How Does The Average Person In Sweden See Things?

In Sweden, or anywhere in occupied Europe.

I know exactly what people in the United States thought about Diversity before it marred our landscape: it was a mix of pity, anxiety, and confidence that we’ll never lose control of it. But that was then, this is now.

It would be interesting to learn more about everyday life in Sweden from someone who lives there. Bad-news tweets tell a part of the story but they also make you wonder, how does the average person over there see the reality that comes to us via “cucked Sweden” cliches? The question is complicated by the very term “average person” because the average person is a follower (you forget this because if you are a reader of AltRight blogs, you are a leader to some extent — you’re bucking the liberal culture that you get from politicians, school, telewitz, and clothing store ads).

So this “average person” in Sweden or wherever will tell you that things are fine. He will point to his country’s top score on the World’s Happiness Index. He’ll even say it after experiencing an incident with a mud because he follows the official line that all is well, the immigrants are OK, and it’s the racists who are the threat to peace. He might be a “Number 7” liberal:

Seven: like everyone in the West, they feel that something is very wrong. But unlike those of us who want to confront the problem, liberals are appeasement-oriented. Whomever they seek to appease at any given moment — placate any individuals or entities that comprise the patron-client matrix of neoliberalism — they look with horror upon Trump and the Alt-Right’s aggressive challenge to these seemingly omnipotent forces. Liberals would rather let the wolves pace about so long as we don’t give them a reason to bite, even as the animals grow bolder and meaner with each passing year.

Still, people aren’t automatons. Though he’s a follower, the average person has eyes. Something feels off in his gut but he insists that Sweden is doing well… first, because he believes the cheery messages. Here is one such example of demonic cheer from a Swedish children’s book:


(Demonic cheer in America is no different. Go to a public library and see the glossy black-grievance and homosexuality-promotion material on display. Americans ignore that stuff like a bad talisman; reverently years ago, cynically now. What do Europeans think of such graphics?)

Then, he believes because he wants to believe. After that, he only pretends to believe. Eventually, he discovers that his expressions of loyalty to the liberal system do not guarantee fair treatment. He might start thinking that his government simply hates him for who he is.

At this point, one of two things happens:

  1. He seeks psychological comfort in doubling-down on his fidelity to liberalism, or
  2. He stops considering his government legitimate.

The bad news: most people will take Door No. 1. The SJW is a product of such doubling-down on submission. The good news: their loyalty is conditional on the system’s display of omnipotence. Door No. 2 is what we red-pilled folks in America, Sweden and elsewhere walked through, some of us decades ago. But this post is not about leaders. It’s about followers, our brothers and sisters who outnumber us by a ratio of more than 9:1.

The difference between them and us, as I said, is that being leaders (on some level), we were, for one or another reason, spiritually equipped to push away the system’s dominant narrative. Some of us found nascent Right Wing blogs and accepted the connection between what we read there and the doubts that were gnawing at us. Others had the religious or social substrate that was stronger than liberalism to begin with, and yet others looked for truth independently. But the average people don’t have any of those truth-seeking impulses, they prefer the comfort of obedience.

Once they feel that the liberal system is no longer a fair master, they will look for a new home. Are average people in Western Europe at a point where they are weighing their options?



The video below shows a progression of scenes from the 1981 film “Interrogation,” chronicling the breaking down of a Stalin-era political prisoner. What proves Krystyna Janda a great actress is how she makes the extraordinary familiar. Toward the end of the video her character attempts suicide and it looks real. First, her eyes dart sidelong like a schoolboy passing a note behind the teacher’s back, then those wild-animal teeth flash brightly, then her childlike surprise upon finding herself past the point-of-no-return toward death.

Zbigniew Herber’s “The Interrogation of an Angel” is musically interpreted in that video. The poem is typical of Herbert’s pregnant simplicity; in his own words, he does not create images, he just knocks on doors that open freely for anyone who wants to see.

The poem has strange descriptions. “The eons of his hair” is a literal translation, there is no idiomatic meaning. An “angel” is interrogated, referred to as “he” but he is given feminine qualities, with the long hair up in a bun and the blushing. This doesn’t rule out the possibility that subject of the interrogation is a man and the hint of androgyny is a metaphor for innocence. But on another level, Herbert could be talking literally about angels — which are spirits, they don’t reproduce so they don’t have sexual characteristics. They don’t even have material form, though they can assume human shape to accommodate our senses. So with that interpretation: a real angel is locked in human form, is killed, and then something of metaphysical significance happens.

