“Europe, Rise From Your Knees!”

That’s a line delivered by Poland’s prime minister Beata Szydło in a speech to her country’s Parliament last Wednesday:

We are not going to take part in the madness of the Brussels elite. We want to help people, not the political elites.

Where are you headed Europe? Rise from your knees and from your lethargy or you will be crying over your children every day.

If you can’t see this – if you can’t see that terrorism currently has the potential to hurt every country in Europe, and you think that Poland should not defend itself, you are going hand in hand with those who point this weapon against Europe, against all of us. It needs to be said clearly and directly: This is an attack on Europe, on our culture, on our traditions.

Do we want politicians who claim we have to get used to the attacks, and who describe terrorist attacks as “incidents,” or do we want strong politicians who can see the danger and can fight against it efficiently?

That phrase about culture and traditions is a softball, and as far as all mainstream right-wing European leaders will rhetorically go. But soon enough they or their successors will be talking about our nation, our race, our blood. Why shouldn’t they?

“Europe, rise from your knees.” What does that mean? First, it means that you have a pair of eyes and a free mind, so use them. Wake up. Then, act like you’re in a war, because you are in one. It’s presently one-sided biological warfare in which the enemy’s objective is to breed you out of existence. Genetic-pollution Afroasian immigrants are their ground troops. The anti-White Kulturkampf in the media and schools is their air support. And you, the European man, woman and child anywhere in the world, are the city under siege.

This is not a tangent, but I’ve wondered before: was the 1944 Warsaw Uprising a mistake or a sacrifice with long-term recompense? The 63-day campaign wrested several districts of the capital from the enemy occupant. The Uprising ultimately failed and led to 85% of Warsaw getting razed, including her entire Old Town and all of the city’s landmarks of cultural significance. In addition to insurgent casualties, approximately 200,000 civilians were murdered by German regulars and their SS auxiliaries, who were brought in from as far as Azerbaijan. (German personnel losses included up to 9,000 est. killed, 7,000 missing, 9,000 wounded, and 2,000 captured).

The two-day Wola district massacre, in which 40,000 civilians were executed in house-to-house sweeps, was particularly grisly. From post-war court testimony of Mathias Schenck, a Wehrmacht sapper:

After the door of the building was blown off we saw a daycare-full of small children, around 500; all with small hands in the air. Even [SS-Oberführer Oskar] Dirlewanger’s own people called him a butcher; he ordered to kill them all. The shots were fired, but he requested his men to save the ammo and finish them off by rifle-butts and bayonets. Blood and brain matter flowed in streams down the stairs.

Dirlewanger was a pedophile. Schenck also testified to seeing Dirlewanger rape a girl while holding a knife, and then cutting her open along the entire length of her torso after ejaculating.

There are Oskar Dirlewangers at high levels of Western governments today. This is why my apparent tangent on the Warsaw Uprising is neither a tangent nor irrelevant. You have just seen a snapshot of what a total war of population-replacement looks like. This is what our leaders are planning for us.

Scratch that — they are already doing it. A dozen little English girls were just shredded at the Ariana Grande concert, and they tell you to remain passive as they kick in your door over angry Tweets. A thought experiment: how would a legitimate English government respond to a foreign national mass-murdering its children? Or to a wild African decapitating Lee Rigby in front of his barracks?

The English people, along with most Westerners, are not ruled by legitimate governments. They are ruled by criminals. As long as these Western people, in the privacy of their minds where there is no excuse for being a slave, consider their governments lawful and legitimate, they are kneeling before Oskar Dirlewanger. Getting off your knees would mean, first of all, that you open your eyes and see the evil that is staining your land.

What would be the next step in rising off your knees?

I don’t tell people to do anything I am not doing. But keep reading.

Despite its failure, the 1944 Warsaw Uprising will be famed for as long as sentient mankind lives. The lesson for posterity is that sometimes you have to fight because even if you are beaten, you will inspire your great-grandsons to never die on their knees.

Fabrizio Quattrocchi is more alive now than the walking-dead who shuffle through Western European capitals today:

[He] was hooded when the murderers put a gun to his head. “When his murderers were pointing a pistol at him, this man tried to take off his hood and shouted, ‘Now I’m going to show you how an Italian dies.’ And they killed him.”

