“Dispatches from a Besieged City”

Here is a fragment from Zbigniew Herbert’s poem “Dispatches from a Besieged City” (orig. “Raport z oblężonego Miasta”). Herbert wrote this poem during Poland’s 1981-1983 Martial Law as an allegory for that event, using imagery from the 1939 siege of Warsaw and the 1944 Uprising to tell a larger story of nations that are under attack. Do we know of any nations that are under attack today?

Translated excerpts from Herbert’s poem:

Too old to carry a weapon and fight like the others —
I was assigned by their grace the chronicler’s role
I write — do not know for whom — about the siege
I have to be exact but I do not know when the raid precisely began
two hundred years ago last December September maybe yesterday at dawn
all of us here ail of the loss of the sense of time
I write as well as I can to the rhythm of endless weeks
Monday: the warehouses are empty the rat became a unit of currency
Tuesday: the mayor has been murdered by unknown perpetrators
Wednesday: talks of a ceasefire the enemy interned our emissaries
we don’t know of their whereabouts read: their place of slaughter
Thursday: after a stormy meeting the majority rejected
the spice merchants’ proposal for unconditional surrender
Friday: the beginning of plague Saturday: N.N. the steadfast defender
committed suicide Sunday: no water we repelled an attack at the Eastern Gate
in the evening I like to wander around the borders of the City
along the borders of our uncertain freedom
I look down at the ant heaps of their troops their lights
I listen to the noise of the drums the barbaric screams


(The full original poem is HERE. Przemysław Gintrowski interprets the poem musically HERE.)

The selected passages above feature a speaker who reports on the everyday conditions of the siege in a resigned and matter-of-fact way. Herbert then shifts the speaker’s tone, over the course of several additional free-verse stanzas, into bitterness and then anger upon noting the ghastly precociousness of the city’s children.

Herbert’s speaker then reaches an epiphany to resist despite the lack of hope. He gets there by connecting his situation to that of history’s other besieged people who have always been ignored, or at best condescendingly pitied, by the rest of the world. He concludes that defending the real and the metaphoric ruins is all that’s left to do.


In his Harvard lectures that he later compiled and published in a volume titled “The Witness of Poetry,” Czesław Miłosz said that in reading the scribbled notes of concentration camp inmates, he noticed that it was not educated adults, but rather children who most vividly described their conditions.

One of the worst thing a child can feel is a recognition that he is abandoned by trusted adults. And in thinking about cities under siege from a child’s — or in this case a teenage girl’s — point of view, see a German girl’s now-famous YouTube video, which was banned from Facebook. The brave 16-year-old girl, named Bibi Wilhailm, makes a heartfelt appeal for help. She also denounces the adults and authority figures who have abandoned her to the terror of the refugees.

Her video is at the end of this post. Here is a transcript of her words from the English subtitles:

16 y/o German girl talks about muslim immigration, destruction of her own country (Engl. subs)   [title of the YouTube video]

Hello, you can read the newspapers but this video is about the real situation in Germany. I would like to tell everyone about this on Youtube and Facebook. I am almost 16. I would like everyone to know what is going on, what I am authentically feeling at this moment.

And I am so scared everywhere. For example, if my family and I go out together, or if I see a movie with my friends. Usually I stay at home, but sometimes I stay out until 6 pm in winter, and it is so scary. It is just very hard to live day-to-day life as a woman.

I just want to say that I am not a racist. But one day, a terrible thing happened at the supermarket. I ran all the way home. I was so frightened for my life. There’s no other way to describe it.

My aunt and her friend have said you have to grow up. Why should we, children, have to grow up in such fear? It’s not just me, my friends too. You can see on Facebook, a 17 year old attacked, a 15 year old attacked, two 12-year olds attacked, so many. It is really so sad that this is happening … because of YOU PEOPLE.

I cannot understand why they do this. But more importantly, I cannot understand why Germany is doing nothing! Why is Germany standing by, watching, and then doing nothing? Please explain, why. Men of Germany, these people are killing your children, they are killing your women. We need your protection. We are so scared, we don’t want to be frightened to go to the grocery store alone after sunset. The politicians live alone in their villas, drink their cocktails, and do nothing. They do nothing! I do not know what world they live in, but please, people, please help us! Please, do something! I cannot understand why this is happening. One day, my friend and I were walking down the street, and a group of Arabs were protesting and demonstrating. They shouted, “Allah! Allah! Allah is the one God! Kill those infidels! Allah Allah!” What should I do? Should I wear a burka? Why should I have to convert to Islam?

It’s fine if you believe in Allah, but why do you want to make everyone else believe in Allah too? I just think it would be better if there were no religion. Stop trying to make everyone else believe in your God when they do not want to.

Please, people of Germany. Do something!

When I try to tell the authorities about what has happened, they hold their hand up towards me and they say it is a problem and then ignore it. and they laugh. It is unfair. They laugh at us. They say we are dumb. They think this not only of me, but of the entire state of Germany. They don’t care about our fear. Please help us. This is an emergency! There are more and more of them.

One time in summer, the Muslims said we were sluts for walking outside in a t-shirt.

Yes, we were wearing t-shirts. It’s summer!