As to depictions of flesh-and-blood human beings, “The Sopranos” features a scene or two in which a hapless wretch sits wide-eyed on a stool as the stony-faced gangsters stand over him. The fellow who ran afoul of Tony’s crew looks like a worm on a hook. There is a reason why people who survive war captivity don’t want to talk about it: torture is not photogenic. The subject doesn’t look like he’s maxing out a rep like they show in heroic movies, he looks like a crying baby. “Dehumanizing” really does mean that.

Can dehumanization be transcended? Yes, if the prisoner’s belief in his rightness is strong. Few people have the constitution to withstand social disapproval, much less torture. Some do, though. So, where physical endurance gives out, there has to be something else because there are many accounts of defiant martyrdom. There was also a Man who was wrongly accused, mocked and spat-on, flogged, a crown of thorns pushed down on his head…

Przesłuchanie Anioła / The Interrogation of an Angel
(Zbigniew Herbert, 1969) 

Kiedy staje przed nimi / Standing before them
w cieniu podejrzenia / in the shadow of suspicion
jest jeszcze cały / he is still wholly
z materii światła / of light’s substance

eony jego włosów / the eons of his hair
spięte są w pukiel / are pulled in a lock
niewinności / of innocence

po pierwszym pytaniu / after the first question
policzki nabiegają krwią / his cheeks flush red

krew rozprowadzają / the blood is distributed
narzędzia i interrogacja / with tools and interrogation

żelazem trzciną / with iron and cane
wolnym ogniem / with open flame
określa się granice / the body’s limits
jego ciała / are defined

uderzenie w plecy / a strike to the back
utrwala kręgosłup / fixes the spine
między kałużą a obłokiem / between a puddle and a cloud

po kilku nocach / after a few nights
dzieło jest skończone / the work is completed
skórzane gardło anioła / the leathery throat of the angel
pełne jest lepkiej ugody / is full of sticky agreeableness

jakże piękna jest chwila / how beautiful is the moment
gdy pada na kolana / when he falls to his knees
wcielony w winę / guilt incarnate
nasycony treścią / saturated with narrative

język waha się / the tongue hesitates
między wybitymi zębami / between the broken teeth
a wyznaniem / and the confession

wieszają go głową w dół / they hang him head-down

z włosów anioła / from the hair of the angel
ściekają krople wosku / drip drops of wax
tworząc na podłodze / forming on the floor
prostą przepowiednię / a simple prophecy


Songs From Yugoslavia

Hej Slovani, naša reč / Hey, Slavs, our Slavic language
Slovanska živo klije / Lives on

Those are lyrics from the former Yugoslavia’s national anthem. The wording and language varies a bit between the different national groups that comprised “The Land of Southern Slavs.” Balkan experience is different from that on the northern plains. The mountains and the shadow of the Ottoman empire shaped things differently than our history did, with Germany to the west and Tsar/Stalin to the east.

Doris Dragović Željo Moja. I linked to a live performance at 1986 Eurovision because there is some vintage Euro stuff in the announcers’ prelude to this performance, including a shot of Norwegian reindeer-sledding. But you can look up the recorded version easily for a high-definition sound; it’s a pretty song. It is introduced in English and French as “Love is Fire” for some reason, but Željo Moja means “My Wish.” It’s interesting to compare languages. For example, the line before the chorus:

Croatian: “Tiho tiho, suzo, ne daj se”
Polish: “Cicho cicho, łzo, nie daj się”
English: “Hush hush, my tears, don’t give in”

1991 Yugoslavian Civil War. The wounded Serbian soldier in the footage below appears to have been conscripted and assigned to a unit that didn’t have much in the way of leadership. He was left behind by his platoon, interrogated here by a more professional-looking Croatian unit that found him:

Croat commander: “Don’t worry, we won’t kill you”
Serb: “Please don’t, brothers”
Croats [laughing]: “Brothers? we are not brothers”

Serbian and Croatian languages are nearly identical, though the former is written in Cyrillic and the latter in Roman alphabet. The enemy soldiers in the video communicate without difficulty. My fluency in Polish allows me to pick up many of the individual words but without the subtitles, I’d be almost, but not quite, able to understand what they are saying.

It seems nonsense to us now, to see Serbs and Croats at each others’ throats. We just don’t understand the Balkans of that period. It helps to envision things coming to a showdown right here. Compare their ethnic conflict to our incipient ideological one and think about the liberal down the street who’d have you fired from your job if he discovered that you comment on right wing blogs. In a hypothetical situation similar to the one in the video, we’d understand our prisoner’s English just fine and all the same, we’d laugh at his appeals to brotherhood.