Warsaw lost the Uprising but won the war, and she’s rebuilt and alive today.

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Were all those 500 little children in Wola wasted, should the operation have been aborted? Seventy three years later, nationalists are laughing in the EU’s face. The wind at their backs is the spirit of those kids and of the fallen fighters.

So what do you do after you open your eyes? The answer: you lead, you follow, or you get out of the way. That last one is valuable too, as it makes you a passive supporter of those who act. The criminals and perverts embedded in the institutions of our ruling classes will double-down before they’re brought to trial and the imported aliens removed. It will either be clean, or it’s gonna get drawn out and ugly. There is no tenable center any more, you have to pick a side. There are action heroes and rising national movements. So lead something, or join the people who act in service to your nation. Support them; or at the very least, don’t stand in their way.

European, rise from your knees.

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Image source, top: YouTube; above: Renegade Tribune

Physical Bravery And Young Age

Set in medieval France, the historical drama La passion Béatrice opens with the lord of a manor and his teenage son returning from English captivity after a failed military campaign. But the lord’s homecoming is not what everyone had expected. He directs his first of many acts of wrath at his son, whom he torments for having frozen up in battle as the opposing armies charged toward each other. The boy’s older sister comforts him later, cooing “you were too young, not ready for war.”

Fast-forwarding to another war, two weeks ago in Germany a 26-year-old man was forced to watch a stranger rape his girlfriend at knifepoint, as reported:

A refugee from Ghana has been arrested for dragging a young woman from her tent and raping her while she was on a camping holiday with her boyfriend. The young couple […] were approached by a machete-wielding man at about 12.30 am on Sunday last week. The boyfriend was forced to watch as the attacker violated his 23-year-old lover.

It’s not clear what sidelined the boyfriend while his adversary went to the ground with the girl, what impromptu weapons were available to him, and what opportunity he had to attack the rapist. He could have grabbed a rock or a branch. Toss a handful of dirt into the African’s eyes while rushing him. Yell for help from other campers. It’s easy, from the position of a spectator, to construct a different ending to the story and I indulged in imagining the following alternate scenario, which begins with the Ghanian holding a knife to the girl’s throat:

GHANIAN: “Yoo watch fiki-fiki. Yoo moof, I cut your bitch”

GERMAN: “Stab away. She’ll be dead to me with nigger stink on her anyway.”

The German picks up a camping axe and approaches the interloper. The Ghanaian runs. An hour later in the couple’s tent, baby Hans is conceived.

By the way, as cold as it sounds, that fictitious “stab away” reply would not have been out of line even if the hostage were his daughter rather than mere girlfriend. But the young man didn’t follow my ex post facto armchair-quarterback script. Instead, maybe his brain short-circuited at the sight of sharp steel and he watched the action as though from behind a screen. Someone who grew up sheltered from any and all violence will freeze up when faced with an imminent prospect of physical pain. And that incident shows why shielding boys from common schoolyard rough-and-tumble is wrongheaded. I recently shared related thoughts on bullying.

A reader at Vox Popoli who is a retired military officer noted: “German boys always struck me as wimpish until the military got hold of them.” I don’t think his categorization of them as wimpish was intended as a slight. There is in fact something “not ready for war” about well-bred K-selected boys until they are mentored. They require time and guidance to mature. They don’t have that opportunistic aggression-for-aggression’s sake you see in r-selected types.

But at 26, the camper is not young. Certainly not by the traditional standards of infantrymen, with 22 being the average age of the U.S. combat soldier in Vietnam. Youth alone does not explain that instance of cowardice, as history is full of children who performed superhuman acts of heroism. Just three generations ago, boys as young as eleven fought as riflemen against professional and mercenary SS units in the 1944 Warsaw Uprising. Boys and girls even younger than that served as couriers and nurses’ aides under fire.

