Monday, October 18, 2010

Us...

As impossible as it may seem, there are White people who have been so conditioned towards hating their own race, that they recoil over the assertion that a White Culture (let alone race) exists. Black culture? No Problem. Hispanic Culture? Why, of course. Asian Culture? Visible and obvious. White Culture? What? What’s that? ... Never existed!!!!!!

Why? Maybe because White culture has been so overwhelmingly dominant for the past 3,000 years, that its existence casts too bright a light on the lesser contributions of the other races. Maybe because, for the most part, people today take Western Civilization for granted as Civilization period. Colored peoples’ cultures are viewed as kind of like food chains with franchise rights or a monopoly on a slogan or symbol.

So what is White Culture? It is Western Culture and Civilization, which is to say, European Culture and Civilization, whether it be found in Europe or her colonies around the world.

It is our way of thinking and acting or re-acting. It is the way we gather in groups and produce our rule-of-law to reflect our desire for our notions of a harmonious society.

It is in the way we express ourselves in our music, which tends towards the melodic rather than the rhythmic. In music we seek the divine and the glorious. Non-Whites make music that aims for the hips, while Whites make music that aims for the Heavens.

It is the way we express ourselves in our art, which seeks out the thoughtful and reflective, rather than the opportunism of self/collective adulation that infests so much of non-White art. And in our literature, in which we are inspired (rather than reviled) by the honorable and idealistic, even when tragic, rather then the self-serving and opportunistic.

It is our ability to look beyond our most immediate wants and needs and see ourselves, both individually and collectively, as part of an as yet unfinished tapestry of a history to which we ourselves are but a small part. It is our innate ability to ponder and reflect in both melancholy and joy, the “what-if’s” and the “might have been” and the “what is yet to be”. It is in our wondering what is over the next hill, and finding out. It is in our ability to behold nature, filled with both sorrow and delight at beauty for beauty’s sake.
It is in our feeling that sense of spiritual ecstasy when gazing upon a glorious sunrise, or the feeling of reflective calm and thoughtful peace when viewing a long sunset. White Culture is, simply put, what flows in the veins of every Son and Daughter of European descent. It cannot be described, only experienced. And it can only be experienced by those who are born of it. And being that we Whites are only 13% of the World’s population and dropping (non-Whites making up 87% of the world’s population), it is an experience that may soon fade from all knowledge and memory.

“Acting White” is what Whites do by nature, by being astute, inquisitive, polite and dignified. Perfection is unattainable, but the pursuit in the belief of it is what most distinguishes Whites from the other races who are more ready to simply accept the corrupt, the ugly and the broken as being “all that there need be”.

White Culture is first and foremost what non-Whites so endlessly envy, even as they hate us for it. It is what they want more than anything in the world, willing to steal and kill to get close to it, feeling as if they deserve to have it, yet can never possess it. As soon as they move in, Whites move out. And with the Whites goes their culture, their progress and their civilization. Whether it’s a city like Detroit or a state like California, non-Whites can be gifted the physical territory, yet the intellectual and the “spiritual” (as in innate) qualities and aspects of White Culture, with its progress, relative stability and societal riches, escapes them.

White culture is, for instance.... William Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Alexander ‘the Great’, Mozart, Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, Julius Caesar, Beowulf and King Arthur, Cicero, Herodotus, Paris, London, The Eiffel Tower, The Parthenon, Leonidas and his 300 Spartans, Socrates and Aristotle, Plato and Raphael, Columbus, George Washington, Napoleon, Electricity, Railroads, Gutenberg and his Printing Press, Tales of Hector and Achilles, Odin and Thor, The Nibelungenlied and the Norse Sagas, The Magna Carta, The Airplane, Representative Government, Archeology, Individualism and Monogamy, TheVikings and The Pilgrims, Knights and Chivalry, The Nuclear Family, Steam Ships and Space Shuttles, White Picket Fences and Shires, Automobiles and Computers, Charlemagne and Beethoven and the list goes ever on ...