Another day, I was wearing this. My friend and I purchased it while shopping hehe. If we feel like wearing it, we will wear it! And you Muslims have no right to physically assault or rape us for it! God willing, never in my life. You have no right to attack us because we are wearing t-shirts. You also have no right to rape.

The life of Germany has changed because these people cannot integrate. We give them so much help. We support them financially and they do not have to work. But they only want more babies and more welfare and more money. Men of Germany, please, patrol the streets and protect us. Do this for your women and your children. If you do that, I believe that we will have a chance.

This sort of action would be wonderful. We would be so grateful and thankful. So many thanks, if steadily, more men would come to protect us. We are so scared.

I am so upset about what Merkel has done.

Thank you, Angela Merkel, for killing Germany! I have no more respect for you, Merkel. I do not think you know what you have done. You do not see how our lives have changed. Open your eyes! Is this normal? Should I, a 16-year old who is almost 17, be so scared to walk outside my house? No, it is not normal. You have killed Germany!

This is the truth. We are no longer allowed to walk outside. We are no longer allowed to wear our clothes. We are no longer allowed to live the German life. This is the sad truth.

I think it’s about time to end this video. I believe I have given a full account from a normal person. I hope others can see this and understand.

I only want to end with one message: Men, please, help your women. Help your children. I am so scared. My friends have the same fear. We are shocked that this has happened. I hope this video can convince you, and that this terrible events can stop.

Is the Mulatto the New Superman?

“But what if our child inherits my body and your brains?”
– Attributed to George Bernard Shaw, his riposte to a shapely dancer’s eugenically-flavored proposition.

The title of this post is in jest, but this post’s amicable spirit toward the long-time commenter and occasional pain-in-the-ass whose handle is an anagram of “Trickin” is in earnest. My man Trickin has been both lurking and commenting on the fringes of Alt-Right’s discussions for years and it’s high time to address his contrarian point of view.

To readers unfamiliar with him: Trickin describes himself as a forty-something former rock-n-roll scene journalist, now comfortably settled in the frozen mid-West. Most apropos our interests, he also notes that he is a biracial American man, the son of a Black father and a White mother, an outlier in that he grew up in a happy upper-middle-class home with both parents. So without further ado, let’s meet Trickin:


Not Trickin

No, that’s not him, I just couldn’t resist because this is how I imagine him to appear, his protestations notwithstanding. I actually have no idea what he looks like.

The original impetus behind this post is a meme that society pushes, and one that Trickin himself occasionally advances with varying degrees of seriousness, namely the melding of the European mind with the African body through intermarriage as evolution’s direction toward a superior new man.

There is a time for dialectic on miscegenation that encompasses one’s feelings about it, as well as an objective analysis of its viability. But I am not doing that in this post. Rather, my aim in this post is to acknowledge and try to grok Trickin’s perspective on his biracial identity. He wrote something recently to poignant effect:

there is a sorta purely physical aesthetic imagining that comes back repeatedly; a sorta idealized figure that i’m sure is tied to my id and history —- a halfrican with appealing features that nonetheless cover the vastness of its essential being…. I have some haunts along this line of personal inquiry; such a figure just might not be a pure figment in terms of me and my past.

You may now be wondering about this idealized Halfrican physiognomy. Trickin may have already given us a hint. He has asserted — in earlier denials of the photo at the top of this post — that he looks similar to a former NBA player, pictured here:


Trickin’s doppleganger?

That’s not a bad looking fellow. I have no reason to doubt Trickin’s claim and if true, then it would appear that he has drawn well in genetic card-dealing. In magnanimous detachment, I ventured to accept, as a thought experiment, the Mischling as an integral part of the continuum of our own communities.

But then I saw three things in the real world: a young White woman one evening, she walked lightly. The streetlamp’s glow kissed her flowing hair and caressed her shoulder. A birthday party full of White children playing. Their bright faces were God’s own joy. A White man, his solid face and clear eyes, and I knew that I am looking at the only man in this world whom I can trust.

There is the world of the European man, with its aspirational supremacy, and in that world there is little room for impure blood. And there is also, as confessed by Trickin, an idealized home aligned with his Mulatto identity, implicitly one with its own standards of purity. Like two free men who visit each other’s worlds but then part ways, the European returns home and so does the Halfrican head for his own.

But where does the biracial man go? The one who got the best of both heritages is free to enjoy this moment in history among Whites as an interesting stranger. But once he tires of Circe’s feast and is back at sea, he becomes like Odysseus but with no crew and with no Ithaca, on open water between the unreachable light of Europe and the wild call of Africa.

On White Knighting

“Listen, Stan, don’t deal in death lightly, but if someone threatens your homeland, the life of your mother, sister or the life of a woman placed in your care, put a bullet in his head with no questions asked and don’t burden yourself with any remorse.”

Henryk Sienkiewicz, “In the Desert and the Wilderness” (1910)

“So I Could Look Myself in the Mirror”

A young woman sat in front of me and opened a book as the subway rolled underground in predawn hours. It was a real book, not even Kindle, much less an iPhone. At the next station, a very large and visibly intoxicated Black guy gets on the train and wobbles through the car, hazily surveying the empty seats. Then purpose flashes in the cloudy soup of his eyes; he beelines toward our end of the car and takes the seat immediately in front of me, next to that girl with a book. He wasn’t a hobo; he looked more like a construction worker coming down from an all-night drinking bender. The smell of alcohol fills the air.

