The removal of the English writer John Derbyshire from the neo-conservative journal National Review has marked a breaking point. Derbyshire's crime was penning an article at Takimag (listed in links below) revealing certain truths about African behaviour in civilised societies. And for that he had to go. It was inevitable.
I'm done with NR and mainstream conservatism, and have been for a long while. There was a time I picked up a copy of the magazine every week whilst passing through Grand Central Terminal, but I have not read it in over fifteen years. I haven't visited the website since the early 2000s. Every issue of NR seemed like just another installment in the long surrender to the Left. But capitulation is the story of postwar conservatism, both in the US and Britain.
As you know, I have a bit of history with NR, more than twenty years ago in New York City. Even then the NR staff came across as a bunch of faux-snobs and social-climbing pantywaists. I remember one of them in particular, a young Georgetown University grad who wore a fedora and pouty-lipped sneer; his face consistently warranted a punch, which to my regret I didn't deliver. The 'Vile Bodies' parties in Manhattan in the late 1980s, where the chubby David Brooks was known to put in an appearance, were notable for their stuffiness and Waugh-games, beTweeded costume clowns playing dress-up and puffing on Chesterton pipes. The old Jesuit priests of my acquaintance--long-solicited by the nascent neocon crowd in NYC--privately despised them. Later on I got to know some of the new crew that William F. Buckley, Jr. brought into the fold, including certain highly irritating hyper-Catholic writers. As for WFB, I often saw him at Mass at St. Catherine's in Riverside, CT, an old, sloppy, greasy-haired son of a bitch.
Conservatives are not only not up to the task of defending the West, they are directly complicit in its subversion. They are traitors and should be treated as such. They are far more interested in getting an invite to the right parties or getting into the right graduate school. And this is exactly why “conservatism” is losing, and will continue to lose, even as it claims to be winning by suppressing the likes of John Derbyshire, Peter Brimelow, Patrick Buchanan, Joseph Sobran, and Sam Francis. Francis wrote a book excoriating the GOP (which he called the 'stupid party') and the mainstream conservative movement titled Beautiful Losers. Losers, indeed. Conservatives are betas in bow ties, manginas in madras, pussies in blazers and side-partings. Conservatives are a fucking joke.
I am not a conservative because there is nothing left to conserve. Conservatism is slave ideology for yesterday's men. Conservatives lack the strength, guts, bloodlust, and killer instinct that make winners. I advocate radical, revolutionary change that would make your head spin. I long for force and violence, which, as you well know, is the only way to uphold civilisation. Defending it is a perpetual struggle best left to those who are willing to kill for it. May I let you in on a secret? I dream of war, show trials, separation, liberation, and traitors' corpses hanging from live oaks. But I suppose I'm getting ahead of myself here.
If Nationalists are to prevail, we first must take on the conservatives. And then the white liberals. Especially the white liberals. Their time will come. My (unsolicited) advice to young Nationalists is to finish university, get a job or found a company, start a family, buy property, infiltrate the power centres. Begin the long march. And above all, network as if your life depended on it. Which, in a way, it does. If you notice a tall, handsome, stylish chap lifting weights at the club or practising marksmanship at the local range, in a suit of Tweed, that would be me. I would be pleased to help ease you and yours into the new paradigm. But understand one thing. Ultimately the question is: Are you willing to do whatever it takes to win? That is the only question that matters. Search your heart for the answer. And cultivate your killer instinct. At some point the gloves must come off and we face our adversaries.
We're all Rhodesians now.