I think a lot about this. I don’t want a civil war so I’ve tried to be patient with libs because our paths are not separate, we’re just having to wait out their hysteria. But neither reason nor compassion works. There is no communication. They want to go down, and take us with them.

“In the modern Europe there is no room for homogeneous national states. It was an idea from 1800s, and we are going to carry it [multiculturalism] through…and we are going to create multi-ethnic states.” — Gen. Wesley Clark

NATO’s bombing of Christian Serbs on behalf of Muslim gangsters woke me up to the malevolent nature of the American empire. There was a news story about U.S. bombers hitting a downtown bridge in Serbia and people scrambling to help the wounded civilians. Then the planes made another pass, this time killing the bystanders who ran to give first aid. A man was quoted grieving over his teenage daughter, who was among the people who rushed to help.

Amadeus Band’s Moja Zemlja (“My Country”) features a contemporary HD video of a Serb special ops team rescuing a hostage in a hero-villain story. Watching it will increase your testosterone. As a commenter here once put it:

One thing that I’ve noticed about the music scene among the Slavs, is that a lot of mainstream music takes on nationalistic, militaristic, masculine/patriarchal and anti-“globalist” themes, and isn’t relegated to the fringe like it is in the western world. Love and pride of culture, country and people is promoted rather than outright ignored or even intentionally trashed.

There was a tired quality to Warsaw Pact’s and Yugoslavian armed forces. Since then, and especially as a result of several countries’ joining NATO, it’s been a different story. As dramatized in the video, the armed forces of these countries have modernized and some of them have combat experience in Afghanistan and Iraq. And arguably, morale and personnel quality is higher in east-central Europe than elsewhere on the continent.

Bijelo Dugme Te Noci Kad Umrem (“The Night I Die”). The great Bosnian band — I blogged about them a while back. The song is about different women’s reactions to the news of the speaker’s death. The guitarist (wearing a white shirt) in this 1987 fan-participation live performance, Goran Bregović, is now regarded in Europe as the Balkan folk-pop musician.

Divlje Jagode Krivo Je More (“The Sea is Wrong”) is a contemporary performance some years after the power ballad’s original release. Also from Bosnia. Something I find cool in Yugoslavian languages is the words that have an “r” but without any nearby vowel. They are spoken in a trochaic consonant burst. Examples: srce (heart), krv (blood), mrvica (crumb), or crni (black). Their equivalents in Polish are more pronounceable: serce, krew, mrówka, czarny.

Ti, ti si ga upoznala / You, you met him
jedne ljetne večeri / one summer evening
On, on te poljubio / He, he kissed you
dok more se pjenilo / while the sea was foaming
I ti si se zaljubila / And you fell in love
mada nisi htjela to / though you didn’t want to

Krivo je more / The sea is wrong
Znaj, ljeto je varljivo / You know, summer is deceptive
a srce ti zavodljivo / and your heart was seduced

Kući kad si došla ti / When you came home
znala si da si u zabludi / you knew you were lost
A to veče uz mora šum / But that evening by the roaring sea
Od sreće sva si blistala / you blissfully glowed
Krivo je more / The sea is wrong

Yugoslavian National Anthem, (1943 – 1992). Its opening line is at the top of the post. The melody is based on “Mazurek Dąbrowskiego,” which has been the national anthem of Poland since 1926, but the Yugoslav variation is at slower tempo. The video shows propaganda images from pre-civil war Yugoslavia, along with English subtitles.


“We are not brothers.”
— Croat soldiers laughing at a wounded Serb POW

Is that still true?

Laibach. Their pan-Slavic interpretation of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia anthem in English, from their 2006 “Volk” album:

Action In Belgium


European youth is waking up:
>communists planned to occupy a medieval castle and hung up banners calling for open borders and more refugees
>got supported by various refugee organisations and Greenpeace
>suddenly 20-25 young fellas show up
>some of them get inside the castle
>tears down every pro-refugee banner on the castle
>meanwhile another group holds up a banner saying ‘Secure borders, secure future’
>pissed off a whole crowd of leftist babyboomers, hippies and communists
>degenerate lefties start threatening them
>after several minutes the police show up and every single one of them got away without getting arrested

Good physiognomy, strong voice, good follow-on dissemination via the HD video below.

Most people aren’t going to take risky direct action against the system. That’s always been the domain of a small minority of fighters. The expectation on the others is to support them. One of the ways in which you can do that is to spread videos of successful action such as that one.

