08 April 2013
A few words in remembrance of Margaret Thatcher (1925-2013). For two summers between school and university I worked for the Conservative Party in London--at the constituency office level, at Conservative Central Office, and at Parliament for a Tory MP. I met her on several occasions in the last days of her reign. Always proper, always polite. Knowing my admiration, a girlfriend at the time who worked for an opposition politician gave to me as souvenirs several signed pieces of correspondence from her. At the time I very much appreciated the economic logic of Thatcherism. My views in those days were conservative-libertarian, pro-free market. And yet, I had doubts. I failed to understand exactly how on a societal and cultural level City 'barrow boys' were an improvement over Durham miners or Lancashire farmers. The Thatcher revolution, as it was called, struck me as a deeply American project, and, as such, alien to England. Even more crucially, I began to sense that ignoring the biological and demographic realities of the struggle ultimately would doom the conservative movement both in England and the US. A decade later my instincts were proved right when I once again settled in London and saw a city transformed by what can only be described as ethnic cleansing and race-replacement, i.e. genocide, changes that propelled me to the hardcore Nationalist side. It has been heart-breaking. The Thatcherism of my youth I attribute to naïveté; I have no other excuse. But there was an element of conviction and enthusiasm for the fight amongst Tory true-believers that with a few exceptions is lacking today. For having been exposed to it I am grateful. Thatcher, for all her imperfections, was a genuine statesman. There is much more I can say about my time with the Conservatives--and I will later--but I am afraid it will come across to you as so much reminiscing, sexual bravado, and gossip. Years move on.