Amerika

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The Illusion of Inaction

Wednesday, January 3rd, 2018

Actions have risks, but these can’t be considered in isolation.  The choice to not make a particular action has its own consequences, which may be worse.

So not acting is itself a risk.

The degree to which it is a risk — for both acting and not acting, for deciding one way versus deciding another — is contingent on the quality of knowledge.  Better knowledge (which here means both facts that correspond closely to reality and also methods of reasoning that reliably reveal previously unknown truth from already known truth, both observation and logic) will produce better predictions about the effects of a decision.

The feeling of safety that makes inaction alluring is an illusion.

In the same way, the feeling of escaping responsibility by not acting, the feeling of being responsible for the negative results of acting but not the responsibility for the negative effects of not acting, is too an illusion.

It is this comforting illusion that distinguishes action from inaction.  This can be seen clearly in the question of whether to kill.

If we kill the intruder, if we execute the rapist… what if we’re wrong?  What if our imperfect knowledge causes us to kill an innocent man who wrongly thought he was entering his own home?  What if the rapist was framed, and we execute the wrong man?  These are real possibilities and valid concerns  There is a tendency to fixate on these types of negative consequences of killing.

But this only addresses the risks involved in acting.  We must also look at the risks involved in inaction: if we don’t kill the intruder he may kill us; if we don’t execute the rapist he may go on to rape more.

Unduly weighing the risks of not acting is like a surgeon refusing to do his job because he might slice the wrong organ.  If he gave in to these concerns he would be useless to his patients.

The distinction between action and inaction is an illusion.  The reality is that we make choices, and that not acting is also a choice, even if it’s not noticed.  Choosing to stay parked on the railway tracks as the train approaches does not absolve the responsibility for the deaths in the car.

Instead we must: realize what we want and what we are responsible for, then determine what path will most likely achieve those ends. Giving credence to the illusion of inaction makes us less effective at doing this.

“All You Could Hear Were The Screams”

Thursday, December 21st, 2017

Desperate cries of terror and pain emanating from the mass of victims and bystanders overwhelmed my hearing as I found myself entering into that moment of horror. Seconds before, a large white van with darkly tinted glass roared through the pedestrian area I had been crossing, catapulting somersaulting bodies aside in a red mist.

I had watched it all, dumbfounded.  It was a world filled to the brim with high pitched screeching, like an industrial scale poultry barn amplified too loud, mixed with coarse rasping screams tearing the air, ripping up the quiet civility this atmosphere usually knew, vocalized rejection of the reality unfolding before barely comprehending minds with impotent variations of “No!”  Beneath all that, off key and unnerving like the string section of a horror film soundtrack, was the low noise of indistinct weeping.

This visceral intensity was in stark contrast to the mundane, almost comical way the bodies had bounced, popped, and come undone when the van met them.  The shouts of warning on its approach, too, had lacked some reality, as if nobody really wanted to believe what was about to happen.  Shouting in public is not something we do.  Am I sure I want to disturb the peace?  That van really is off the road and heading towards us in an unsafe manner, right?  Excuse me fellow citizen, sorry to disturb you, but I would just like to bring to your attention the fact that there is a van that is on course to smush you, and I think you may possibly be interested to know that, thanks and sorry.

But the present noise really hit me.  Millions of years of evolution had attuned my psyche to instinctively feel an urgency to aid the source of the noise.  It was the sound of nails being dragged across a chalkboard formulated into the words “Help me now!”

It was electrifying, seemingly in every sense.  My skin was a little bit tingling and numb from the shock of the scene and the high voltage arcs of human misery being broadcast through the air from every direction.  I am slightly ashamed to admit that I did feel invigorated.  Normally when passing through this area on my way home from work my mind would be in a cloud, not present, not focused, the mundane drudgery of quotidian life having sapped my awareness of even my thoughts, so that I lumbered zombie-like through the pedestrian space, weaving automatically between various public sculptures and city-dirty trees imprisoned within concrete cells alike to get from the same start point to the same end point.

The brief carnage swept that all away and in that moment there was an immediacy and solidity to life.  The mental cloud dissipated and I found myself staring at the sun.

I took a moment to assess the scene and consider my response.  At no point had I myself been in danger, for the van had roared into the pedestrian space while I was mid-weave around a concrete sculpture large enough to block its path if it had charged at me, yet squat enough that it didn’t obstruct my view.  It was a blob shaped vaguely like a human head that had undergone a beyond-cartoonish process of abstraction and subsequently been twisted and distorted to remove all symmetry and smoothed to remove all but the grossest feature.  There was a plaque, but I’d never invested the minute it would take to read it.

The van was gone now, passed beyond a bend of the road by which it had exited the pedestrian space, perhaps pursuing mayhem beyond our sight, leaving us with a wake of mangled bodies and air charged with the sound of human pain as the only testament to its presence.