In fact, youth is typically associated with recklessness, bravery’s wild cousin. In Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, a middle-aged character has a rueful interior monologue (to my recollection twenty years after reading that book) in which he rationalizes his own reluctance to join the ongoing political riots as being a function of his mature perspective. So has a 26-year-old German today “aged out” of bravery, relative to boys a decade younger than him who comprised Wehrmacht units at the Battle of the Bulge? No; mid-twenties isn’t “mature,” and the VP commenter already answered that question — the military never got a hold of him.

“The military” can be read literally, as well as metaphorically to refer to any communal structure that provides male mentorship to boys. Without that mentoring, they risk ending up as cake batter that failed to rise. An illustration: the mild-mannered young man in Scent of a Woman, who required Al Pacino’s guidance to bring out his innate integrity. The camper’s situation was compounded by the fact that he was not merely abandoned by his fathers, in which case he’d at least been free to figure certain things out by himself. Rather, his environment in a conquered and Allied-occupied Germany was by design hostile to the germ of masculinity within any native boy there. From his first day in Kindergarten, he learned shame and grew up to despise his original sin of existing.

“In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” ― C.S. Lewis

A necessary aside: not everyone there is a coward. This is a proper moment to break away from the all-too-familiar accounts of submission because the preponderance of such stories creates a false sense of determinism. We are at war and with each new set of open eyes, the war is becoming less and less one-sided.

Not all is passivity among Europeans. In another incident, also in Germany, a group of Pakistanis sidled up to a family of five on a train and asked the man’s two little girls to sit on their laps. The child-molesting human garbage attacked the father when he told them to leave. They also beat his wife and their thirteen-year-old son, both of whom tried to shield his body. Brave men are out there, in Germany and everywhere else. The father stepped up to do his job and the teenage boy showed more mettle than the camper who is twice his age.

Even the most red-pilled of us is capable of getting angry, and the above news item made me livid. Anger is a sign of life.

Every human group upholds the three ideals listed below for the purpose of turning the wimpish boy into into a man. Those ideals are realized through social institutions, which in the West are being intentionally corrupted by liberalism:

Mentorship — When you visit a martial arts school or a little league baseball practice and you see non-Whites under instruction of White coaches there, you are witnessing a fatal compromise on a Männerbund structure for mentoring boys in the image of their elders. Diversity disrupts harmony. Blacks have their all-back inner-city boxing gyms. Whites have to price-out the diversity with sports like lacrosse and hockey.

Culture — As T.S. Eliot put it, “Culture may even be described simply as that which makes life worth living.” A living spirit whose great books for boys transmit masculine role models and foster a purposeful sense of identity. Culture is home. That’s why they wreck Boy Scouts and blue collar fraternities such as firefighting and construction work by pushing women and diversity on them.

Destiny — A sense of having a past and a future. The kids who fought in the Warsaw Uprising knew that they had a home and a destiny of their own, which they fought to secure for themselves and for me with their young lives. Sure of their righteousness in the inferno of urban warfare, they sang:

We’re the children of Warsaw going into battle
For your every cobblestone, we’ll give our blood
We’re the children of Warsaw going into battle
On your command, we’ll bring wrath to the enemy

Freezing up when an armed rapist grabs your girl is the fruit of political systems whose aim is to destroy White nations and with them, everything that the millennia of Western history have irrepressibly created even through the worst times along the course of our highs and lows. Our key objective in this war, in Germany and everywhere else in the West, is to secure our freedoms of association. You give a damn for, you fight and kill for, you give what you have and you do your best for, and you willingly die no matter your age, for what is yours.

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Image source: Wikipedia. “The Little Insurrectionist,” Warsaw

The Tragedy of Compromise

A nation can be snuffed out though violence or miscegenation, but only if the genocide is complete or they might come back stronger. But can a nation survive a utopia? Huxley pondered the end of history and to my recollection, he did not account for a fissile ruling class or the material goods losing their flavor.

But in the real world, the hard edge of globalism is bruising us hard. Unless you consider the mud invasion utopian. Below is my translation of a poem about the folly of a nobleman who tired to work with the system. That’s a difficult thing to do when the system is implacable and the grievances of your constituents are absolute.

