my dystopian novel, Mister? Is it any surprise that readers survive, rather than enjoy this piece of fiction?

And the aforementioned yottabytes are used up before we even mention Tony Blair’s illegal wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, which, like the constantly expanding foreign aid program, are burning through thousands of millions of tax payers’ money every year, while pensioners who have paid into the system for decades freeze to death in Winter, and the National Health Service remains underfunded and overstretched, relying on overworked and underpaid Third World immigrant labour. Luckily, I am in good health and have not had to go to a bug-infested hospital; and, even more luckily, I was not using the London Underground or the double-decker bus at Tavistock Square on 7 July 2005, when four British-born Muslim immigrants, angered by the pro-Zionist Blair regime’s involvement in the Iraq War, decided to blow themselves up and everyone around them, in the name of Allah.



It is baffling, exasperating, given this record of incompetence, waste, perfidy, deception, idiocy, theft, and treason, that the Labour party still managed to scrounge a not-so-bad electoral result, 13 years after Blair walked onto the stage of his victory rally at the sound of D:Ream’s “Things Can Only Get Better”. In a just world, Labour would have been annihilated at the ballot box, expunged, down to the last MP. The House of Commons would have been fumigated and scrubbed down with potent disinfectants. Many among the freakshow of Labour politicians would eventually have been fined and thrown headfirst into a deep, dark dungeon. Some would have been hanged, even, despite Tony Blair’s having abolished the death penalty for treason in 1998, thereby averting future retribution. In times past, many have been hanged for less.

Perhaps it is the fact that the public is woefully miseducated and misinformed: even highly intelligent individuals, who keep abreast of current affairs, are astonishingly ignorant of the true nature of contemporary politics and politicians, particularly with regards to the identity and affiliations of a number of their most important donors.

Perhaps it is the fact that there is no real alternative: the Conservatives, after a failed and largely superficial feint to the Right, eventually converged with Blair’s New Labour, becoming virtually indistinguishable on all the vital issues; the fact that they can negotiate forming a coalition government with the Liberal Democrats, slightly to the Left of Labour, betrays the high overall redshift value of the contemporary mainstream political establishment.

Perhaps it is the fact that people do not want to waste their votes: it seems many vote for whomever they think is going to win, aided in their decision by polls and newspaper endorsements, and there is a generalized fear of fundamental change, of experimenting with marginal, inexperienced, and sometimes not wholly professional political parties. The BNP, presently the only viable party representing an alternative, has emerged as the fifth largest one in this election, behind the UKIP, which sceptics see as an establishment pressure valve. A 2006 YouGov survey found that the BNP’s policies were very popular with the public, and even more when said policies were not attributed to the party; but with 1.9% of the votes, unless proportional representation is introduced and short of a truly cataclysmic event, the BNP is still lightyears away from even one seat in the House of Commons. More credible alternatives are needed.

Whatever the explanation, the fact remains that, in the absence of an overall majority, even if the Conservatives manage to forge a coalition with the Liberal Democrats, nothing will change: all three mainstream political parties offer more taxes, more debt, more immigration, more equality, more political correctness, more nanny state, more support for Israel, more suicide bombers, more anti-White policies, more state surveillance, and more invasive controls at the airports. We have not seen the end of the days when staff at a state-run nursery confiscate a toddler’s cheese sandwich, prepared by his mother, because it does not contain a piece of lettuce and is therefore in violation of healthy eating regulations. As coalitions tend to be unstable, I anticipate drama and another election relatively soon, maybe in a few months, but not later than two years. And of course, the end product will be the same no matter who wins, so I will not be staying up all night to watch the results.

Frankly, I have better things to do with my time.