If his presence next to her made her nervous, or if she stiffened her body, I couldn’t tell. She kept reading as he sat there glancing at her face, gears in his head slowly turning. Predictably as sunrise, he grins and says “hey guuurl, whatcha reading?” She answers politely, with uptalk. Meanwhile the train stops at various stations and I wonder, “Why isn’t this idiot girl getting off and waiting for the next train?” Maybe it’s her feminine instinct: it’s early, there are no people on platforms and it’s safer on the train than if he were to follow her out at a station. Or maybe it’s her obliviousness to a threat.

I take stock the situation. He is sitting right in front of me. My glasses go into my pocket. I memorize the car number printed on the end door. Then ask myself, will I do anything if he starts pawing at her? I have no interest, in the slightest, in being a hero on her account. There are those who they need me alive, to hell with some chick who probably voted for Obama and is not likely having White children soon. I have no obligation to her. But then the words “look myself in the mirror the next day” run through my mind. She seems like a nice girl. The decision is made — I will.

So on to tactical planning: number one, I’ve won serious fights as an adult but it’s clear that I’d have no chance against him on account of the sheer difference in our size and weight. Do nothing unless he touches her. If he does, I will grab his neck in a wrestling choke. No half-ass about it. Balls to the wall until he passes out or else he will overpower me. Survey the car: there is a handful of other passengers but nobody to count on for assistance. The girl, another woman, a thin older man, and a young guy who doesn’t seem likely to be of much use. On the plus side, there is nobody here who would interfere on the drunk’s behalf. There is another Black man in the car, but he is a pudgy Talented Tenth with a gentle face.

The train stops at my station. I exit and tell the station manager about a drunk passenger aggressively bothering people. I describe him and provide the car number. The station manager’s face is serious and he gets on the phone.

Casting Pearls before Swine — or Sacrificing a Good Man for a Pig

There was a news report about a young woman who attempted suicide by jumping out of a window. Standing on the street below, her boyfriend tried to catch her. Landing on him, she lived but he died. If I had the power right now, then I would — without any doubt about the rightness of what I am doing — reverse their fates so that the young man lives and she dies. The loss of a self-evidently quality man was not, in this example of personal sacrifice, duly recompensed with the prolonged life of a selfish, neurotic attention-whore.

Elaborating on the subject of wasting good men for less-than-worthy women, Matt Forney recently featured a guest post from a blogger named Kyle, titled “Men Aren’t Fighting for Women Anymore, and Why Should They?” Kyle has no illusions about the revealed dispensability of men in modern West. He knows about the contempt in which all of our institutions hold us while expecting our sacrifice. He is clear-eyed about the broken social agreement, one that obligates both sexes toward both self-restraint and self-sacrifice in the interest of the common good. Kyle writes:

I don’t want it this way, but it’s simply the harsh reality of the situation. In today’s age of shunning men, extreme female promiscuity, and generally degenerate culture (celebrity worship, obesity, rape culture, etc.), why would men rush to jump in front of a bullet for a Western woman?

As Kyle heavily qualifies in his post, it is proper to sacrifice oneself for a family member or a friend. And as I would also add, for a child and for one’s own standards of honor. Those qualifications aside, I applaud Kyle’s alert cynicism and his insight into today’s one-way arrow of duty between men and women.

Can These Castrati at Least Sing?

Here is the LINK to the story. Dutch men put on mini-skirts to support victims of sex attacks. My appeal to somebody in the Netherlands: please beat them with wet rubber hoses.


My appeal to these misguided boys in miniskirts: you were born and raised during Europe’s outburst of effeminate madness. Your Northern soul seeks the truth and strives for righteousness, but everything you believe is a lie. The truth is that your undignified unmanning fails to protect even one Dutch woman. In fact, it has the exact opposite effect, in that your self-inflicted beclowning emboldens the savages that have been pumped into your country. Furthermore, when a Dutch girl sees you parading about like this, her disgust with an Arab’s grope becomes milder than her revulsion at the thought of your caress.

The Hero of Cologne

Via the UK Daily Mail, Ivan Jurcevic is a 44-year-old Croat and a former kickboxing champion. He was working in Cologne as a hotel doorman and on New Year’s Eve 2015 he saved two German women from a mob of “rapefugees.” He said:

‘There were four of them, young men in their 20s, speaking Arabic. They told me not to interfere, that the girls were “theirs”.

‘The girls looked like they worked in a bank, they were wearing jeans and coats, nothing provocative, they were really frightened. I told them to stand behind me.’

‘Then the loudest member of the gang came at me with a bottle so I kicked him in the chest and sent him flying. Another came at me so I slapped him across the face and he went over as well.

‘The leader drew his finger across his throat and told me he would be back to kill me. I stood my ground and they went on their way.’


Ivan Jurcevic

Men have biographies, women have grandchildren. You will look back at your one shot at life and you will ask yourself: did I earn the right to stand next to Jurcevic? Most of us are not seven-foot-tall martial artists, but we all make decisions that reflect on our quality as men. Do you know what you believe in and do you stand up for it?

Valor for Virtue: “Jeans and Coats, Nothing Provocative”

White knighting is a derivative of a social contract wherein men’s valor is exchanged for women’s virtue. Chivalry was never a one-way street; that would have been called “cuckoldry.” A chivalrous knight defended the lady — but he also scorned the whore and had his adulterous wife beheaded.

