Dr. Oliver continues ...

Now, a perversion of all of these qualities in us operated during the centuries of our dominance to give us an utterly false conception of other peoples. We have imagined that by some magic we could convey to them not only our material possessions, but the qualities of our mind and soul.

And we have always succumbed to the flattery of imitation. The capacity for imitating behavior is common not only to all human beings, but to all anthropoids, as we all know from the proverbial expression, "monkey see, monkey do." An ape's ability to imitate is, of course, limited. But, with the exception of the Australoids, other races have the capacity to imitate us convincingly in externals. If they dress in our clothes, observe our social conventions, and speak our language, using the phrases which as they can learn by observation please us, and using those phrases even if they don't understand them or if they regard them as preposterous drivel and nonsense, the members of other races could imitate us so plausibly that we believe them converted to our mentality and to our conception of life. And any shortcomings that we may notice in the performance of the imitator, we generously overlook or regard as endearing naiveté.

This capacity for imitation is possessed by savages, at least by the more intelligent ones, and it has deceived us time after time. The British are as gullible as we are. Hundreds and hundreds of times, at least, they gave scholarships to Blacks from Basutoland or Kenya or Nigeria or one of their other possessions, and the result was almost always the same. With the money given him, the savage bought himself a good wardrobe, attended an English school, learned to play soccer, attended Oxford, wrote a charming essay on Wordsworth or on ancient law, copulated with half-witted English women who thought him "romantic" and themselves "broad-minded," and when he got tired of living on English generosity, went home to his tribe where he had a well-roasted baby served up to him as a delicacy of which he had been long deprived by the stupid prejudices of the stupid British.

With some of the highly intelligent Oriental peoples, the capacity for dissimulation goes much farther than that and approaches genius.

That strange and unique international people, the Jews, who for all the time in which they are known to history have lived and flourished by planting their colonies in other people's countries, have owed much of their success to the chameleon-like ability to take on, when they choose, the manners and attitudes of whatever country they choose to reside in. They are a highly intelligent people, quite possibly much more intelligent than we are. But all observers, notably Douglas Reed and Roderick Stohlheim, have commented on the Jews' amazing ability to seem a German in Berlin, a Czech in Prague, an Italian in Rome, and an Englishman in London, shifting from one rôle to the other with the ease with which a man might change his suit of clothes. The Jews have, of course, the great advantage that their skins are white, and that many of them resemble, in features, members of our race, even to the point of being indistinguishable, at least to an untrained eye, and including persons with such non-Oriental characteristics as blond or red hair.

I am not sure, therefore, that the highest talent for dissimulation does not belong to a people that does not have that very great physical advantage: the Japanese. Their ability to gain our confidence and appropriate our technology and science is simply phenomenal, as is obvious from what they, living crowded together on a few poor islands, have accomplished. But their talent for dissimulation is equally great.

I always remember the experience of a friend of mine, who was in the late 1930s a professor of chemistry in a large university in what may be called a strategic area of this country. The outstanding students in his graduate classes were four young Japanese. And partly because they were so apt in learning the more abstruse forms of chemistry, and partly because they were foreigners and so excited in him the generosity that is normal to us, he invited them to his home; and in the course of three years he came, he thought, to know them very well personally. Their manners and their English were excellent. They professed the greatest admiration for America and its institutions. They spoke, of course, of "democracy" in terms of high praise. They deplored "militarism," and they fervently hoped for "world peace" and "understanding among all peoples." My friend was convinced that if only we could bring more young men like that to the United States, the policy of Japan would eventually change, and the two nations would live thenceforth in perpetual amity.