There are two kinds of target-audiences: the red-pilled and the normies. The latter require a shock to be willing to lose their faith in the system. One way to shock them is through “bad news” messages. That’s in fact the purpose of black-pilling someone. By itself, it becomes counterproductive when dwelled-on amongst ourselves because we already know. This is why, for example, when I posted yesterday about mudsharking in Ireland, I put it in historic context so that the problem doesn’t feel like it’s the end of the world. I also proposed a solution.

I also watch bad-news videos analytically. For example, this clip from a tram in Sweden, which shows a shitskin intimidating an old woman into giving up her seat. The most scary things are those that are unknown. All those abstractions about “migrants” feel larger than life until they assume a human (so to speak) face. In the linked clip from Sweden, it’s in the person of a tightly wound, frustrated mulatto.

Watching that scene, I wondered, “What would I have done on that train?” That depends on a lot of things. There is a young man standing nearby, pretending not to see. That could have been you or me. He required three things, as do we: one, a willingness to impose his frame on the spectacle (many have a shyness-threshold about loud public scenes). Two, confidence that others would have his back if he stepped in. And three, a conviction that he’s right to act. This is why if you witness one of those situations, you have to communicate, right there in the heat of things, your solidarity with the White party and step up per your judgment.

Watching such videos, you also want to analyse the antagonist’s physical potential. Is he armed? If committed to confronting him, would you surprise-strike or walk up and either intimidate him into submission or bait him to make the first move?

History never ends. There is never going to be a permanent settled peace (utopia) for them either. A new leadership class is born in Belgium and everywhere else. Those who watch will choose between the Identitarians and the sclerotic post-WWII order.

That ugly antifa couple up on that castle are mad that they were born two generations too late. It was cool to protest Reagan in Europe thirty five years ago.

Ireland’s Turn to Deal With Mudsharking

A series of photos showing Irish girls walking with Africans was posted.

I don’t know the situation in Ireland, only the apparently analogous situation in America in the early 1990s. It seemed that mudsharking was suddenly everywhere. It wasn’t, but it seemed that way. Chicks in “mean girls” cliques, girls with something on the ball, with a steady boyfriend, good family circumstances and with good personalities didn’t do it. It was some of the dumber, lower class, broken-home girls. Girls complained about how nogs would try to grind on them at the club. “You don wanna dance wif me jus cause im blak!” and back then it was an awkward thing for a chick to extricate herself from.

America went thru a phase in which niggers had the low hanging fruit for grabbing. Ireland appears to be in that situation now. Breivik wrote about this happening in the working class sections of Oslo fifteen years ago.

Ireland or whatever country can either write off some of its lower class girls and move on like America did. (In my mid-Atlantic metropolitan region, mudsharking is now the domain of fat, middle-aged slags) — or Ireland can protect its future.

“Obvious what to do. There is no personal or national upside to mudsharking. Don’t abandon your foolish girls to a lifetime of regret but strangle it in the crib.” — Glengarry

A pro-Irish government would be of paramount help here, including police that turns a blind eye on instances of Irish street initiative. Weird, how the IRA did what they did but new action heroes haven’t emerged yet to deal with new circumstances. This is why aggressive nationalistic marches (under a benevolent government, if you’re lucky) are so important. Like the 60,000-strong Independence Day march in Warsaw. Those things leave a spectacular imprint on everybody’s consciousness. They raise native boys’ confidence and reassure girls.

I dropped the n-bomb above. Just like the word “racist” has paralyzed us for decades, so does “nigger” reaffirm the natural order. That’s why they went after racial slurs first. Captive elephants are tethered with a thin rope that they could easily break but they don’t, because they are conditioned from youth to deem the rope unbreakable. Collective slump starts in the individual mind, and there it is also broken.

How to help prevent mudsharking: my all-time most popular post.


Familiar propaganda promotes one of these three ideologies: capitalism, socialism, or nationalism.

CapitalismThere is a patch of woods between two residential developments. Some might say that this natural body has intrinsic value. But a developer sees an opportunity to monetize those woods in a one-time, irreversible flip of that real estate into another residential development. But who will buy it? he asks himself. We’ll bring them in. The core motive behind capitalism is wealth, its propaganda is a McDonald’s commercial.

Socialism. Never trust a socialist — or a communist, same thing. In Eastern Europe after ’89, they re-branded themselves as “social democrats.” Today, ideological supporters of the EU and liberalism in general tend to be former Communist and their now-adult children. The motive behind socialism is political power, so when its propaganda features nationalistic imagery, its use is incidental and opportunistic, no less so than contemporary multikult motifs.