Jurcevic’s account from Cologne, which I quote above, reveals the traditionalist mindset: “the girls looked like they worked in a bank, they were wearing jeans and coats, nothing provocative.” He not only just triggered a thousand Slut Marches, he drew the difference between girls who merit masculine protection, and ones who do not. And recalling the Sienkiewicz quote at the top of this post, a recent comment by reader Peterike comes to mind:

It was all about the homeland and the women. I guess a threat to one’s self doesn’t need explaining, but it needs more consideration to kill in that case. But threaten my nation or the women and it’s over for you. Such healthy attitudes! Today, as immigrant hordes threaten our nation and quite actively assault our women, we sit supine.

Men secure the present through our provision and protection. Women secure the future through the children they bear us. For the equation of mutual duty to work, men are expected to be valorous and women virtuous. That’s the two-way arrow of obligation that gave women priority for lifeboats on the Titanic.

A reversal of our decline will begin when we White men affirm our responsibilities to our women and reassert our expectations of them, pulling together those scattered links of interdependence. The women of Europe are afraid and maybe Merkel’s deluge is Providence handing us an opportunity reclaim what is ours.

Orban Calls for the End of the Liberal Era

And proposes a new, democratic era. As Hungary’s prime minister makes it clear in his speech, the prevailing liberal order is globalization with a patina of Enlightenment universalism masking its authoritarian impulses. The democratic era, as Orban envisions it in the European context, would be guided by the Christian spirit and national identity of sovereign nations.

Reader Ensuite forwarded the 31-minute video at the bottom of this post. It is an abridged version of Viktor Orbán’s nearly 60-minute long speech at the Fidesz party convention in December 2015. The video is subtitled in English and in this post I’m citing its select parts. The following passage is Orban’s call to the leaders of the European Union:

We suggest a return to democratic Europe. Instead of today’s Europe of weak leaders, to a Europe of strong people. The next European era will either be an era of democracy, or it will cease to exist. The time has come. We are living in a different world. Twenty eight nations cannot work according to the same rules that six countries were able to work with.

Ethnically homogeneous states are more likely to work on behalf of their people because they do not preside over a mix of ethnic groups with irreconcilable conflicts of interest. Viktor Orban touches on the difference between having a national government, versus living under an imperial arrangement as either a lord or a vassal nation:

We do not want to be the ruler nor the subject, nor the caretaker nor the dependent, of other peoples.

Imagine, having a country of your own. Hungarians don’t have to imagine, they already have a country. One key condition for having one’s own country is a government that in word and deed strives to secure a future for its people:

Just think about the immigration issue…. Our politics are exclusively Hungary- friendly politics. Our major goal is the support of Hungarian families… For us, families and to-be-born children mean the future of Hungary and Europe.

He then connects Hungary’s fate to Europe’s:

We cannot effectively speak of our homeland’s situation without speaking of Europe’s situation… Europe is under an invasion. In the depths, a parallel world is being built, which slowly but surely, step by step, according to the laws of nature, will push back and squeeze our world into a minority, and together with that ourselves, our children, and our grandchildren too. If this continues, we will lose Europe… what is happening is not an accident. It is not an unintended chain of events, but a planned and controlled process.

Although I am not including that particular line, he calls out George Soros in all ways but by name in the above passage. He then closes in on the attribute of Europe’s malaise:

The true, fatal disease endangering Europe is … of a spiritual nature… Europe does not acknowledge itself.

The European spirit, and her people believe in superficial and secondary things. Human rights, progress, openness, new sorts of families, tolerance. Those are nice things, but in reality they are secondary because they are only derivatives. Yes, today Europe believes in secondary things, but it does not believe in the things from which these originate. It does not believe in Christianity. It does not believe in common sense. It does not believe in military strength. And it does not believe in national pride. It does not believe in what created it, and what it once was. It does not believe in it, it won’t stand up for itself, it won’t debate, it won’t fight, and it ultimately won’t make sacrifices for it.

It does not want to think or speak about who it really is. And after not acknowledging itself, it does not acknowledge any differentiation, either. And by not differentiating itself from others, it will consequentially lose itself. But it’s clearer than the sun that Europe is ancient Hellas, not Persia. Rome, not Carthage. Christianity, not the Caliphate.

And finally, the speech builds toward its coup de grâce, Orban’s call to close the era of liberalism; I only provide short excerpts below. Be sure to listen the whole speech and note the large soul and the generous spirit in which Orban makes his proposal:

The past 25 years of our lives was a major liberal era in Europe. It had nice periods, good results. It had major moments, and momentous figures. We can rejoice to have personally known them. Today, however liberal politics has lost its power of attraction. It piles failures upon failures. It has tired out and become exhausted. … it’s unable to protect people from external and internal dangers. Not from immigration, terrorism, nor crime.

It has stiffened and become monomaniacal. It senses enemies everywhere. It’s angry if its belief system is questioned. It’s exasperated when it hears new ideas, and it’s aggressive when one references the will of the people against it. It has lost its connection with reality. Instead of debates, it wants to censor public speech. And so it has developed the stop signs and regulations of political correctness.

