I made a mistake the other day. I did the internets. By and away I try to keep my online activities to a minimum outside of the projects thereabouts I run, or have otherwise helped with; those being essays, art, podcasts or “appearing” on the podcasts of others (for when friends have unbelievably slow news days.)
That being said, it began with my curiosity. I have been reading a book by one Vilhelm Gronbech. The book is Culture of the Teutons. I have written elsewhere the whys and hows of my interest in this, but the short is, Gronbech wrote at the head of what I hold to have been a (potential) lost golden age of anthropology.
During this time there was a kind of budding agreement between scholars of the civilised world, and a trajectory which, had it been left to her own end, would have led us toward a kith and kinship between like minds from across the Sea. The shared roots of the Englishman (and his many offshoots), the Northman (and his many offshoots), and the rest of the Germanic world were being cultivated. As it were, a tree of life was being watered. And into the mix were scattered the seeds of unity with all the rest as well; the Celt had not been forgotten, nor even the Finn if one reads between the lines of men like Liebenfels or books like the Oera Linda which all point toward an underlying unfathomable unity of Cult and Clan. Of course this unfathomability led to a variety of insights, culminating in perhaps one of the most aptly named trends to be devised by European scholars: The Speculative Sciences. That in itself is a scope I won’t tackle for this stream of consciousness.
Most of the things I find most fascinating in life have their root in the germ being grown in those fragile years. Asatru, such as it is now, was being worked upon in relative quiet. Her origins now at once can be understood as being cultivated simultaneously in the Anglosphere and Scandinavian isles. There was of course the romantic revival in Germany, too, which produced some of the finest art and music the world has ever known besides no small amount of spiritual authorship in the religion that would come of her part of it.
There are no words sumptuous enough for me to give ode to this great flowering of trve humanity. Of course, we know what happens to the unguarded wildflower. The ploughman, upon the order of his employer who cares little for things of beauty that interfere with profit and gain, crushes and grinds the wildflower into meal. The field is laid to waste, made a plot, and cash crops grow in her place. So it went, and so it goes today – only now it seems the lines are even muddier, with so many pointless distractions thrown into the mix, so many snares and traps to catch the unaware. So it went when the Nations who ought to have been brethren were made bitterest of enemies by means of the foreign interlopers among them.
So it is that to take in the words of men who went before us, maybe saw the world more clearly, is an exercise that should no more be denied than clearing the airways and learning to breathe well. We can learn lessons from them, lessons that properly applied might allow us to escape Ragnar’s fate in the snake pit – snakes here being a metaphor for something rather more serpentine or reptilian in nature, if you catch the meaning of my poor tasting referential humour. So it goes with writers like Gronbech who could have made peace with scholars like Lothrop Stoddard and bridged the Atlantic, rather than the walls which were drawn up in the wake of the Bad Wars.
To that end, one often wonders about the life of whose book he reads. Thus, the internet. It is a tool which saves money – I could spend time and money at a library only to find few if any biographies of the man stand. Or I could just ask (((google))) like the member of the unwashed masses I am.
And then I remembered, the Internet is a weapon, a tool of obfuscation reverse engineered not to clarify, but disenfranchise. It really matters not what your query is, the internet, whether by algorithm or paid agent, is there to ‘subvert your expectations.’ I could point a finger and lay some blame, and maybe I would be justified. But Zeitgeist is a powerful aspect of reality, and the unquestioning reality of the Spirit of the Times is that after a point direct intervention is no longer required and the subversive elements thrust in our path become self-actualised.
Gronbech: rather than a celebration of his life, his genius and insight, I was entreated to a seemingly ironclad agreement among the sage geniuses of the net to the tune of; oh, he’s outdated, he’s a r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ray-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sis-t-t-t-t. (That’s racist with the socially acceptable amount of fear and loathing, awe and reverence displayed.) Beyond this, he wasn’t even a REAL anthropologist, ethnologist or scientist. He was a linguist. Because, you know, language has nothing to do with anthropology and certainly, by no means, does learning lingual convention reveal aspects of humanity lost to time. Nope. Not in this timeline, bigot.