If the war gets hot, what do we fight for? For nothing less than total victory. What is total victory? Securing what’s ours. Reach for more and you are courting downfall. The meek shall…

Aleksander Wielopolski (1803 – 1877) ran Poland’s civil administration within the Russian Empire and to forestall the bloodshed that would result from the growing independence movement, he ordered a conscription of Polish nationalists into twenty-year enlistments in the Tsar’s army. That decision sparked the January 1863 Uprising, the very outcome Wielopolski wanted to avoid.

The original poem is in the YouTube video below under “Show More.” It is written in trochaic meter with an ABAB rhyme scheme.

Margrave Wielopolski

Through Saxon Square, Circassian hundreds gallop
And by the palace, a hundred campfires burn
How do you do it, Your Excellency
That you’re despised on every side?

Lord Margrave, you don’t think in lockstep
So with the Tsar you’re already suspect —
Neither Petersburg nor Moscow will trust
A Pole who has his own plans

Lord Margrave still walks the tightrope
It’s dangerous to walk so high
After all, disaster won’t spare him
Because bad luck has he, who is born here
Your contempt, no one will forgive
We’re superstitious, fervent and teary
And you’re proud, you won’t deign wallow
In the national borscht with us
Why bother splashing logic in our faces?
We did not read Hegel, sire
For us it’s Chopin, peas and cabbage
And from time to time an uprising

Lord Margrave still walks the tightrope
Abyss on the left and abyss on the right
If he avoids death by a countryman’s hand
Then he’ll leave office in disgrace
All that work, Lord Margrave, and for nothing
In vain, the forced conscription
Things will be as they must — business as usual
To battle unarmed, backbreak and welts
Lord Margrave, you won’t change a nation
Here, good sense is rarely used
And the one thing we can do truly well
Is to lose most beautifully in the world

Lord Margrave still walks the tightrope
Though awkwardly and with a wild boar’s posture
And when he falls, he’ll gain only
A traitor’s shame instead of a monument
That you fell, that’s normal Polish fate
In the end, everyone falls off that rope
Only why did you forget, Wielopolski,
That the fall must look good?

– Jerzy Czech (c. 1981)

Cultural Memory

28Sherman regularly posts WWI images on his blog. Some of them connect us with the soldier in the image, other photos show strange inventions as each side was rushing to adapt to the changing technology of the battlefield. I think his aim is to reconnect us with the continuity of our civilization. I came across a good maxim the other day: “In Europe 100 miles is far. In America 100 years is old.”

A cultural amnesia is reinforced by the cacophony of electronic stimuli and shades of mud. Westerners are drowning in sewage and have no idea what to say besides “White people have no culture.” For someone under thirty in the United States, watching a YouTube video with 1980s TV commercials can be dislocating. “Wow, everybody is White and the girls are … how do you say… I’ve never seen this before… is ‘nice’ the word I’m looking for?”

I don’t know much about Dresden beside what I read in Vonnegut’s novel. What do young Germans know about it? Do they even know that something existed before all the bitchy women, the Turks and now the full terror of race-replacement? The teenagers who died in the firebombings… did they ever exist? do they have anything to tell us?

It’s a similar idea with my Warsaw snapshots in the previous post. My blog’s tagline is also an appeal to cultural memory. How can you live any other way when all you know is the way you live now? To somebody who is Eastern European, Communist propaganda reels from the 1940s might connect him with his grandparents’ stories about rabid Party apparatchiks and their unchecked power to ruin lives at every level of society, the blood-curdling 3:00 AM secret police knocks on the door, the mass imprisonments — and the Happy Face of socio-realist art plastered over all of it. But there were also ruins that had to be rebuilt, and they were. The workers were the heroes, whatever they thought about those staged Bricklaying Competitions.

A Westerner will look at scenes from Warsaw as exotic in their particulars but familiar in terms of his undefined hunger. Whether it’s the idyllic video of a stroll of a through 1990s Warsaw I linked to there, or the bricklayers in 1947 “A Warsaw Day,” he will see a public space that belongs to its rightful people. No war, no tension, no ceding of ground, no foreign faces, no ugly languages, no dissonance, no withdrawal from life. Having seen the past, he’ll find clarity about fighting for peace and his future.