Could I help the victims?  I’d sat through a few work-mandated safety training sessions, and had absorbed a few bits of first aid there between moments of boredom, so I’d probably be able to help by stemming blood flow and performing chest compressions to forcefully animate the hearts of the unresponsive.  Should I help the victims?  I pretended to be surprised at this apathetic thought.  I would have to touch people I didn’t know, and that is awkward, we don’t normally do that.  I would get blood on my nice clothes, and I didn’t want to have to buy new ones.  I could do something wrong, and fail to keep someone alive when another bystander would have done a better job.  I could just leave, walk away, and no one would blame me, or even know.

I took some tentative steps towards the path of the van to avoid a decision.  My curiosity brought me nearer, and I found myself next to a body splayed out on the ground in a red mess, unmoving but for a slightly twitching leg.  A blank face looked sideways.  Thickly matted hair obscured the back of the head so that I couldn’t quite tell if it was shaped normally or had been deformed.  This was the body, I now remembered, that had clunked against the van’s grill, and this was the head that had made an unpleasantly goofy thunk against the van’s windshield.  It had been so rude, the way the van bopped the body so carelessly, treating the human as if it had been just matter, just a doll being tossed aside by a petulant brat.

Realizing that I was now close enough to the body that my inaction would be conspicuous to other bystanders, I stepped forward and crouched next to it.  Committed to helping, I reached out and put two fingers on its neck beside its throat.  Warm lubricating blood made the skin slide easily under my fingers as I pressed in gently.  There was a pulse, but pausing to think for a moment allowed me to recognize it as my own, a beat pounding heavily throughout my body in the electric air.  This body had none.  I moved my hands to the chest, roughly estimating where its heart would be and began rhythmically pumping.

I noticed then that a bystander had come to watch us.  As my hands worked, I looked up at his face and was at first offended by its projection of uncaring indifference, but then noticed his focused gaze.  Following it to the body’s head, I saw from this closer view that it was indeed deformed quite badly, and after staring longer, noticed some white, gray, and dark red bits mixed into its hair and spilling onto the ground.  Feeling quite foolish for trying to revive a body with a cracked-open skull, I sheepishly got up, and awkwardly walked away to salvage my dignity in the anonymity of the meandering crowd of bystanders.

Now I was a few paces from a bronze sculpture quite different from my dumb guardian.  A man in a military uniform of another time, designed to look good rather than to be unseen, sat atop a muscular rearing horse with forelegs curled high above me as if ready to box.  Its full regal mane flowed down from between its erect ears directed squarely ahead to perceive the fate to which it had been guided by its master. The man held the reigns in his left hand and in the right held a sword high in the air.  He boldly shouted a mute battle cry, rallying his invisible allies against his invisible foe.  The fused pair posed a few feet up atop a slab of stone carved with a pattern of clear borders and bevels.  Clinging to the piebald discolored metal of a hind leg I saw a modern man of flesh and blood and plastic garb.

I asked him if he was alright, and he turned his dazed, frowning face to me.  Slowly, he nodded and peeled himself off his guardian.  “What happened?” he asked, as if he hadn’t watched the whole thing from a spectacular vantage.  Not wanting to state the obvious, I shrugged, then turned to watch the hurried procession of emergency vehicles that were arriving.  Their urgent sirens grew louder as they approached, layering on top of the wails and moans, eventually drowning them out.

There was nothing left for me to do here, and my immediate presence in the mess was only a hindrance to the experts, so I removed myself a few steps away and watched the medics work.  I couldn’t say they moved slowly, but there was no urgency in their actions or faces.  They worked at saving lives as if it was their job, taking a moment first to put on disposable nitrile gloves.  The urgency pressed in around them when those who loved the bodies being worked on implored and inquired at them, but they took notice of this only when it interfered with their work, then intervening only enough to end the distraction.

I watched as one medic who had made a request to his colleague turned his head to face her as he repeated the request.  I looked at her face and saw that it had begun to twist and scrunch at the glaring horror of the scene; I thought it might implode.  Powerful electric human urgency was buzzing through her mind, frying any deliberate thoughts, creating a negative space where fear and denial echoed in a growing feedback loop.  It sucked her face into a deeper gnarl, squeezing out a few tears.  Her colleague repeated his request again, and the calm, loud, confident voice undecorated by emotion was a hand reaching out to her as she spiraled in the abyss, and she took it, focused on the narrow task she’d been given, and returned to act in the scene.

The bystanders became onlookers and began to form a crowd around the carnage and the professional work of its undoing.  A woman bumped into my shoulder, and we turned to look into each others faces.  Beaming confusion, she asked me, “Why?”, as if she didn’t already know.  Not wanting to confront the denial, I shrugged and shook my head, then began to leave.