As an addendum to the above I would add the following.


On the causes of decline in the ability of Whites to recognize their own culture, one thing that never seems to get factored into the equation much is the modern ease/necessity of mobility at a time when the attacks upon our history is increasing as fast as the rate of foreigners pouring into out lands.

By that I mean the ability/desire/necessity of moving from town to town -across state- out of state- back and forth- and so on. It’s rare in modern America to have the same neighbors for more than a few years. And as a consequence a loss of physical, geographical, well-rooted identity has become epidemic.

Strange faces are strange faces. If you are new to an area, having no long term ties to that community and find it already multi-culted and its inhabitants socially atomized due to “diversity”, then you are more likely to except it as is; as being what it has always been and therefore feel no great inclination to defend it (It’s not really yours after all and nobody else seems to care).

It was not always like this. Western man used to have, not a home, but a Home.

There was a time when you would grow up, live, marry, age and die in the same general area your father, grand-father and great grandfather lived out their lives before you. You would walk the same streets, drive the same roads, hunt in the same woods, shop in the same stores, etc that your kin who came before you did.

Not only that, but the people around you, the friends you grew up with, had the same sense of blood-tied roots to the land and its monuments, whether they be a town tree or favorite fishing pond, that you did. The people you lived and worked with had, for the most part, the same names and surnames as those your grandfather and his fathers before him would recognize.

The hills, the rivers, the meadows and even the sky above you were the shelter of your people for countless generations. There was a familiarity in them that was almost primal. The very soil itself had been nurtured and stained with the blood, sweat and tears of your forbearers.

Every town (though they may be little more than five miles apart) had its own post office, fire department, school, mayor, etc. And each town had its own personality, mood and reputation. They were, for all intents and purposes, the whole world to their inhabitants.

It wasn’t just a residence, it was a place of spiritual fortitude of the soul. A place of deep conscience and unconscious memory shared by those around you. It was yours!
And you would face down the abominable hordes of hell alone to defend even the smallest, most insignificant corner of it.

In that world every stranger was immediately noticeable as “out of place”.

That is not to say we didn’t recognize our own kind. We certainly did. But we categorized our fellow-travelers within concentric circles of likeness; the same accent, the same language, the same denomination, the same faith, the same politics, etc. But despite the nuances in differences those concentric circles always held the same center, (White) Western Civilization.

What we see today is a loss of that center in the loss of geo-cultural identity. And as foreigners move in and alter a place’s local culture and personality, Whites are set even more adrift with out either an anchor to hold position or hope of a safe harbor in the future.

Home is not where you hang your hat. Home is where you were born and where YOUR people Live (with a capital L). It is that place you come back to after you have explored the distant horizons to find comfort in the familiar.

In short, most White people have no sense of a true Home today. They cannot define themselves because they cannot define their civilization/Home.

And men fight for Home, and all it stands for (wife, children, parents, grandparents, familiar roads, favorite ponds, well trodden woods, childhood memories by a brook, football games in the autumn, old barns barely of use and the very dirt upon which it all stands.)

For Home, Western man has stood firm and fought victoriously time and again over the long ages against countless foreign hordes.

For Home, Western man will meet each stranger (friendly or not) with the fierce protective spirit of Lioness guarding her young and an expression that says, tread carefully, for you walk now upon all that I hold dear!

Without Home there is no Us.

Without Home there is no way to define your own people as apart from strangers. And without the ability or willingness to differentiate between the two, you are vulnerable prey to those who can, and very much will, tell you apart from their own.




As Mr. Kipling so aptly put it:-

The Stranger within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk --
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
But not the soul behind.
The men of my own stock
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wonted to.
They are used to the lies I tell,
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy and sell.
The Stranger within my gates,
He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control
What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the Gods of his far-off land
Shall repossess his blood.
The men of my own stock,
Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.
This was my father’s belief
And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf -
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children’s teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.

Rudyard Kipling



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