Then one day he found himself alone at a crossroads in the open country some twenty miles from the university, waiting for some friends to pick him up in their automobile. They were late, and since the day was hot, he went to a nearby orchard to repose in the shadow of the trees while waiting. He saw his four Japanese students come sauntering down one of the roads, evidently out on a leisurely hike. At the crossroads, they stopped, looked up and down each road, looked around and saw no one. Then they straightened up and stood back to back, each facing in one direction, produced a Leica camera, and photographed each road and then the surroundings on each diagonal and made notations on a map. They had, of course, come to our country not only to learn our chemical science for eventual use against us, but also incidentally to map out the territory around the university for future reference, should their army have occasion to invade us or should they have occasion to land a secret force on our shores. And they went about their work with the patient thoroughness of their race, doubtless chuckling inwardly at the naiveté of the big White boobies who freely deliver all their hard-won knowledge to their natural enemies.

Our minds have been beclouded by an even more dangerous misconception long annexed to our religion. For centuries we have labored under the illusion that Western Christianity was something that could be exported, and only recent events have at last made it obvious to us how vain and futile have been the labors and zeal of devoted missionaries for five centuries.

When Cortez and his small but valiant band of iron men conquered the empire of the Aztecs, he was immediately followed by a train of earnest and devoted missionaries, chiefly Franciscans, who began to preach the Christian gospel to the natives. And they soon sent back home, with innocent enthusiasm, glowing accounts of the conversions they had effected. You can feel their sincerity, their piety, their ardor, and their joy in the pages of Father Sagun, Father Torquemada, and many others. And for their sake I am glad that the poor Franciscans never suspected how small a part they had really played in the religious conversions that gave them such joy. Far more effective than their words and their book had been the Spanish cannon that had breached the Aztec defenses and the ruthless Spanish soldiers who had slain the Aztec priests at their altars and toppled the Aztec idols from the sacrificial pyramids. The Aztecs accepted Christianity as a cult, not because their hearts were touched by doctrines of love and mercy, but because Christianity was the religion of the White men whose bronze cannon and mail-clad warriors made them invincible.

That was early in the 16th century, and we of the West have gone on repeating that fond mistake ever since, as the missionaries whom we sent to all parts of the world wrote home with innocent satisfaction glowing accounts of the number of hearts they had "won for Christ." And it is only after the international conspiracy's campaign of "anti-colonialism" really got underway that most of us realized that what had won all those hearts was primarily the discipline of British regiments and the power of the White man. On many a shore of Africa, for example, missionaries eager to win souls ventured to land alone; and the natives, after having a lot of fun torturing them to death, ate them – either cooked or raw, according to the local custom. What often happened was that a few months later a British cruiser hove to offshore, and lobbed a half a dozen 4.5-inch high explosive shells into the native village, and, if not in a hurry, perhaps landed half a company of marines to beat the bushes and drag out a dozen or so savages to hang on convenient trees. Unless the tribe was excessively stupid, they took the hint. The next bevy of missionaries was respected, as somehow representing the god of thunder and lightning. And if those men of God distributed enough free rice and medical care with their sermons, they were able to make many converts. They could teach a ritual, and they could perhaps inculcate a superstition that had some superficial resemblance to their religion; but as for teaching the spiritual substance of Christianity, they might as well have followed the example of St. Francis and delivered sermons to the birds. Although it is true that in some places in the former colonial possessions missionaries are still tolerated, if they pay very well, we have at last learned that the gospel follows the British regiments in the White man's ignominious and insane retreat from the world that was his.

All of these factors have contributed, I think, to our strange toleration of the "do-gooder" and our incredible obtuseness in never asking against whom he is "doing good." For it is unfortunately true that fully 80 per cent of all those high-sounding projects of "uplift" and "social justice" are motivated not by concern for the supposed beneficiaries, but by greed or malice. But we never ask.

That is why we have so many "intellectuals" battening upon us. They have discovered the safest and most profitable of all rackets. An "intellectual" is distinguished by two talents: a glib proficiency with words, and very sensitive nostrils. He can smell a twenty dollar bill in your pocket a block away, and within two minutes after that delicious aroma reaches his nostrils the "ideals" are drooling down his jaw. You know the jargon: "the underprivileged"; "equality of opportunity"; "the culturally deprived"; "underdeveloped nations"; "emerging peoples"; and the like, ad infinitum nauseam. And as you listen to his sing-song the chances are you won't even notice his hand as it goes into your pocket.