Songs About Warsaw

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Image source: Youtube

The songs I picked span the post-war decades and the videos give you a feel for the city of its respective decade. I translated selected verse lyrics, not the entire songs.

Though 82 years old now, Irena Santor is doing well and still occasionally performs. There is a whimsical other-worldliness in her voice, most so in her 1960s/70s heyday. The title of her early-1990s song Chodź na kawę Warszawo (“Come join me for coffee, Warsaw”) is grammatically constructed as one girlfriend addressing another. There is double entendre in the lyrics, with the capitalized adjectives also being names of Warsaw streets:

Your face is your streets
You wake up Cold like ice
Wolfish and Wild, and Dark like a Tear
I look and sense pain
But as a woman, you’re Fickle
You’re Kind when you want to be
Simple and Beautiful
Honey-filled to the brim
You’re as Bright as the bells of Jasna Street

Lady Pank (pron. like “Lady Punk” in English) is an eighties band. Unlike the bright pop culture of American eighties, Poland’s pop culture from that decade reflected a gloomy political reality. That aesthetic is prominent in Krzyztof Kieslowski’s “Decalogue.” Nineties-era song Stacja Warszawa (“Warsaw Station”) is about the alienation of people who came to the city for work during its post-Communist construction boom.

The faces on the metro are alien
So why bother knowing anyone
All of this is too expensive
Best to keep going and then sleep
Everything would be different
If you were here, I know

The band T.Love’s uptempo Warszawa lovingly catalogs the cold mornings and the scattered empty bottles. There is a sub-genre of poetry, notably William Shakespeare’s sonnet “My Mistresses Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun,” that lists the flaws of one’s beloved as testament to the speaker’s fondness for something that’s imperfect, but is his. As pop songs go, this one does something similar:

When I look into your eyes, as tired as mine
I love this city, so tired like me
Where Hitler and Stalin did what they did
Where springtime breathes in the exhaust

Krakowskie Przedmieście is sun-drenched
Whirling like mist, you come from the gate
And I’m hungry, so hungry
My love, feed me with dreams
The trees and the shrubs bloom
In leafy Żoliborz, fucking Żoliborz
Completely drunk on the river’s waters
I want to scream, I want to roar, I want to sing

Mieczysław Fogg’s career spanned from his first professional performance as an adult in 1928 until his death in 1990. His style recalls the 1930s aesthetic of a lost culture, not the least his aristocratic Kresy accent. Piosenka o mojej Warszawie (“A Song about my Warsaw”), recorded shortly after World War II, shows film footage of pre-war days. The song’s first two verses compare the speaker’s antebellum strolls through the city to the joy of young love. Clouds then gather in the third and final verse:

I know that you’re not yourself today
That you survived bloody days
That despair and pain crush you
That I have to cry with you
But such, as you live in my memory
I’ll restore with my blood
And believe me, Warsaw, beside my song and tears
I am ready to give you my life.

With its simple didactic lyrics and cheerful melody, the song “Warszawski dzień (“A Warsaw Day”) is an example of socio-realist art that was mandatory during the 1945 – 1954 Stalinist era. Warsaw was almost completely razed after the 1944 general uprising, including its historic Old Town and the King Sigismund column at the top of this post, and it had a quarter of its civilian population murdered. Seeing color footage of the city being rebuilt in this vintage Communist propaganda reel can bring a tear to your eye:

The streets were dark, the night was black.
A flame of hope lit the undergrounds,
Then it resurrected, and it awakened
The light over the ruins is once more in force.

Over the Vistula River, a new day dawns
It speeds with the trams, this Warsaw day!
Back to the schools
Back to the offices
Rushes to construction scaffoldings, this Warsaw day!

Here is English composer Richard Addinsell’s “Warsaw Concerto,” written in 1941. The quiet piano solos in this piece recall Frederic Chopin’s Nocturnes:

Defending Elk

As reported by RT Online, “xenophobic” riots erupted in the Polish town of Ełk (pron. Eh-wk) after a 21-year-old local man was stabbed to death by four men of Arab descent outside of their kebab diner. The suspects are in police custody. More than two dozen protesters were later detained as 300 people ransacked the diner in retaliation.