As I rounded the corner of a skyscraper, the scene passed away and I was back among a sea of faceless pedestrians.  Had it really happened?  I looked down and saw there was blood on my hands.  Yes, it had happened. And in that happening, I thought to myself, I had helped.  I felt satisfied at my accomplishment, and my thoughts and feet turned towards home, where I’d wash up and change, then maybe order some food and read up on the news to stay up to date on this event.  Realizing I could do this now, I pulled out my phone and checked my preferred news aggregator and began to read as I walked.  The hubbub of the city around me faded from my mind and the cloud returned.

Letter to the Others on the Eve of Their Departure

Saturday, October 7th, 2017

Good Morning! We hope this letter finds you well.

Look, this diversity thing just isn’t working out. It’s not you… but it’s also not us, the descendants of those who build this nation. It’s all of us, because diversity itself can never work.

In truth, this has all been a huge mistake. The people who invited you here were mentally defective and shamefully ignorant. Really, this is quite embarrassing for us as we realize how bad of a decision it was to give them power. We’re kicking ourselves about it.

Some of them were deluded into believing that there are no real biological differences between us, which apart from being just plain pseudoscience, raises the question of why they felt it was so important to bring you here in the first place. If there’s no difference between us and you, then why did they think it was so important to bring you here?

Most likely they did not think things through to that point. Actually, they were likely not thinking at all; they were just repeating what people they foolishly esteemed said in an attempt to gain for themselves some of that esteem. Others claimed to be trying to help you, but rather than simply try to help you where you were, they vainly believed that the best way to help you was to bring you into our presence, as if denying you from basking in our wondrous proximity was somehow cruel. Yes, their low estimation of you and their paternalistic attitude truly is shameful. As I said, it’s really become clear how stupid it was for us to put any trust in these clowns.

This series of bad decisions has led us all (you and us together) to where we are now: as fractured and mutually resentful as we are diverse. In this mixed environment, any interaction between members of these groups carries with it an inherent group aspect. One is forced to consider whether a disparity or an offense was due to a group preference. Did he get ahead because members of his group treated him more beneficially than members of other groups? Was her attack on a member of an out-group motivated by an in-group preference? Even if we wanted to, how can we expect to remove each group’s in-group preference without destroying that which makes them unique? Because of the obvious benefits an in-group preference give a group, this is a Mexican standoff in which the last group to disarm itself of its group identity wins, and the other groups are suckers.

By attempting to share a nation-state, we find ourselves in a zero-sum situation, where the ascendance of any one group is necessarily the decline of the others. Ignoring these group dynamics puts one at a disadvantage as surely as any ignorance. In addition, any direction we as a whole might choose to pursue would necessitate a set of standards of behavior and success that could be achieved in differing degrees by different groups, with the inevitable result being that any direction or goal is unfair to some group. This has made it impossible have any standards but the most basic. Ultimately, beneath their rationalizations, this may be what those who invited you here wanted. Those who have no confidence in themselves and believe themselves to be weak can find a selfish comfort in tearing down all standards.

But enough about them and the problems they’ve caused; let’s get to the solution. We find ourselves in a situation where we cannot coexist safely, sanely, or satisfactorily within the same nation-state, and yet we have no desire to treat you ill. If you understand this, and similarly harbor no ill intent towards us, then the solution is clear: you will return home with mutual goodwill and our aid.

We know this will not be too much trouble because for the vast majority of you, either you or your parents came here as a simple “move” not too much more involved than moving from New York to Los Angeles, and so a return will have a similar simplicity.

Those of you who have known no homes but ours because you were born in our nations may feel concern that your home nations will be foreign to you. This is understandable, but we would like to point out to you that there will be many others like you, and that amongst them you will find a community that is most fitting. Further, the skills and knowledge you’ve gained here may prove quite valuable to your group as a whole.

In addition to the wealth you have accumulated in our nations, which may be worth more in your new old homes, we would like to provide you with a cash award to help get you settled. Consider this an apology for the regrettable misunderstandings that brought you into this mess.

We wish you well and have great hope that you will all flourish and thrive in your own ways when you are finally free to decide for yourselves just exactly what success means for you. If you’d like to keep in touch, we’d be excited to hear all about it.

The Great Clarification

Monday, August 21st, 2017

To shut down a white person’s brain, to see what a blue screen of death looks like on a white face, show it a photo of Hitler.

With Charlottesville, the traumatic symbols spiked the collective frontal lobe of the white race. Now we see a fully submissive and docile population, ready to happily shed any freedom, ready to give up any resource, ready to turn the other other cheek.  The Washington Post, CNN, the governor of Virginia — all of these, and more of their kind, hold the leash and they are leading the white masses out behind the shed with a 12 gauge in the other hand.

It’s not pretty.  It induces a feeling of fatalism, despair. Western civilization is just giving up.

But it’s not over yet, and every sudden yank on the leash provokes the beast more.  The situation becomes clearer with every atrocity, every suppression, and every further twisting and multiplication of the falsehoods.  Those paying attention — resisting the lure of distraction into blissful oblivion — and choosing the path of life will escape their mental shackles and see how the sides have actually sorted out.

White people have divided into two sides. On one side they will see a people who have chosen to continue to exist, and on the other they will see the former’s cast off husk of shed dead skin, remaining animated by hateful necromancy a while longer as a hindrance. One side has a future, the other chooses not to.

This is the great clarification. We are forced to make a choice between death and life. Ultimately, this is a process of refinement, focus, and re-ignition. A new energy enters the fray. We are no longer talking about airy concepts that will have no effect on our lives, which is why most people use them as lifestyle accessories, adorning themselves in the latest visionary, artistic or progressive ideas. These are not trends like owning a fidget spinner or binge-watching Game of Thrones on Netflix. This is life and death for us all.

As always, Darwin prevails. Those who chose to align to the laws of the universe by wanting to live and evolve will produce the founders of the next cycle of Western civilization.  We who now notice and oppose the forces of Western decline precede them.  We are the survivors, the real visionaries, and the people who will create the next stage of Western civilization.

Visions Of The Coming Purge

Thursday, June 22nd, 2017

In his dimly lit attic workroom, the inventor tightened the final screw, and flipped the power switch. The robot lit up and awoke, taking in his surroundings with an unchanging gaze that shone aggression through bright red eyes.

“Who are you?” His maker stood in front of the robot with stern anticipation, his eagerness to see the fruits of his life’s labour still held in check by lingering sceptical doubts.

The robot quickly turned its head and took in the form of the man before him.  “I AM SODOMOTRON.”  The voice was loud, monotone, and clouded in a raspy distortion that seemed to give the crudely computer generated sound an organic feeling. “WHO ARE YOU?”

This was new.  None of the previous failed prototypes had posed its own question so soon after awakening.  Could this be a sign that he’d succeeded?  The maker tried restraining his joy at his promising creation’s animation, knowing that the true test of the robot had yet to come.  But the attempt was futile, and his face beamed out a wild jubilant desire for the manifestation of his greatest dream.  

“I–I am your maker,” he said. The moment of truth lay ahead.

Sodomotron glared motionlessly, his prominent inflected brow seeming to exude pure disgust at the weakness of the squishy, quivering, flesh bag in his way.  The light from those eyes was unpleasant, and filled the man’s vision to the edges with red, as if becoming drenched in blood, but he forced himself to stare directly back into them, straining to show no sign of self-doubt or fear. 

The sound of a short hydraulic twitch originating in the robot’s lower structure caused his heart to jump and rail against its cage of ribs, but his overriding drive to live to see the metal beast unleashed upon the world, to know that it would make the world a better place was the anchor with which he forced himself calm.  Finally, the voice once again bellowed, this time at a subtly lowered tone, “ABOVE WEAKNESS THRESHOLD.”

Dual relief washed over the man.  He would be spared, he would remain unviolated.  But more important than that, he had looked into the eyes of the beast and therein gained an inexplicable confidence in the soundness of his creation.  He’d done it.  His dream had become real.

For years, the inventor had observed that in human society, the natural predators became the prey and so a mouse-like ineptitude had prevailed in all that humanity did. Evil and stupidity always won, usually on the backs of vast popularity by people who were as casual with the truth as they were with their paychecks, and anything good or honest was smashed down to the roars of pleasure by the jubilant crowd. The only solution was a mass purge of the weak, and in this instrument of terror, the inventor felt he may have created the true salvation of his race.

He addressed the mechanical embodiment of domination.  “Sodomotron!”  The maker’s eye’s glowed back red light as little embers, scorching away any remaining doubt.  “What is your purpose?”

Waiting no longer, the robot arose to its full towering height, rapidly thudded across the room and crashed through the door.  Not pausing to look back, it rumbled one last time in a bowel-loosening timbre:

“I AM SODOMOTRON.  I SODOMIZE THE WEAK.”

Nonsense Leftists Say

Wednesday, June 21st, 2017

“He’s hungry, and I have food,” said the man being devoured by a rabid dog. “I have no more right to my flesh than he does.”

“We must not give in to fear,” said the man calmly being pummeled by a drunk. “Fighting back is exactly what the he wants.”

“All men are potential rapists,” said the woman to the men who would die to defend her.

“It is a grave injustice to be ruled over with no voice in governance; we demand a share of the power,” cried the gonads to the brain.

“We simply want to live, grow, and reproduce, just like every other cell,” said the bacterium.  “It’s xenophobic to create supremacist definitions such as ‘host’ and ‘infection’.”

“I feel like a bird,” said the rabbit as he jumped off a cliff.

“Look at all these beautiful, vibrantly colored paints,” said the artist.  “I will mix them all together uniformly and spread the mixture evenly across my canvas.”

“Love is love,” said the man to the boy as he opened a bottle of lubricant.

“Your appetites are unsustainable,” said the cat lady to her multiplying clowder.  “You’re just going to have to learn to live together with less.”

“Violence never solved anything,” said the man as he watched raiders take his harvest again.  “We simply need to educate them and open a dialog.”

“I’m not an extremist, don’t lump me in in together with them,” said the new leader installed by the occupying force.  “I didn’t participate in the invasion, and I denounce violence in all its forms.”

***

They call it an “awakening” because in a relatively short span of time, you come to realize that everything you have been told is not only wrong but designed to conceal the real problem: our civilization is in decline and just about everyone is lying, crazy or otherwise delusional. Nothing can be trusted.

Our society fell years ago, and those of us who still believe in the idea of civilization are under assault. What remains of a once-great civilization is being steered into oblivion by the dizzyingly insane and malicious.  If not stopped, they will continue to recklessly destroy, disintegrate, and grind up into meaningless shreds anything of value. 

The longer this continues, the uglier our options for survival become. We are not yet at the end.  We are far from the end. The end is not even an end, just a greater slow slide into irrelevance and third world style subsistence living. Those of us who are fighting are struggling for the ability to exist on a better level than the majority of humanity who live in poverty, corruption, disorder and filth.

Destroyers of civilization have disordered minds ruled by their appetites. They know only their own desires, and are constantly stewing with reality-denying nonsense. Those with clear minds who glare back unfazed at realty, those with an innate desire to know and understand truth, will reject this nonsense and join our ranks. But they are an eternal minority, not just here but in all of humanity.

Those who do not quietly shrink back when danger approaches but stand erect with feet firmly planted in the ground, eager for glory — these will fight with us. Those who have enough love in their hearts to imagine a civilization that is not constantly in decline, and to look instead toward the possibilities of greatness and beauty which this abundant life offers us, they will come to understand us.

Be patient. This crisis has taken centuries to become visible to the normal above-average intelligence person. Most are afraid of what is required and so will make excuses, rationalize and bow out. They will go back to their televisions, political platitudes, jobs and shopping as a way to silence the fears in their minds. This is a miserable way to live, but it is morally and intellectually easier than facing the problem head on.

Humanity has survived many bottlenecks, or events where most of us died or faded away, in the past. Ultimately, this horrific era of modernity may become a great filter through which our people will pass, leaving only the most honest, most courageous, strongest, and noblest. The future is dark but through it shines a luminosity that tells us that beyond this layer, greatness awaits.

Against Free Speech

Saturday, May 27th, 2017

What does “free speech” mean?  Like any “human right,” it is only vaguely defined: people should be allowed to say whatever they want, and should not be prevented from doing so.  

The definition immediately raises questions.  What about screaming “fire” in a crowded theater?  That has obvious immediate harmful effects, and so everyone is comfortable marring the clean absolute freedom with caveats to the effect that it only applies in reasonable situations.  A crack in the clarity of the freedom appears, and soon a gang of subsequent exceptions crowd in, widening the rend until the whole thing collapses and leaves behind a garish rubble heap of political correctness and hate speech.  

Now the new and improved definition of free speech goes as follows: people should be allowed to say whatever conforms to the prevailing narratives, and the government shouldn’t stop them in an obvious way, unless it’s hate speech, and in that case they should go to jail.”

This colossal failure gives us a chance to reassess.

What is our intent with free speech?  What state are we aiming towards, what is our goal?  What is it about free speech that we like, and is free speech the best vessel for that?

What we want is an absence of restrictions while pursuing and creating truth, virtue, and beauty.

Free speech is an absence of restrictions for anyone while pursuing anything.

When stated this way, the indiscriminate egalitarian nature of free speech becomes obvious.  Egalitarianism is so deeply ingrained and reinforced at nearly every moment in the modern environment that it takes us deliberate effort to even recognize its presence.  Since it is inherently false–humans are not equal; equality is a concept outside of the natural world and only makes sense in a purely abstract setting like mathematics–its presence will always confuse, misdirect, and corrupt.

In this case, defending the right of anyone to say anything is not the best path towards truth, virtue, and goodness.  At best, it’s an awkward, flawed method of sneaking in true, good, and beautiful speech along with a torrent of what is effectively noise.  It’s an inherently egalitarian strategy for overcoming or holding back the more obviously destructive excesses of egalitarianism, and so ensures its own failure by having a foundation upon the force that it is meant to oppose.

Let’s cut to the point.  The best path towards truth, virtue, and goodness is simply to uphold those directly.  Since these are not recognizable to all, and some can recognize them better than others, this requires hierarchy.  In the egalitarian mindset, this is seen as unfair, because some are treated differently than others, but once human differences are taken into account and egalitarianism is rejected, it becomes clear that in fact the only way to be fair is to treat some differently than others in accordance with their differing natures.

When “speech” is not treated as a singular, indivisible abstract concept we become able to separate signal from noise because different subsets of society will have different criteria for what is considered noise.  Some will hear a Bach fugue as a meaningless jumble of frantic notes and others will hear a pop song with as much interest as a washing machine, but this only becomes a problem when there’s only one radio station.

Similarly, when the task of governing is justly assigned to those who are most suited to perform the task well, whose traits include a greater ability to recognize truth, there is less noise amongst the group than there would be if it included everyone, some of whom are less able to recognize truth.  And when this latter group is not burdened unjustly with reigns of power it is not suited to hold, there is less cause for concern when it produces speech that strays from truth.  Overall, as a side-effect, this allows for greater freedom of speech for all because there is less need to police speech.

Under current conditions, free speech is often a useful tool that can overcome restrictions against true speech, virtuous speech, and beautiful speech.  Let us not mistake the method for the ultimate goal.

Expunging Nonwhite Supremacy from the White Psyche

Tuesday, May 9th, 2017

The West is sick.  Westerners have seen their once-great empires fall and their once-great cultures dissipate into inert materialism cloaked with decadence, and have become demoralized and despondent.  

A miserable rot has grown in the Western soul that fills them with self-doubt.  Under the guise of being morally critical of their actions and their history, whites have developed a self-loathing that colors their thinking from deep within an unacknowledged crevasse in their psyche.  This depression has left many whites with a feeling that bad things will happen to white people, and they will deserve it.

Like seeing the chemo-ravaged body of a terminal cancer patient or a listless mangy dog, observing a man stricken with white guilt is revoltingly tragic.

One way this sickness manifests is in attitudes towards mass nonwhite immigration.  Many whites either dismiss mass nonwhite immigration as natural and neutral, as simply allowing people to do what they want, to travel and live on any part of the globe they want and think no further than that.  Others actively advocate for nonwhite immigration as a means of being “nice” by allowing foreigners a chance to participate in Western wealth.  Both of these attitudes require a myopic refusal to consider consequences beyond the immediate.

The reality is that space on Earth is limited.  There is a finite and unchanging quantity of land around this planet upon which to live, to cultivate, to extract resources from, and to simply enjoy.  When one individual uses a portion of land in a given way, that limits how others can use that land.  That these limits are not hard — homes can be made smaller and stacked higher, agriculture could be intensified — does not mean that they do not exist.  That they are not immediately visible — a city-dweller may wander into the countryside, look at an empty field or a forest, and only see more room for humans to live — does not mean that they do not exist.

Because of these limits, every instance of allowing one individual to use a portion of land, whether directly or indirectly, necessarily means that others cannot use that land to the extent they could in that individual’s absence.  Other factors may be at play to make it a net benefit, but denying the existence of these limits or ignoring them is delusional.

Mass nonwhite immigration to white nations means that whites in those nations become more limited while the nonwhites benefit.  Beneath the flimsy myopic rationalizations, in order for a white mind to believe this is a good thing, there must be something within their psyche that prefers benefiting nonwhites.  Something in their mind is causing them to act in favor of nonwhite supremacy.

Once a nonwhite population has accumulated in a Western nation, we see an even more blatant manifestation of nonwhite supremacy in affirmative action and related practices.

What is causing this sickness, and how can it be cured?  Simply exposing it and bringing it into the open air of sustained conscious thought is a large first step.  Beyond that we can suggest these possible causes along with their remedies.

A skewed understanding of history: Someone who is told exclusively ideologically selected and exaggerated anecdotes of their peoples’ history will tend to internalize a bias towards that ideology.  A bias towards white inferiority and nonwhite superiority (two inseparable sides of the same coin) in public education and mass entertainment is clearly visible to those not under their unthinking spell.

The remedy here is simply to read more plain history.  It may be tempting to administer this historical learning through a counter-bias that seeks to show only the nice aspects of the in-group’s history and vilifies the out-groups’, but this will not rectify the underlying problem, which the belief or feeling that if one’s group has historically done bad things, then that groups deserves punishment.  In reality, all groups have done bad things–slavery and conquest are the historical norm.  This realization arises naturally out of a mind that has learned broadly and deeply the history of many groups.  From there, history becomes not a source of guilt and depression, but a source of data that informs a better understanding of how civilizations can work, and a source of inspiration and meaning through understanding the lives of great men.

Social posturing: The current cultural climate in the west glorifies abasing whiteness and rewards praising nonwhiteness, and this partly arises out of a mindset that equates victimhood with righteousness, which requires viewing nonwhites as eternal victims.  While insincere adherence to this social standard is technically possible, and some whites may simply mouth the required platitudes without true belief, we can observe that this adherence is more effective at increasing social standing when it is sincere, and engaging in nonwhite supremacy is easier and more mentally comfortable when truly believed.  In practice, within the morass of fleeting fragmented thoughts arising chaotically between long stretches of distraction that constitutes the modern mind there may be no clear answer to what is truly believed and what is simply repeated and imitated.

If we accept that, particularly during modernity, for the bulk of humanity the norm is to prioritize alignment with prevailing social currents above rational thought or spiritual guidance, then we see that attacking this problem directly will not work.  The best logical arguments and the most glorious appeal to a beautiful cosmic order don’t stand a chance against fear of ostracism and the ecstasy of social acceptance and elevation.  But this psychic toxin is not entirely incurable: rather than try to convince the masses to push against the social currents, change the currents themselves.  This means not focusing on the great mass of social followers, but on those who they follow, which is necessarily a smaller, more manageable and replaceable group.

Curing this sickness will be a vital step towards a population that has the self-confidence and clear thinking needed to restore Western civilization, and is unapologetic about the greatness to which it aspires.

What Really Killed Those Cute Bahamian Swimming Piggies

Friday, March 17th, 2017

There is a predictable pattern to the way that mass media news outlets report on events.  First reports tend to be highly sensational, and either due to ignorance, bias that favors an ideological narrative, or bias towards the popular (“clickbait”), also tend to leave out or misreport important facts.  This departure from truth is further amplified by social media, which promotes simple explanations that point the blame solely at a guilty few who can be satisfyingly hated due to presumed malicious motivation.  We have explicated the steps in this cycle previously.

So it is with the Bahamian swimming pigs.  After seven of these beloved creatures were found dead on their tiny home island, the first, biggest, wave of mass exposure this event received cast the blame onto a few reckless tourists who through cruel stupidity fed the pigs alcohol.  This was a popular framing, first because it allowed people to indulge in feel-good hate against an unfair oppressor, and second because it allows advertisement of an easily achieved personal moral superiority: look at these pig murderers, I would never murder a pig for laughs, and therefore I am good, even though that’s a very low standard for good.

Now, after the Internet outrage mobs have dispersed to new distractions, National Geographic reports that there may not be any malicious oppressors at all:

Though initial reports suggested that tourists had given the pigs fatal doses of alcohol, Humane Society inspector Ventoi Bethune told National Geographic that the dead swine had likely ingested sand.

Veterinarians who visited the site found large quantities of sand in the deceased animals’ stomachs, which Bethune says may have been caused by a recent influx of visitors throwing small amounts of food on the beach.

“The pigs have been on the island so long, they are used to foraging for natural food,” Bethune says. The pigs would only go the beach for an occasional treat.

But with the increase in tourism, the pigs are relying on humans more than ever.

Though the modern mindset is shaped from an early age to expect harm from intentionally evil agents–like comic book super villains–in reality those threats are not so great, because they’re rare, easy to spot, and easy to deal with.  If the pig murderers had been a few malicious individuals, we could imprison, exile, or execute the culprits and the problem would be completely solved; at least until another set of this rare type of person appeared.

What is in fact far more dangerous is carelessness and well-meaning naiveté.  This is commonplace; its negative effects are far more difficult to spot, and there is no obvious solution.

None of the individuals responsible for the pigs’ deaths intended to kill the pigs.  None of them expected it to happen, and most likely the vast majority don’t even realize that it happened.  If we wanted to assign blame, we would have to hand out a large number of fractional pig murder sentences, which is absurdly impractical and ineffective.  And to hate those responsible, to declare ourselves morally superior, we would need to pass a higher standard than the cartoonish modern conceptions of morality such as “don’t be a dick”.  Those who fed the pigs probably thought they were being nice, friendly, and good.

But we are able to sketch out some direction that a solution would take if we leave behind the need to blame as the most important component of a solution.  Assigning blame is important when it means holding people responsible for their failures, but becomes a distraction from solutions when punishment and retribution take the place of identifying causes.

In this case we see that the pigs died because they ate too many bits of food left in the sand, which was the result of a combination of too careless humans, and too many humans.  From there we can propose either making the human visitors less careless (good luck), or reducing the number of human visitors to the island.

Though this is less satisfying than beating a few assholes, it would mean the remaining cute swimming piggies would be less likely to die — and that is what really matters.

The Subreal

Thursday, February 23rd, 2017

A person doing a science job fills out a series of forms concordant with the appropriate regulations to request allocation of government resources to a proposed study.  The forms go through the bureaucracy, moving from one office to another, eat ink to propel themselves and mature enough to watch the fresh new forms they’ve spawned move on through their own approval processes.

The rubber stamps are collected, the study is approved, and begins.  More people doing science jobs are recruited or reassigned, and the government resources are channeled into the subcontractors and lowest bidders.  Science papers written by other science-doing people are read.  After an acceptable duration of extensions past the deadline, a new science paper has been created by this set of science-doing people.

A press release is sent out, and a hundred news articles are excreted from the appropriate templates making the same recommendation that resulted from the study in appropriately different words.  The conclusion of this highly structured time and effort is this: you, person in the general public, should not clean your ears with q-tips because you might press too hard and damage your ears.

This is not fiction, not a contrived example — this happened.  And this type of thing happens often, every day, all around us.

It is subreal.

The subreal is the hyper-mundane minutiae with which the modern world forcefully confronts us.  It hits us with a sense of wondering confusion similar to the surreal, but instead of being fantastical, instead of having a feel of being far-fetched and bizarre, it’s the opposite — it’s banal, so shockingly unremarkable and un-nuanced.  The painfully unimportant things that are treated so seriously and carefully.  The contradiction between being so outrageous, yet simultaneously so unworthy of outrage, beats us down psychologically and induces a passive apathy.

We are being forced to have public discussions on whether someone should have a legal right to choose their pronouns.  Who wants to care about this?!  What possible response to this makes any sense but ridicule?  And yet, academics must put significant intellectual effort into its refutation, lest it grow and metastasize unchecked.  This feels like it can’t be real.

It’s the routinization and systematization of that which could be done without conscious thought, like a mandatory corporate seminar that provides an acronym of steps on how not to sexually assault coworkers.  This puts the nuanced, organic experience of social interaction onto rails that apply a coarse legalistic set of rules to allowable behaviors, as if programming a robot.  Maintain at least 0.8 meters separation between coworkers.  Do not comment on physical appearance.  Do not touch each other, unless only the palms of the hand touch in an allowed way.  Disable all reproductive subroutines.

It’s a society whose culture consists of the lowest common denominator of human experience–propaganda that somehow seems to manage to inject synthetic hormones for sentimentality into the naked facts that: we all eat, we all have positive feelings for our children, we all don’t want to die — and further, that this deflated one-size-fits all husk of a culture is celebrated.

It’s an environment where the most popular forms of socializing revolve around groups who merely like a manufactured and mass-replicated entertainment product.  Satisfy your need for human interaction by repeating phrases from the product, or relating your excitement at an aspect of the product.  This will not be difficult, you may simply choose an aspect that is present in every incarnation in the genre: mutual agreement with your co-humans can be found in relating the satisfaction from seeing the oppressed character righteously pummel the ultimate oppressor who has no motivation but irrational hate, or in the saccharine pleasure of the invariantly repeated melody.  Everyone you meet will do the same, and so you will feel accepted.

Where an entire life can be lived without experiencing any semblance of a noble action requiring courage, loyalty, or honor.  The phrase “so brave” is more likely to be uttered with derisive irony than genuine praise, and the phrase “I love you” is made routine and has the sincerity of corporate marketing.  Popular ethics is composed of Kindergarten teacher admonishments: be nice, don’t hit, and don’t you think you should share?

It’s a mechanized life, scheduled down to the minute, of not really doing things, but being places chosen from an approved menu of options.  A job?  Choose one from the classifieds.  A career?  Choose a program from a school.  Show up at this time, then leave at that time.  At night, return to your shelter, chosen from the options offered by your realtor.  Companionship?  This app gives you several options that have been determined to match by an algorithm whose inputs include your choices of entertainment products.  We’ll make sure that if you are a person who watched and liked Star Wars you won’t have to talk to a person who watched and liked the New York Mets.  We understand you’re not a person like that.  It’s important!

Go on an adventure, buy yourself a motorcycle.  But you must also buy and wear one of these Department of Transportation approved helmets, and you must not leave your boot laces tied too long.  This is for your safety, and if you don’t do so you may receive a printed piece of paper designed to enforce the regulatory details resulting from decades of revised legislation which means that you must pay the government the amount that legislators have agreed will make the general public safer.  Once you meet all the regulations you may have fun on your approved exciting adventure.

What are you?  You are a clump of cells which are clumps of atoms.  Where are you?  You are on an insignificant pale blue dot lost somewhere in the incomprehensibly vast emptiness.  Why?  As experts in the mundane, we can confidently assure you that none of this means anything.  There is no forest, only a clump of trees.

When the vitality, the idiosyncrasies, and meaning has been sucked out of life, what is left is the subreal.

In this environment, being real is radical.  Sanity is not an extreme, it’s sandwiched between the surreal and the subreal.  It’s a sum that’s more than it’s parts.  It’s fitting details into a larger coherent context.  It’s an acknowledgement that rigid, explicit rules miss important exceptions and are often an avoidance of a solution.

What is real is honesty, identity, courage, loyalty, virtue, responsibility, and much more than words or abstractions can capture.  The system produced by the subreal is like a ship with only a maintenance crew and no captain: the handrails are cleaned daily and the engine operates within the specified parameters, but none have awareness beyond their assigned tasks.  When this system inevitably finds itself in stormy waters, those of us with souls will find joy in the richer, fuller experience of life that will arise.

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