Now we may be rich enough to be suckers, but we cannot afford the more elaborate kinds of "do-gooding" that are inspired by malice and hatred. But yet we tolerate them with a collective masochism that is simply suicidal. We have accepted an incredible inversion of values to the point that we have declared ourselves to be an inferior species, fit only to be enslaved, beaten, and butchered at the whim of our betters. That is what the proposition amounts to, although, of course, it is daubed over with the viscid slobber of humanitarian drivel devised by our enemies and mindlessly multiplied by our own sniveling sentimentalists.

It is not a new thing. If I had time, I would direct your attention in some detail to the vast and irreparable calamity brought upon our nation in the last century by a tiny group of vociferous and crazed fanatics, the abolitionists, who forced upon the South its tragic war for independence. I am not defending slavery, Negro slavery, as an institution. I believe that Jefferson and Lincoln were right in regarding it as a system that was pernicious, for quite rational reasons, of which the most important were: first, that it maintained on our soil millions of persons of a race radically different from our own, and by our standards inferior; and second, that it resulted in some production of mongrels, pitiable creatures torn apart by the incompatible instincts they had inherited. As you know, it was the firm purpose of Abraham Lincoln to have all the Negroes either returned to Africa, or, in the interests of economy, to Central America. But the abolitionists were not rational. They were, I am sorry to say, most of them Americans, including such persons as Wendell Phillips, Professor Elizur Wright, and, of course, hysterical females such as Lydia Child and Harriet Beecher Stowe. Their leader was William Lloyd Garrison, who was an American too, though he was financed by Isaac Mack and other Jews. They were a tiny group, despised by sane Americans, North and South. But they ranted and raved until they got their way. They began to agitate in 1840 for dissolution of the American union, and for division of the United States, by secession, into two countries. And after twenty years of ranting, they finally persuaded the states of the South to take their proposal seriously.

It is most instructive to read the abolitionists. They spout quotations from the Bible, and they babble about "human rights" and "equality." But they cannot completely conceal their real animus and inspiration. Their venom is directed against the plantation owners of the South, most of whom, though by no means all, were ladies and gentlemen. The abolitionists had in their minds a picture, partly correct, of the Southern landowner as man far superior to themselves in education, culture, and humanity. And for that they hated him, implacably. They also had in their feverish minds a picture, totally false, of the planter as a man of unbounded wealth and leisure who spent his life lolling on a wide veranda and sipping mint juleps. And they envied him passionately. They had a picture, equally false, of the Southern lady as one who spent her days in fairy-like ease, waited on hand and foot by obsequious slaves. They had a picture, largely correct, of those women as being accorded by men a chivalrous respect that was almost unknown in the North. And so they yearned to humiliate and destroy that Southern lady. That was the real inspiration of their frantic "do-gooding."

You can take the true measure of what has happened to our national mentality by just remembering the name of that distinguished horse thief and homicidal manic, John Brown, who, financed by a conspiratorial group that called themselves the Secret Six, was sent into the South to start a slave revolt. As everyone admits, his purpose was to get all the White women of the South raped and butchered, and to get all the White men of the South barbarously mutilated and butchered. What does that make of him in contemporary opinion? Why, he was a "champion of human rights," "a martyr of freedom," and all that. He wanted to butcher, it's true, but to butcher White men and women. That is to say, White slime, like ourselves, as we wallow in ecstasies of self-abasement and self-hatred. And that suffices to make him admirable, to make him noble. And so his soul goes marching on – over the hot coals, I hope.

I remind you that that little body of howling dervishes brought on us a terribly fratricidal war, inflicting on us an irreparable loss and impoverishing our nation and race forever by destroying the genetic heritage of our best men. And it also coarsened us morally, perhaps also irreparably. For after the assassination of Lincoln, which they certainly contrived, our hate-crazed "do-gooders" had their way. If there is any American who can read the history of all the suffering wantonly inflicted on the White people of the South during what is called "Reconstruction" without hanging his head in shame and feeling through his whole being an anguished remorse, I can only say that he is hard-hearted and sadistic beyond my understanding.

With that beginning, is it any wonder that we have reached today the point at which frenzied hatred of us is the certain way of attaining our veneration and our reverence? How the Americans have been taught to hate themselves!

Chinese Communists attack and capture one of our naval vessels, which we, perhaps by agreement between them and our enemies in Washington, refuse to defend although we had ample warning of the attack. But who cares? They're just White slime like us, born to work and die for their masters' pleasure. Now of course if they had been something really choice and noble, such as a mongrel syphilitic lousy homosexual Communist cannibal, why all of our liberal punks would be out screaming and howling in our streets from dawn to dusk and all night.

Every day, more and more of our young men are shipped to Vietnam and forced to fight under conditions carefully contrived to ensure the maximum loss of American life and to ensure eventual defeat. But let us overlook that. Let us assume that it really is a war and that it is being honestly fought. What is its professed purpose? To secure a naval or air base for the United States? To conquer a colony for the United States? To protect our blood brothers in Australia? Those would be rational purposes, although one might debate the strategic necessity of that particular location. No. The ostensible purpose, the declared purpose, is to save the prolific Orientals of South Vietnam from the horrors of Communism. Never mind that that purpose is transparent hypocrisy. Assume that it is sincere. What then?

We are Americans, White men of the West. And if we were sane, no truth would be more obvious and unquestionable to us than the fact that, so far as we are concerned, all the teeming population of Vietnam is not worth the life of one American soldier. But if anyone suggests that, why everyone is horrified: "Are we not the world's slaves to be used for do-gooding? Who cares about your son and mine – they're expendable."

Now at the instigation of the promoters of that slaughter in Vietnam for political purposes, hordes of young punks come screaming from the doors of our hoodlum-hatcheries (which for some reason are still called colleges), and they protest the awful war in Vietnam. What are they protesting? The useless death of a brother? Or of a former classmate, a White man? No, they are yowling and yammering because some of the sweet Orientals in North Vietnam get hurt sometimes. If only we could find some plausible way of killing American boys without discomfort to the Orientals, those rabid protestors would be perfectly happy.

The Jews, who, as I have said, are a highly intelligent people, and who with perhaps five per cent of our military resources knew how to finish in six days a war against opponents far more numerous and formidable than the Vietnamese, and who were intelligent enough to know that the only justification for aggressive war is the territory that is conquered by it, decided that it would be fun to kill some despised goyim on our ship the Liberty, and they did so – with the result that the legislature of at least one American state rushed them an official message of congratulations. Our men were killed where we sent them, ostensibly in the service of our country, killed while wearing our uniform and flying our flag. They were the symbols of our nation. They would have been the visible embodiment of our self-respect, if we had any. But who cares? They're just White slime like us.

Down in Memphis, somebody shoots a Black automobile thief, noted Communist agent, and bloodthirsty inciter of riots and revolution against us. What happens? Half the White nitwits in this country snivel and sob and mourn, saying tearfully, "What a wonderful man he was. He wanted to kill White slime like us. Wasn't that sweet, wasn't that noble, wasn't that saintly, wasn't he just like Jesus?"

One could go on for hours listing more examples. But I have said enough, surely, to show you what is really the greatest single obstacle that we face: the perverted collective masochism that has been incited in so many of our people.

What I have been saying right now is not what I first intended to say to you. I meditated, and prepared a discourse that was intended to show you that we have passed the point of no return, and that we now face a future of violence that can result only in our total subjection to the status of livestock, or survival at the cost of great hardships, sacrifice, and loss of life. I intended to speak at some length about Francis Parker Yockey and his great book "Imperium". It is a book which evidently has the power to give to sound and healthy young Americans an inspiration and a purpose. And I intended to comment on it as representing, probably, our only force that will help us emerge from our present plight.

But after that, I had two telephone calls from men whose names you would probably recognize. The patriotic movements in this country include some phonies and a number of double agents, whose mission it is to see to it that all patriotic endeavors are directed down blind alleys, where they must end in frustration and discouragement. But I feel sure that neither man who called me belonged to either of those groups. I feel convinced that they were sincere and earnest. One of them spoke to me very solemnly about our duty to protect and defend the people of Vietnam from the horrors of Communism. The other, in the course of the conversation, spoke very emphatically about our duty to give to the rest of the world an inspiring example of the blessings of free enterprise – to the rest of the world, mind you. We are obliged to give them a model they can follow. So I discarded the discourse I had prepared and substituted this discussion, which has already been both too long and too cursory.

For I am convinced that we shall never be able to think rationally about our own survival until we have the courage to say, in our own minds: We are Americans, White men of the West. This is our country because we took it from the Indians. And we have an unquestionable right to this country so long as we have the power and will to defend it.

What do we owe the nations of Western Europe and such nations as Australia and South Africa? We owe them recognition of our blood relationship to the men of our race who remained in the lands from which we came, and with whom we have, to the extent that they recognize it, a common interest, since we and they together form a race that is numerically a minority on this globe, the rest of whose inhabitants hate us.

What do we owe the rest of the world? Nothing, absolutely nothing.

What are the "civil rights" that we owe our Negroes if they insist on having them? A free ride to Africa.

What do we owe the self-chosen people? Ordinary courtesy and considerate treatment so long as we are convinced that it is to our advantage to have a cohesive body of 12 to 15 million aliens reside in our country and own a large part of it.

What do we owe to the unspeakable gang that now rules us in Washington? A fair trial.

Now all this, of course, is something that we can say only in our own minds and in closed meetings. It is probably rash to say it even in such assemblies as this, given the strange infatuation of the majority of our people to which I have called your attention as being the greatest single obstacle before us. Such statements are obviously not feasible as propaganda or proclamations. Indeed, I greatly fear that for most of our people those implanted "humanitarian" hallucinations are so deep and inveterate that they can be broken, if at all, only by the terrible shock of physical suffering. And that they will surely receive.

In the meantime, it will fall to you, if you do not intend to surrender, to provide such leadership in your own circles and communities and to make such preparations and take such actions as will advance our cause with due consideration to prudence and strategy. I have said this to you because I am firmly convinced that our future is hopeless indeed if we do not clearly see in our own minds our own purposes. And that, I am certain, we can never do, unless we can free our own minds from the constricting trammels of "humanitarian" superstition and the counterfeit moral inhibitions that have replaced true morality.

I trust that I have not shocked any of you. But I know that it is quite possible that some of you may feel that what I have said is heartless and in violation of our Christian duty to love everyone. If so, I can only say that I am sorry and observe that you are much too good for this world.

I know that the prospect that I have suggested is grim and may well daunt a man. I can only remind you of the most incontrovertibly true statement in the great and prophetic work of Oswald Spengler: "Glücklich wird niemand sein der heute irgendwo in der Welt lebt." [No one in the world today can expect happiness.] From that destiny there is no retreat, no escape. There is no place to hide from the consequences of what we of the West have brought on ourselves by our generous folly.

The only alternatives now are to fight or to whimper. But if you think that you can escape, good-bye and good luck. To the rest of you I suggest that we shall see our problem clearly when we say to ourselves:

We are Americans. This is our country. He who would take it from us, by force or by stealth, is our enemy. And it is our purpose – nay, it is our duty to our children and to their children and to our yet unborn posterity – it is our duty to use all feasible means to destroy him.

This article appeared in the January 1995 issue of "Liberty Bell."

(Liberty Bell Publications, P.O. Box 21, Reedy WV 25270 USA).