Xenophobic. The word’s disapproving usage codifies the respectability of tolerance, making judicious postures toward foreigners unfashionable. Cultural Marxism works as long as it successfully persuades attractive young women to judge men by its values and convinces men to dance to that tune to get laid. In other words, it installs girls as arbiters of correct attitudes toward the destiny of their nation. But Europeans are snapping out of their cornucopia trance and anyhow, we are a K-selected patriarchal race — we do more than display to our women, we also have them aspire to meet our standards.

The slain young man may not have been an innocent victim. According to a credible-sounding regular commenter at Vox Popoli, he was allegedly a known criminal with a rap sheet: “he started not-so-friendly chat with bar service, and the he left with two cokes, refusing to pay. Two Algerians, Moroccan and Tunisian (a chef) run after him. [The] chef stabbed him twice.”

It doesn’t matter. Foreigners don’t get to do vigilante justice. And as I put it last year, a healthy society includes its own reasonably contained criminal underclass:

We are better-off for having our own reserve army of muscle and balls. And importantly, we need someone to rule the rougher streets; best it’s our thugs than their thugs.

Looking from the perspective of a future victory, we would not have repelled the invaders and hanged the traitors without our own rough young men […] being the first to stick their necks out and take it to the streets.

Morbid tolerance did not work out well in Sweden. It has not worked out well anywhere.

With regards to action, I never tell readers to do something, in part because one shouldn’t tell anyone to do something he wouldn’t do himself. I navigate a neoliberal sewer every day and I don’t do anything about it. However, there are circumstances under which I would in fact do something.

An example from my visit to Poland, a tourist district of another medium-sized city. I’m having dinner with an older relative in an outdoor section of a restaurant, when he says with a wry smile on his face: “Hey, it looks like diversity has followed you here from America.” He nods his head toward something behind me, a hostess leading a party toward their table. It was five men in their late twenties wearing their country’s national team track suits and appearing to be professional athletes. Two were White and three were a mix of black African and Arabic.

They were having a lively conversation in French. I kept a discrete eye on their table and sussed out their dynamic. One of the two White men was the leader of the group; he was mostly quiet but had authority in his expression and the others’ body language was deferential toward him. The diplomat of the group was one of the mixed-race men, mostly sub-Saharan in appearance but with an Arab angularity to his facial features. He talked the most and others laughed at his jokes. They talked loudly but then again, elite athletes aren’t shy people. I didn’t pick up on any disrespect to the other patrons.

A pretty waitress came to take their orders and they spoke with her in heavily-accented English. The “diplomat” had a big grin and very bright eyes. They were visibly impressed by her but not lecherous. Like schoolboys awed by a beautiful teacher. As someone who has traveled, I could relate: when in an unfamiliar culture, you walk the thin line of appreciation and inoffensiveness.

When she returned to check on their table, she was wearing a jacket over her blouse. Poland can be cold even in the height of summer.

They left before we did. Two observations, one on hospitality and one on action. On the former: visitors who haven’t been accommodated to feel overly comfortable someplace that is not their home respond by behaving like guests and not like invaders. Xenophobia works. On the latter: had they disrespected what’s mine, I’d have gotten up.

The linked RT article concludes with a statement by Serbian-American political commentator and former Yugoslav dissident Srdja Trifkovic:

In general, it is the former Soviet bloc countries which also include the Czech Republic, Slovakia and Hungary which have offered stiff resistance to the attempt by the European Union to impose migrant quotas on individual member countries regardless of their parliaments’ will or public opinion. So, it is really in this context that this should be seen as an expression of nativist anger and resistance to what is seen in central and eastern Europe as western Europe’s failed policy of excessive welcoming of the migrants and unsuccessful attempt to [integrate] them into the whole society.

The Anti-Racist Clown Show in Warsaw

There is no point in making an appeal to yesterday’s terrorist mass-murder in Belgium. It is like all the previous acts of terror. Like so numbingly many instances of lethal or demoralizing human friction in the past several decades in White countries, it is a product of the forced mixing of people who should — by every dictate of natural and moral law — be living separately from each other. That forced mixing is the policy of Western governments and it is propagandized by their anti-racist (anti-White) activists and useful idiots.