Nationalism. The Alt-Right has genius propagandists, doing natsoc-aesthetic, absurdism, and high art, all of which appeal to a vision of meaningful life on Earth in harmony with higher truth. Even when playful in concept, such propaganda recognizes the transcendent reality beyond material things like wealth and power, which is why images of the Cross figure centrally in the Székesfehérvár video.


Enjoy the East German propaganda video below. I’m inclined to agree with those Germans who say that it wasn’t a reunification, it was an annexation and it ruined an agreeable way of life. For one, DDR had a more humane way of handling their Hitler problem. In West Germany, three generations of schoolchildren were taught to hate themselves. In East Germany, they were told that they were misled by their leaders but things are different now.

You can say bad things about Stasi, but how much of it wasn’t simply an expression of Germans’ character? There is still no freedom of speech in Germany, except now they also have ape-faces dumped on their streets.

Mentoring Vs Cuckoldry

Illegitimacy is the product of alien cultural subversion in the case of European Americans, while it is a return to the default state in muds.  — Matt King

If a mudshark asked you to help her move, would you wag your tail “Sure! when do you want me there?” Or would you laugh, at least in your thoughts, as you politely blow her off: You like blak dik, blak dik can help you move. Cuckoldry takes many forms, but they all reduce to one thing: harnessing one man’s value in service to another’s seed.

Mentoring someone is one of the most satisfying things you can do. Here is an illustration. I headed a project that was considered a big deal. People in high places took active interest in its progress. A young man was assigned to assist me. He introduced himself and I was impressed. Right out of college, strong voice, respectful but at ease around top brass. Every high-quality 19-year-old girl in America needs to be locking him in.

I sent him out to do something that required him to make judgment calls. The result exceeded my expectations. Which was good, because I was responsible for the ultimate outcome, and what he did helped things move along nicely.

There are two key differences between a pro and a newb. One, the pro does things fast. Two, the pro effectively handles any complication that inevitably occurs, big or small, even a potentially catastrophic one, while barely breaking stride. There is always a workaround.

And a complication did happen. At the worst moment, something I had a routine backup plan for, but the backup plan was null because it too was affected by this unexpected turn of events. We were working late, just the two of us. He looks nervous and says: “Oh damn, we’re fucked…” My pulse was low and slow. Some part of me — mind you, I’ve been doing this for years — got giddy: Oh cool, a puzzle to solve! I thought for a minute and when I had the lay of the land, I told him: “We have two options. Plan A is optimal but not so certain. Plan B is sub-optimal but it’s a sure thing. Let’s start with Plan A.”

Plan A worked. The whole thing was a success. We shook hands and I expressed my sincere appreciation of his work. Later I passed a good word about him where it matters. He said “I learned a lot from you, thank you.” That’s what I mean about mentoring someone being one of the most satisfying things you can do. It can also be informal and involve minimal effort. For example, you can teach a kid how to throw a spiral.

But as I like to say, it’s not worth it unless it’s yours. Define “yours”?

I’ll leave that up to you.

As every boy sooner or later learns, life is not supposed to be easy. But the payoff is that with every bruise and accomplishment, you acquire value. And literally, the most meaningful way in which you can give life to your experience is through passing it on to your son. On another level, you are a member of a community. This means that your experience is part of the collective wealth: you have something you can teach someone who is worth your time.

And the passing along of that capital to someone you have no kinship with and whose face is not the face of your people is cuckoldry on more than purely metaphoric level. Especially if your labors are in service to a rival demographic. The system that seeks to replace our sons with theirs knows its assets, and you’re one of those assets. We have the Ace card.

Illegitimacy, as goes the quote at the top of this post, is both a boon and a liability for the globalist. Coloreds’ weak paternal instincts make them easy to control, perfect slaves. But those qualities go with defects such as incompetence, which is why the enemy eyeballs your attributes the same way it leers at a White woman’s ass: Will you give your Ace card to your replacement? They already flashed up a Great White Father example for you in Clint Eastwood’s “Gran Torino” character:

This (in)famous scene in Gran Torino titillated racists but something sat ill with me. It’s where Clint Eastwood’s character chased off a group of blacks who were intimidating a whigger and his Hmong girlfriend. And I figured out what it was: filicide.

It would have been better if Eastwood had told the boy to also get into the truck. After they dropped the girl off at her house, he should have said: “Son, you’re gonna help me change the oil in my Torino.”

They want you to mentor fatherless brown boys who should be in their ancestral countries and with their own fathers, not with you and not here.

See the ads below, not one depicting an older man passing his experience on to a boy who looks like he once did. So, assuming that these ads aren’t a front for something much more vile… barforama.