All I am saying is that we have reached a point where today politics has turned against freedom. It has turned against freedom of thought, speech, and media. Consequently, it has turned against people and democracy…

I belong to those who want to live the next 1,000 years as Hungarians in a Christian Europe. In the interest of this — no matter how painful it is to certain politicians in Brussels — we must close down this era! In a political and in a spiritual sense as well. I believe that we, all of us, think that our lives are only meaningful, only have weight when we serve something greater and more important than our own lives. For example, our family, our homeland, or perhaps God’s country. Maybe all three at once.


“Welcome to Hell, Stray Lambs”

The are three types of political street demonstrations in the contemporary Western context, each a function of a different type relationship between the state and its citizens:

  • Type 1 Protest: A ritualistic humiliation of the state’s internal enemies.
  • Type 2 Protest: A show of solidarity between the people and the state against an external enemy.
  • Type 3 Protest: A people’s challenge to the legitimacy of the state.

Type 1 Protest — “Hey Hey, Ho Ho…”

This is the type of protest in which the participants are jubilant and cocky, visibly having a good time. Participating in this kind of a demonstration is risk-free with regards to legal consequences, especially considering how destructive those protests can wind up being. I happened upon one of those demonstrations last year while walking down 14th Street just east of the White House. The procession looked something like this:


It was about fifty #BlackLivesMatter demonstrators marching, with several police cars slowly trailing them. The chanting was a spirited call-and-response. I have to give Blacks’ this: they are good at the clappy-rhythmy thing. I couldn’t get the chants out of my head for a while. If you didn’t know any better, you would believe that marching people were righteously angry, judging by their furious voices and wild faces. But we know better: it was all self-indulgence and theater, like the histrionics of an “American Idol” hopeful channeling Aretha Franklin.

Porter over on his Kakistocracy blog nails this attitude in his inimitable style:

Blacks don’t hold a monopoly on solipsistic meanderings, though they certainly make a market. […] It’s like hearing a child lecturing to play-doh figures. The latter being mute objects whose value and morality is judged by the extent they serve the speaker’s ends. There’s only one beautiful creature owed deference by the world. And I don’t just mean TaNehisiCoates.

There is no real anger among American blacks because America is their paradise. No other group of people in history had been given so much privilege on so little merit, short of maybe old Egyptian sun-gods. Anger is a very serious and dangerous thing; frivolous demonstrations of something that resembles anger are just play-acting.

With its fake indignation, the Type 1 protest purports to oppose the system, but it is in fact aligned with that system. Even when those protests get overly exuberant and cause loss of life and destruction of property, they never threaten the system itself or even risk much of a backlash when establishment press provides public relations cover.

This is the template for a standard left wing protest in Western countries. Other versions of this melodramatic freak show are Slut Walks or college campus rallies over a triviality. A Type 1 protest can look like a celebration or a tantrum, but whatever its form and tone, it affirms the state’s rule by humiliating any active or potential opponents of the state’s ideology. The Ferguson riots were essentially American establishment’s victory dance over traditional notions of community and property rights, all under the umbrella of Obama administration’s apocalyptic enmity to White America. At its core, the Type 1 protest is a by-proxy display of the establishment’s vigilance against internal threats to the system.

Type 2 Protest — “Welcome to Hell, Stray Lambs”

In this scenario, the protestors are secure in their relationship with the state but to reference writer Anonymous Conservative, their K-selected instincts are triggered by a perceived external threat. Nationalist and anti-migrant marches in east/central European countries belong to this category.

Europe has a knife to its throat but paradoxically, it is the countries that are under less immediate peril that are raising alarms more loudly and clearly. Hungary and Poland have next to no migrant population, and yet it is there that we see the most spirited demonstrations, most notably an estimated 50,000 nationalists marching through Warsaw on November 11, 2015. But it is not paradoxical at all, once you understand that people protest more confidently when they know that their government and police are on their side.

Given the large scope of this subject, I will limit my examples here to banners at football (soccer) stadiums. The following banner says “Protect your women — not our democracy” in English. The banner was unfurled by Polish spectators at a men’s volleyball game in Berlin in response to the EU’s threat of sanctions over Poland’s new right wing government and it refers to the New Year’s Eve migrant attacks on German women in Cologne. The message here is “fuck off, Germany.”


And the banner below — the namesake for this post — says “Welcome to Hell, Stray Lambs.” Consistent with Type 2 protests, its message is aggressive rather than defensive. The message here is “expect no mercy, invaders.”


Finally, HERE is a short video that features explicitly-worded anti-invader chants at Polish soccer stadiums, with English subtitles. It gets really good at the 2:10 mark.

What all of these examples have in common is an aggressive confidence of a Type 1 protest with the seriousness which those lack. The Type 2 protest is a warning, a guard dog’s growl in the interest of averting unnecessary bloodshed. It is a populist show of solidarity between the people and an acknowledgment of confidence in their authorities. Nominally, the riot police were out in Warsaw during those massive demonstrations, but there was no sense of antagonism between the protesters and the state. The show of strength is addressed to potential external threats.

Type 3 Protest — “Where Were You?!”

Type 3 protests arise under prerevolutionary conditions. They are potentially a genuine threat to the authorities because they are a symptom of the state’s loss of its legitimacy in face of people’s increasingly implacable grievances. Once the perception of legitimacy goes, all it takes is a push.

The short video below is what motivated me to write this post. It shows a small group of young German men aggressively confronting the police over their failure to keep security in Cologne on past New Year’s Eve, but instead amassing at a subsequent nationalist rally. There is a quality in this protest that is normally absent in Type 1 and Type 2 demonstrations, which you will see and hear in this 13-second clip:

It’s in the protestors’ voices and body language. Look at the man in the center-front of the crowd, his tense and jerky movements like a coiled snake that is still afraid to strike. He is overcome with emotion but restraining himself from lunging at the police. He and his fellow protestors are chanting “Wo, wo, wo wart ihr Silvesternacht!”, or “Where, where, where were you on New Year’s Eve.”

The overwhelming emotion in this protest is the rueful hurt of a man who just realized that he has been betrayed by those he trusted, similar to a man who just caught his wife in an act of infidelity. A government that wants to remain in power best take these people’s grievances seriously. Those German protesters are more dangerous to the regime, insofar as them being an indication of serious problems of legitimacy, than a blocks-long street march of confident people with banners.

Europe 2016: Where to from here?

“To say that democracy in Poland is in peril is ridiculous, to put it mildly. If anyone in Europe should be concerned for their freedom, it is the citizens in the West. If there is any place where political correctness and criminal law prohibit speech, it is not in Poland.”
-Jarosław Kaczyński, chairman of Poland’s governing Law and Justice party

When you humiliate a man, he remembers it forever. The leaders of Western European countries are doing just that. In an unprovoked act of genocide-scale aggression, these governments and institutions are imposing on their people a fight-or-flight condition with nowhere to flee. People have picked up the scent of malice.

It does not appear that the usurper elites, in their arrogance, had thought this through. They rely on state security forces to suppress a reaction but they don’t seem to have considered a scenario in which policemen remove their helmets and join the protestors like Slovak riot police did last year at an anti-immigration march.

Members of Europe’s ruling class and their servants are betting on a comfortable life among Ahmed’s sons in Tahrir Square writ-large, with Johann’s sons protecting them from savagery of the sort that Lara Logan experienced. They keep building that world, all the while running up a bill of scores for Johann’s sons to settle.


The Office Manager’s Sign, 2016


The manager of a professional office places on the wall of the break room, among the fliers and announcements, a poster with people of different races working together on a project and the slogan: “Celebrate Diversity.” Why does he do it? What is he trying to communicate to the world? Is he genuinely enthusiastic about the idea of racial diversity among employees? Is his enthusiasm so great that he feels an irrepressible impulse to acquaint the public with his ideals? Has he really given more than a moment’s thought to how such a celebration might occur and what it would mean?

I think it can safely be assumed that the overwhelming majority of office managers never think about the slogans they put on their walls, nor do they use them to express their real opinions. That poster was delivered to our manager from the enterprise headquarters along with the pens and coffee packets. He put it on the wall simply because it has been done that way for years, because everyone does it, and because that is the way it has to be. If he were to refuse, there could be trouble. He could be reproached for not having the proper decoration on the break room wall; someone might even accuse him of racism. He does it because these things must be done if one is to get along in life. It is one of the thousands of details that guarantee him a relatively tranquil life; it is “socially responsible,” as they say.

Obviously the manager is indifferent to the semantic content of the slogan on exhibit; he does not put the slogan on the wall from any personal desire to acquaint the public with the ideal it expresses. This, of course, does not mean that his action has no motive or significance at all, or that the slogan communicates nothing to anyone. The slogan is really a sign, and as such it contains a subliminal but very definite message. Verbally, it might be expressed this way: “I, the manager XY, work here and I know what I must do. I behave in the manner expected of me. I can be depended upon and am beyond reproach. I am obedient and therefore I have the right to be left in peace.” This message, of course, has an addressee: it is directed above, to the manager’s superior, and at the same time it is a shield that protects the manager from potential complaints. The slogan’s real meaning, therefore, is rooted firmly in the manager’s existence. It reflects his vital interests. But what are those vital interests?

Let us take note: if the manager had been instructed to display the slogan “I am afraid and therefore unquestioningly obedient,” he would not be nearly as indifferent to its semantics, even though the statement would reflect the truth. The manager would be embarrassed and ashamed to put such an unequivocal statement of his own degradation on the office wall, and quite naturally so, for he is a human being and thus has a sense of his own dignity. To overcome this complication, his expression of loyalty must take the form of a sign which, at least on its textual surface, indicates a level of disinterested conviction. It must allow the manager to say, “What’s wrong with celebrating diversity?” Thus the sign helps the manager to conceal from himself the low foundations of his obedience, at the same time concealing the low foundations of power. It hides them behind the facade of something high. And that something is ideology.

Ideology is a specious way of relating to the world. It offers human beings the illusion of an identity, of dignity, and of morality while making it easier for them to part with them. As the repository of something suprapersonal and objective, it enables people to deceive their conscience and conceal their true position and their inglorious modus vivendi, both from the world and from themselves. It is a very pragmatic but, at the same time, an apparently dignified way of legitimizing what is above, below, and on either side. It is directed toward people and toward God. It is a veil behind which human beings can hide their own fallen existence, their trivialization, and their adaptation to the status quo. It is an excuse that everyone can use, from the office manager, who conceals his fear of losing his job behind an alleged interest in diversity being celebrated, to the highest executive, whose interest in staying in power can be cloaked in phrases about inclusion. The primary excusatory function of ideology, therefore, is to provide people, both as victims and pillars of the post-totalitarian system, with the illusion that the system is in harmony with the human order and the order of the universe.