In the recent “Poles Apart” essay, I listed the psychological root-causes of anti-racist thinking in Eastern Europe, in Poland specifically. That post was written in a reasonable, even gentle, tone in order to reach any potential or borderline Polish SJW and compel him to reflect on his unwitting role as a collaborator with the powers that mean his country ill.

However, there are occasions when anti-racists (or “social justice warriors” / SJWs as they are derisively referred to) effectively declare themselves a belligerent party and as such, they will not be reached by appeals to reason or decency. They are an invasion-abetting and White-genocide-advocating enemy who ought to be treated as such.

Here is an example of this type of SJW. Poland’s major online news portal Onet has an article and photo gallery from a small “No to Racism” march that took place in Warsaw on March 19th. (All photos are credited to Polska Agencja Prasowa/PAP):

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The orange clowns are not trying to persuade. They are trying to mock. It’s a Level 1 protest per my original analysis of the three types of political street demonstrations. Or at least they think it is if they believe that Poland has fallen to the globalists.

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Is that Bernie Sanders in the blue jacket? The happy merchant’s cousin next to him? The yellow sign says “Say no to Racism.” The smaller white sign says “Open the Borders!” at the bottom. The large white sign says “Allah and Jesus, brothers be,” a blasphemy and a deliberate mockery of the 400-year-old Polish-Hungarian friendship proverb that is now used in solidarity marches involving nationalists from those two countries.

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The sign above says “Say no to Racism.” You can also see the anarchist/Antifa flags, which connect the protesters to foreign subversion. The anti-racist language in the placard slogans and in the words of some of the quoted marchers is an Alinskyite counterfeit claim to moral high ground and popular support. One anti-racist participant is quoted saying:

What happened in a country … where Solidarity was founded?

I will be patient with the feigned stupidity and answer the question. Poland’s anti-Communist movement and its post-Communist order was peaceful because it occurred in an ethnically-homogeneous nation of 38 million, where there was no build-up of scores to be settled along ethnic fault-lines. Things were different in Yugoslavia.

Then he continues:

And today there are groups that want to do referendums against those whom we should accept. The border should protect us from the enemy, but to be open to all those who need our help.

But the more that an SJW speaks, the more one wonders if his stupidity is entirely feigned. Another anti-racist activist from that march is quoted:

Poland is slowly becoming a country in which every person who has a bit of a darker skin color is afraid to walk down the street.

My blood pressure just dropped a little. But then she adds this:

People who feel frustrated because they earn very little and have a difficult housing situation, and instead of looking for the enemy where he actually is, they are looking for it in some mythical refugees. We will not find solutions if people do not start to organize around the real problems.

Don’t worry, sweetheart. When Europeans finish dealing with the street-shitting, child-raping infestation that had been invited into Europe, they will indeed look for and find their real enemy.

On another upbeat note, do readers remember the truism I repeated, that people go straight to the comments-section of corporate press articles to get truth and clarity? I am happy to say that all comments under that Onet article were anti-immigration. A typical comment by a female reader (Polish past-tense verbs are gendered so the sex of the writer is known) is along the lines of her always having been non-racist until she visited or traveled to work in England, where she witnessed vibrant diversity in practice.

***

I do not yet understand, from the perspective on an observer of history, if the globally coordinated project of ruining of White countries will ultimately have to be resisted in non-violent ways that encourage the globalist juggernaut to self-destruct if our nations are to survive, or if the enemy will at some point have to be fought directly just like the Red Army engaged Wehrmacht soldiers at Stalingrad and overcame the invasion.

On a closing note, the Onet article does not say how many people attended the rally, but it’s a common photojournalism trick to take close-ups of a smaller group of demonstrators to create an illusion of a large crowd. Yet neither in terms of numbers nor quality was that anti-racist clown show in Warsaw speaking on behalf of  Poland — rather, it was a mockery of a thousand-year-old nation.

The real Poland is in the video below, represented by the 50,000 people marching through Warsaw at the anti-immigration rally on November 12, 2015: