Patriot. The word has baggage, in this there is no denial. What does it invoke, convoke, provoke for you? Is a Patriot a mindless, flag-waving jingoist of the Fox News variety? The sort who says “no fat chicks” but would be hard pressed to describe his toes because he hasn’t seen them in years? Maybe he is a twitchy youngster with plenty of visible tattoos and a Richard Spencer haircut. Or, he could be a some other kind of smol armed degenerate with oddly died hair, questionable causes and a penchant for quoting the Constitution.
Which is the true Patriot? Are all Patriots American? Are all Americans Patriots? A silly question, but these are silly times. No. Many Americans aren’t Patriots, and many are. And most Patriots aren’t American. Because there aren’t many Patriots left in America.
Of course. Patriotism is loyalty. Words have meaning. What is the root of Patriot? Patria. What means this? Fatherland. In a world where men are increasingly hard pressed to love, much less like their fathers, it is understandable how the waters are muddied. Patria – Fatherland. The Land of the Fathers. Your Fathers.
It has become fashionable to vent spleen, anger, hate. It is therefore easy to miss the forest for the trees. After all, the ewiger Wald is eternal. I know my Fathers. Long is the line in the that brings me to the start of my family tree. In this I am lucky. But that does not make it easy. All the worse it was for my fathers, who were forced to divorce their loyalties from their brothers. English history is rife with civil wars. Struggles of conscience are a terrible weight. It is easy to judge, with our rose coloured glasses.
I am a straight, White man. My blood is red, I know this because I spill a little every day at work to feed my wife and son. Beyond that, I am a New Englander, born and bred in Maine. I can trace my lineage to the year 1400 on the nose, to Suffolk in East Anglia. Much further than that is hard to find, since it wasn’t until the late 1300s that we started making surnames anyhow. Even so, those surnames pointed to a place. Quite the Middle Class phenomenon.
Can I be a Patriot too? I love my Homeland where I live, and I know I have a Motherland which I dream of seeing before I die. I like the company of other New Englanders. We share an experience that translates quite well, but should not do so. That’s the funny thing about it. The same, but different. But there’s an ease that comes from keeping with your own that can’t be denied. Of the folks I know, the ones I get along with best have UK or Scandinavian extraction. Maybe because there’s the fewest hurdles. Those little shared experiences. I digress.
What you cannot be, is a Patriot without Tribalism. It is an oxymoron. Just because the word Tribalism has been damnified doesn’t excise truth from the claim. A Somalian emigree can be a Patriot, yes. But his loyalty is going to be tribal. He does not, cannot care about your America, your Maine, your Danmark, Deutschland or France. How could he? His fathers are Somalian. To wit, when the European colonises he is a Patriot still. New England has her blood ties in the name. There’s a reason the English-American writing this, with ties older than New England, feels at home here but ill at ease in New York, or the South. It’s not because I hate them, but because I know I’m not on home turf. Outside the Tri-state and parts of Massachusetts is to me a brave new world I don’t need.
So I am a Patriot, in service of a New England governed by it’s own fathers. I esteem the wit and banter of other Yankees above most, I respect my Germanic cousins. Outside this sphere is just that, outside. That’s my bubble, where I want my influence to thrive. I don’t wish ill on any of the others, but it seems to me that it is a British, read English, read Germanic character that comes to me from my fathers. Why would I not busy myself with things that reflect this? Why would I not seek from cultures who have the stuff I’m made of?
Shouldn’t we strive to give our children a world with some internal consistency? You should know your roots, and water them. If you have none, make some. Your alternatives are being slowly eaten by a weak, gormless rootless world. A rootless world has no defense against drag-queen story hour and the soon-to-be validated pædophilia that awaits.
The mechanism is easy to grasp. Rootless men have no values. Values are tribal things. Validation and value share a root word, you’ll recall. Thus the rootless seek tribe in the Global Village. Their validation is here. On the other hand, because it stands for nothing, it has no rules to break. We’ve gone from gay “marriage” to “we’re coming for your children” a-la the so-very-funny faggot choir we all know and I’m sure love. Nothing is sacred for them, except passing indulgence and their perpetually failing dopamine which presses their advantage toward increasingly degenerate shenanigans.
Universal humanity, a terribly impractical dream. Why? The premise is too vague, the scope is too vast. To demand the Englishman and African trade places and become the same is unreasonable. But to demand they do this while picking their colour in the rainbow flag is insane. Furthermore, the dubious consent implied in the whole of it all leads to resentment. Something we with moral cores forget is that the Globo-Homo Gayplex fights among itself. Do Black Lives matter more than Trans? Do Trans “women” get women’s rights? SHOULD a man with a mangled Wang beat the piss out of ladies for the coveted “Ficas Cup” championship? Let them fight. It is a blessing for us.
Let them. ZOG is likely rallying to bludgeon us with the Delta Airline Strain of the MooGoo Die Fam Kung Flu Megadeath Delight (C-C-CoVid 19.) The vast majority of “mankind” will gladly suck the gubmint tit in their apartments they can’t afford, with five masques and a buttplug reminding themselves how much Black Trans Pacific Island Lives Matter.
We, meanwhile, should be doing something else. Know your neighbours, know their minds. Plant doubts about this nonsense – wherever you go. Make Normies uncomfortable. Brutally uncomfortable. Why should any of us be comfortable with this ridiculous status quo? If you’re one who fears speaking their mind, think about what that means? It means there are looming consequences for doing wrongthink. That means your assessment of freedom needs tweaking.
Teach men pride in their heritage. In dark times, can you count on your neighbour? If he has more in common with you than his undiscovered enemy, he’ll be more likely to have common cause. Your body positive Trans Swahili wheelchair basketball playing lounge singer friend is more than likely going to throw you under the short bus for social credit anyway. While the average idiot consumer poses no great threat, what they tattle on you to does. That’s something you should think about.
Back to Tribalism. Some time ago I spoke with one Anders Kjær over at Nordensgrænse. It was a great talk, and is a fond memory I often visit. One of the things he stressed we need is “ruthless nepotism.” And he’s right. It’s a thought I’ve had many times. That’s something those who would destroy all indigenous culture do. They favour their own. Contrary the Right seeks for meritocracy, which in a world where Narural Law is followed would work. But it isn’t. Meanwhile positions of power are claimed by those who wish us ill and subordinate positions are selected for based on party loyalty.
You can’t combat that with half a brain. You don’t combat that by cowtowing to the rules. You do by favouring your own. A point to consider: it’s no big deal to drive our own into the arms of the enemies of culture when we: a. Refuse to elevate our own culture and, b. Treat our own like profligates. An entire generation of Whites have embraced Anti-White policy because their own elders gave them a bill of goods when what they needed was mentorship, understanding and discipline. Instead they got ignored, guilted and coddled. It’s not hard to see why Millenials and Zoomers identify more with the alien than their host culture. Their introduction to it more than likely blew chunks.
Hospitality was among our People’s biggest virtues for a reason. It breeds loyalty. Not servility. Loyalty. Invite a man into your home, make him family. If he has a conscience he looks at you different than the man who won’t give him the time of day. Those in your hospitality are far more likely to listen to you when you tell them they should be proud to be X.
A group like a Mannerbünd is far more likely to become anti-fragile and weather storms than, say, a normie d&d club. Values are shared, there’s a high investment. Disagreements are far less likely to be terminal, and insurmountable frustrations become manageable. So if you have such a group, managing brothers kindly will strengthen your cause. Hiring them instead of the alien, being kind to them instead of the social justice case of the week… That is the beginning of Tribe. If you can, do these things. They will spread your values farther than the internet can, and for now it’s all legal with due process. In theory.
But really, it’s harder to stab someone in the back when you’ve eaten dinner across from your host, held his son, laughed with his wife. That’s atomisation. That connectedness with our neighbour is changed out for seeking solace in far away like minds. A noble feat, but doubly unnatural. If you can, be building those close ties and keep them as close to the chest as you can. All the better when you bind on common ground, like unto like, much stronger than else onto something.