The post-totalitarian system touches people at every step, but it does so with its ideological gloves on. This is why life in the system is so thoroughly permeated with hypocrisy and lies: government by bureaucracy is called popular government; the working class is enslaved in the name of the working class; the complete degradation of the individual is presented as his ultimate liberation; depriving people of information is called making it available; the use of power to manipulate is called the public control of power, and the arbitrary abuse of power is called observing the legal code; the repression of culture is called its development; the expansion of imperial influence is presented as support for the oppressed; the lack of free expression becomes the highest form of freedom; farcical elections become the highest form of democracy; banning independent thought becomes the most scientific of world views; military occupation becomes fraternal assistance. Because the regime is captive to its own lies, it must falsify everything. It falsifies the past. It falsifies the present, and it falsifies the future. It falsifies statistics. It pretends not to possess an omnipotent and unprincipled police apparatus. It pretends to respect human rights. It pretends to persecute no one. It pretends to fear nothing. It pretends to pretend nothing. 

[This post was inspired by Vaclav Havel’s “greengrocer’s sign” metaphor from his 1979 essay “The Power of the Powerless.” See my comment in the thread below for a clarification on the authorship and the original language of the above excerpt.]

Assessing Your Place on the Hierarchy

“know thyself”
– Inscription on the temple of Apollo at Delphi, 4th c. B.C.

The discussion of Vox Day’s male sociosexual hierarchy continues. I find writing about this subject enjoyable for two reasons. One, it’s fun because it appeals to the analytical mind. And two, readers can find these concepts useful toward self-improvement. On that second point, I want to give the reader who is either unsatisfied with his social performance or is simply introspective a chance to take stock of his character. My aim here is similar to the one in my earlier “Be the Boss” three-part series, also a guide for men who are underperforming.

Ranking Yourself on the Vox Day Scale

Be honest with yourself in order to know yourself. The human ego is powerful force and it can get in the way of improvement if it thwarts candor in front of your mirror. So what I drafted below is a simple tool for assessing yourself based on the objective feedback you get in social interactions, instead of relying on your subjective opinion of yourself, which you might inflate.

Which one of the following templates best describes people’s posture toward you?  Family and friends don’t count. An insouciant Gamma among lesser Gammas will strut like an Alpha but will still fold in any competitive social environment outside of his in-group.

Alpha: Strong, masculine men look to you for guidance and leadership in all things. Young beautiful women always explode with uncontrollable indicators of interest in your presence regardless of your age and with minimal effort on your part. (This describes 1-3% of all men.)

Sigma: Powerful, impressive men are on guard around you until they start showing you grudging respect, even deference. All women eyeball you with fascination without you having to do anything. (1-3% of men)

Beta: Everybody at the party gravitates to you. First-tier, beautiful women will chat with you but it would take effort for you to seduce one. Average women will show obvious interest in you. (10% of men)

Delta: All kinds of men enjoy a conversation with you. When you talk, they look like they take you seriously. Cute women are friendly with you. With some effort, you can get a nice-looking regular girl. First-tier women are out of your reach. (65% of men)

There is wide variance among Deltas, since they represent such a large number of men. High Deltas do very well with above-average women, being almost Betas. Low Deltas struggle even with unattractive women.

Gamma: All kinds of men show impatience, irritation, or contempt toward you when they should be impressed with you. Women don’t appreciate you. (10% of men and sadly, growing)

Omega: Men avoid you. Women are nervous around you if they happen to notice that you exist. (Bottom 5% of men)

Lambda: You like cock. (3-5% of males)

Statistically speaking, you are probably a Delta. Congratulations, you made it through childhood and youth in an anti-male culture and yet here you are a mature, healthy man. I like how reader JumpinJackFash puts it:

I think most men vastly overestimate their rank. […] a big part of reaching adulthood is being comfortable in your own skin. I no longer feel like pleasing everybody and I am quite happy to be on my own which my work allows me to do.

An Important Aside: the Chateau Heartiste Scale

There are two different scales, and a note about Chateau Heartiste’s (CH) sexual market value ranking system is indicated. The Vox Day (VD) scale I’m using here is a measure of man’s absolute, context-independent suite of character traits; his essential socio-sexual wiring. In contrast, the Heartiste scale (also referred to as the Alpha-Beta-Omega scale) is a reading of a man’s power — by any means — to elicit sexual attraction in desirable women, itself a proxy for his masculinity.

Unlike with Vox’s sysem, Heartiste’s scale can be situational. For example, by Vox’s measure, John Lennon was a Gamma regardless of his station in life, and his inner life as well as his relations with his peers bore it out. However, by Heartiste’s scale Lennon was a super-alpha by virtue of his fame and its power over women; he had no lack of willing girls and there is still a well-attended shrine devoted to him in Central Park near West 72nd Street.

Thus, both scales correctly quantify that which they seek to appraise; however, in the example of Lennon the divergence between the two scales is an extreme case, caused by the perception-distorting effect of his fame. In fact, plenty of celebrities or otherwise powerful men in law and politics are Gammas who struck it rich, so to speak. But in ordinary cases, the two scales align as follows:

  • VD’s Alpha, Sigma, Beta = CH’s Alpha
  • VD’s Delta, Gamma = CH’s Beta
  • Both Heartiste and Vox understand the Omega similarly.
  • Lambda is irrelevant on the Heartiste scale.

There is a temptation among readers who like VD’s hierarchy for its complexity to dismiss the CH scale as simplistic or limited in scope. And yet, there is a deadly snare we can trip when we dismiss Heartiste’s scale on grounds of its face-value simplicity. The cultural institutions in our feminized society have abdicated their responsibility for guiding males toward maturity and excellence. Our schools, churches, the entertainment complex lie to boys and men in the service the feminine imperative. “Man-up and marry those sluts brave single moms!” “Women are delicate angels who must be respected!” “Piss sitting down!”

Many an otherwise solid Delta man will fall into one of a myriad traps that turn his virtue against him. Chateau Heartiste periodically features a “Beta of the Month” review of the cucks’ gallery, a voyeuristic series of cautionary tales of good men doing something idiotic by blindly following a dictate of righteousness. A classic example is the guy who travels with his adulterous wife to her former lover’s grave to lay flowers and help her “find closure.”

That is the lesson provided by Heartiste’s “Beta” wretches. Like Alexander’s sword slicing through the Gordian knot, so does Heartiste clarify the essence of a man’s ways: are you an Alpha — a man who goes through life satisfied — or are you a Beta: a laughingstock, an oblivious cuckold, a man who lets down those who need him the most?

Heartiste’s writing about the ways of Alpha and Beta men is available in the magnum opus of his archives.

Where There is No Room to Improve

Returning to Vox Day’s hierarchy: the ranks in Vox Day’s hierarchy are largely fixed, and the best that most men can hope for is to raise their position within their Platonic caste. This is my opinion, and I am to a degree amenable to being persuaded otherwise. But those ranks are not arbitrary designations on a sliding continuum, but distinct psychosexual profiles and as such, their boundaries are not permeable. If you are not an Alpha, you will never become one. Donald Trump was born, not made.

So can’t a Delta graduate to Beta? The example of Paul McCartney says “no.” Despite his superhuman fame and wealth, he was always a Delta. Respected by his industry peers, well liked by fans worldwide and across generations, but he never broke through to the Beta rank, much less to Alpha. His relationships with women illustrate the Delta’s limitations.

Linda Eastman, the first woman he married, was third-tier in the merciless eye of the sexual marketplace, given his stature as a Beatle: not an extraordinary beauty, and a single mother to boot. I am not saying this to detract from McCartney or the late Eastman but to show that a man’s water finds its level based on his immutable psychosexual profile regardless of his fame, and given the couple’s apparent happiness over the decades, he did choose a compatible woman of high marriage value. While McCartney had no shortage of first-rate girlfriends and flings owing to his stardom, he did well by resisting any likely temptation to marry a woman above of his socio-sexual rank.

With Linda’s passing, McCartney overshot his Delta rank when he married Heather Mills, a woman who despite being an amputee, may have nonetheless been out of his league. By marrying out of his station, the Delta is blinded by his inner sex-starved teenager. He misjudges the woman’s character and fails to control the dynamic of the relationship. As consequence, Mills dragged McCartney through a humiliating and nearly-ruinous divorce.

Where There Is Room to Improve

The best anyone can do is grow within his station. Rise from lower Delta to high Delta, for example. Really, in the many testimonials of self-improvement I’ve read and seen in person, that’s where the action is. But — there is one boundary that I did not yet mention, which can sometimes be crossed: the dividing line between the healthy and the defective man. That line separates the Gamma and the Omega from the domain of normal manhood, Delta. (Or in rare cases, the Omega-to-Sigma bypass.)

For a Gamma or an Omega, achieving Delta is deliverance. Suddenly, women like him (though he still needs to work on the attraction part) and men — even Alphas — respect him. But it takes herculean effort for the despised Gamma to become a Delta and once he gets there, analogous to the recovering alcoholic, the pull of Gamma backslide forever follows him like a ghost.

Here are the basic formulas for breaking the chains of Omega and Gamma:

Overcoming Omega: To graduate from Omega to Delta — or in rare cases to Sigma, given their shared social outcome-independence — the Omega male has to make himself less weird or repellent. A few Omegas can do it. Others are mentally ill and blissfully oblivious to social reality, or in happier instances they are genuinely content as outcasts and they don’t have any desire to improve their social status in the first place.

Overcoming Gamma: But while an Omega may be satisfied with his life, the Gamma lives in a simmering hell of one frustrated ambition, one minor humiliation after another. He is the secret, unacknowledged prince suffering the impertinence of the sheeple. But he may eventually find a moment of clarity in fearless introspection and undertake to improve his life. Reconstructing oneself from Gamma to Delta requires painfully acquired humility to immolate his delusion of unmerited specialness.


In a recent discussion, reader Suburban_elk drives a point home:

A man – or a male – finding his place in the hierarchy. This theme is at the very center of social organization and the role of culture in its development. [… ]  it is only the first step on another journey. It is only when a man knows where he stands, that he begins to appreciate other things.

And begins to live as his finest self.

Epic days are here and we need you at your best.