Some arguments were displayed. But by and large, it boiled down to internet logistics. Bait and switch, tactical nihilism, straw man, red herring, and so on. Shock? Imagined. Will the wonders ever cease? I abandoned my search after a while and reminded myself that, despite the seemingly overwhelming claims to the contrary, that inference has always been the engine of European success. While others allow themselves to cease and desist upon hitting mental roadblocks, we persist and carry on – even if there is a Ragnarok on the horizon. Doomed enterprises and fated journeys never stopped us from using that greatest of gifts: imagination.
So my research into Gronbech’s life halts until I have time to find better resources that don’t have a dot nothin.’ My takeaway from the whole ordeal was a reinforcement of my suspicion regarding enforcement of (often false) normative standards. Conformity is an instinct. But is it a natural instinct? I believe there is a safe haven in both yes and no. “The radical centre” it has been called.
This, in fact, is one of Gronbech’s (in my estimation) important takeaways. Contrasted to today’s world of infinite dialectics and dichotomies having neither productive tension much less synthesis, the old Teuton struck up an interesting bargain that today’s thinker is tempted to call Faustian. The ancient Teuton was able to glorify the self in service of the community. His actions, his deeds and ego could be simultaneously self-serving and collectivist. The modern mind seethes at the seeming dichotomy, but the synthesis was achieved long ago. It shouldn’t seem revolutionary, but it is. Why? Because we have been boiled down and stripped for parts. Our societies – all of them – have been cannibalised, repackaged and resold to us as simulacra of their former selves with none of the teeth or red claw. No, no, no, you get White Claw, Goy, now drink up – be excited to konsoom next White Claw. So it goes that most folks are hemmed into a box and left to rot. They do not think outside the box. It is unlikely they know there is a box. They don’t think of it until they begin to run out of air, which we are maybe beginning to see. Only so many have forgotten how to think clearly that they might yet die in that box anyway, asking if they can please get out, or have another breathing hole. So they ask of their masters who will laugh at them as they wheeze. A sad good riddance. They do not consider the positions of their “enemies,” enemies being a surrogate term for a safety valve against whom their infinite aggression can be levelled rather than the true root of their discontent… much less wonder how bitterly opposed they really are, if at all, in light of a darker shadow cast. But then, how dark can a shadow be when you live in Plato’s mouldy shoebox? Rather they reflexively lash out, if they engage in reactionary splendour at all. More often than not they withdraw into their echo chambers. It is what it is.
There exist status quos in every stratum of “society.” Here facetiously quoted for maximum sarcasm, reason being is that the author doesn’t believe we truly have society. Society invokes “social,” which can be appended with an -ism, which might naturally make one think of collectivism. And it should. Collectivism isn’t bad. This is the great failing of America’s most poorly interpreted export: the myth of the Rugged Individual.
There are shreds of the old Viking spirit to be found in the Old Stock. Say what you will of our ancestors’ discontents (and I freely admit there is much to be talked about there) they still bore a spirit of adventure. The Pilgrim Fathers did not chart a luxury liner from England. They boarded a rinky dink boat, weathered storm and stress, sickness and occasional pitstop cannibals. You might not like their full panel of (at times suffocating) morals, and you might not like the god they served. But it cannot be denied that they took great pains to engage upon a kind of crusade of conscience. It cannot be denied that they created a culture, and achieved their goals. They were an ethnostate, an image of what a lot of us want, simply not how we want it. They didn’t come for money. They didn’t come for fame. The English Puritans came to do something they felt needed doing, they couldn’t do it in Old England, and so it happened here. Whether you agree or not with the abolition of Monarchy is immaterial to the fact that they weathered and engendered no small risks in their crusades. Were they infallible? Hell no. But they are ours.
And upon arrival in New England, these Pilgrim Fathers established their Puritan Colonies. These Colonies spread out, and Calvin’s grip eventually laxened. In Maine a (they would say) libertine spirit arose. Various kinds of spiritualism cropped up in Maine, and to this day we are regarded as the ‘spooky State,’ and not just because of Stephen bloody King. In the Appalachians there arose a free spirit. In Pennsylvania, English ‘purity’ and German ‘piety’ shook hands with whatever juju the Swedes and French brought along, the latter I think might have been Huguenots whom I’m told were assimilable and amenable to the other fringe elements of European society that gave us our Founding Stocks. But the trek Westward, the Gjallarhorn that sounds at once the beginning and end of “America” is the birth of the Pioneer. Perhaps the truest face of America. Here was the “rugged individual” I’ve all been waiting for. Maybe you too.
Popular imagery has, I think, devolved. We think of the “rugged individual” and contrive the picture of the man and his gun, bravely facing the desert and the storm and the savage hordes. Can that be true? Maybe in isolated incidents. But it will always remain that the lone wolf leaves an unmarked grave, he is literally an absence of life. If the true lone gunmen were well and truly alone, who would tell his story? Well certainly not his sidekick. I will never relent my assertion that: individualism dies upon relation. If your story is told, you have been collectivised. Simple as. It is inevitable, as is civilisation.
No. The “rugged individual” was a family unit. Think of the Swiss Family Robinson, or the Little House on the Prairie of Ingalls-Wilder fame. The “rugged individuals” dragged their families along in covered wagons, braving no small distances, no shortage of diseases. Have you ever been to one of Donner’s wild Parties? Don’t, they eat you up inside. The “rugged” individual eventually lent his “individuality” to settlements out west that became icons of American identity. But to call them individualistic seems to me to be a mistake. I think the family component is just as heroic as the rugged myth. Consider the damned if you do and damned if you don’t component. Life in the Colonies wasn’t appealing, maybe they didn’t fit the Puritanical mould, maybe they didn’t like Quaker oatmeal. Whatever happened, they left. But some of they refused to choose between that rock and a hard place, and so many like their East Anglian forebears from Massachusetts, hauled up with the wives and children in tow.
Of course, I am a Yankee. My pedigree is firmly rooted in Northeastern English-America. The New England experience is mine. It belongs to me, or maybe more likely I to it. It could well be that south of the Mason-Dixon line the stereotype older Anglos have of an anarchic hinterland are true. I doubt it. Illusions of anarchy are more often than not the result of incomplete cultural understanding. Take Virginia, the difference in attitudes between a Massachusetts Puritan and a Virginia Cavalier is merely the result of our having come from opposite sides of England. The Puritans brought families, and the Cavaliers didn’t believe in meal planning and left the women at home to be brought later. Appalachia is often presented as a savage wilderness, but if one reads of their customs and habits one understands that they are merely carryovers from the Borderlands of England, Scotland and Ireland – what the Romans used to call the ‘end of the world,’ and what we once would call the Pale… beyond which nothing pleasant dwelt. Or so it went they say, if you were born to English breeding prior to 1956, let’s say.
Anyway. The long and short, American mythos aside, is that individualism can exist within the context of collectivism. But they really cannot be mutually extricated. An individual will always be shaped by a collective, even his ‘rejection’ of it is a tacit admission to it. A collective is nothing more than a hive of individuals. Many papers have been dedicated to the peculiar genius of the European. How his traits allay. How and in what way his genius differs from the genius of the Asiatic or what-have-you. That is all well and good. But an illustration is to remind the reader that the great geniuses of artistic license but rarely made odes to themselves. Grieg did not compose for the glory of Grieg, but for the glory of Norway and her folkish traditions. Rubens did not paint idle fancies, but what he thought of as ideal forms that encapsulated a spirit of a time in which he lived. These are pinnacles of culture, not of individualism. We do, in fact, have access to groups whose art tends toward individualism and the result can be summed up in the following mememtic expression: “muh dik.” We see this in the trend toward increasing nihilism, in which a general glorification of the base is observed. “Muh dicking” itself wouldn’t even be so bad, if it only served a higher purpose. We did, after all, have thriving fertility cults whose influence is technically still with us. The Oldest Cults have transformed and survived as the hidden germ from which the most viable parts of Christendom sprung. In the same way, those ancient and indeterminable cults influenced the ides and rites of Paganism, which itself shaped Christendom to no small degree. So, for those who subscribe to the idea of Cultural Christianity in which the trappings are preserved in spite of neglected dogma – you are more the spiritual kin of latter-day Roman pragmatists, than some high-minded medieval humanist seeing the genius of Christian ethics. These ethics predate the religion and its hypothetical founder, by untold ages, as it were.
So anyway. It behoves us to wonder where the lines lie. What is the sweet spot between collectivism and individualism? Where is the dialectical synthesis best achieved? Is there a universal balance? How heavily to swing factors like era, ethnicity, religion and politick weigh upon the equation? There is a degree to which it can be argued that amusement with eccentricity which can be measured as having higher output in European populations than Asiatic, accounts for a cultivation of outstanding genius. That implies a predisposition toward tolerance. It has been called the symptom of a dieing civilisation, but that also may be a scapegoat or a retrogressive obfuscation. Outliers very often propose cultural advancements. We see this in Ancient Greece. It is also unfair to say that an outlier must needs be subversive. There is no shortage of a supply of historical figures who with their eccentricities intact have serviced the State, lent it their genius, and so on. One can respect Tradition, being a healthy sort of conformity, as well as appreciate a level of deviance within predefined parameters. Rome is said to have struck up such a balance. A defining truth of our history seems to be that despite claims of absolutism in this era or that, there were always exceptions to define the rule.
Without needing long-winded thought experiments, the ancient Teutons understood this. It made the dialectical tension of Frith and Honour along with the Synthesis of Luck all the more powerful. You could even arrange the equation, because in the final analysis the scales had to be balanced. That was a sense the Ancients had that we have lost. Balance is survival. This same sensitivity existed within the Ancient Celtic and Gallic strata. I peradventure to assume at one point this was so for the Baltic and Slavic tribes also, though I know woefully little of their ancient roots beyond what I have read from Arthur Kemp. But even that precious little as I read through the material with the wife (who has finally matured enough to accept the premise) is enough to reinforce some inkling of a muted nature which still exists along the strands of our DNA waiting to play the part of cultivar once more. So it goes.
So it is worth thinking in no uncertain terms about what kind of society you want, what the role of the individual is, and how the two feed off each other. Much as I love the birdshot approach, of the scattering of narratives to destabilise the central themes of our entirely infected social structure, one has to have an end-goal in sight or the result is perpetual chaos. I myself would be perfectly content to pare New England down, to reintroduce the Town Council as the height of local power and reduce the Fed to shadows in a closet. Is this possible? I don’t know. When we reached our zenith, there was a kind of tolerance and egalitarianism among the Sons (and Daughters) of New England. This occurred after the viciousness of self-assertion (make no doubt that time was vicious.) But followed a kind of stability in which the folks of New England could explore their own selves, and branch out. True- it resulted in some hokiness. But it was ours. I would imagine a similar trend took place down south. In intimate settings with a crowd of like minds, differences can be tolerated and used as whetstones to sharpen resolve. But as it stands, with unlike peoples with no shared experience or mentality, subtle differences become stark contrasts and hostile takeovers.
This is why, even if you must subordinate it to a broader cause, an understanding of Petty Nationalism versus Ethnic or Racial Nationalism is helpful. Not everyone wants to be interchangeable parts. I don’t, you don’t. This has been a cause of dissent within the umbrella of White Nationalism proper. The details are too nuanced for the diminishing returns of this train of thought. But the strongest criticism I think is that it suffers from the same maladjustment as globalism, it treats all subordinate parties as interchangeable. It assumes that a White Anglo Saxon Protestant can move to Bratislava and integrate with no difficulty, or that a White Russian from Belarus can move to Scheyern, Bavaria and do the same. Whitey Mainer can move to Houston Texas, and Wild Bill to Lewiston Maine – and as if by magick, no adjustments to living standards will be made. Because, after all, they are all still White.
They might all still be White, but that does not imply sameness. Nor should it. In my circle I try to phrase it like a concentric circle. The nucleus should comprise your kith and your kin, with each line of the concentric maze being represented by descending layers of familiarity. For me, that concentric circle of interests places New England in the centre with the New England English being pivotal surrounded by New England Irish and New England French. These are the types I know best, and feel more or less most comfortable with. Outside of this circle are those of Germanic and Celtic extraction more generally, followed by Romantic (as in French and Italians) and then the broadly ill-defined “Med” category. Having no real experience of value with Slavs they inhabit my extreme periphery outside of which lies the multitudinous Utangard of things and people I want less than nothing to do with. Allowing myself leeway to understand things this way, rather than crush everything in the mould, or do as my paternal heritage has done for generations (try and fail to understand non-English folk in English terms). So it goes.
In this light, I don’t see why we cannot be mature enough to operate simultaneously in any number of spheres whilst compromising nothing of our essential teleological or logical outlooks. I can for example, by proxy and default, be an American Nationalist. But for the reasons explained above, I am better suited to approach this from the trajectory of the Englishness I have been bred in. That is the context I am forced to approach the matter with. I cannot expect that a Cajun Nationalist will exemplify American Nationalism in the same way as I do, nor he I. I cannot dictate terms of Nationalism to a Southern Nationalist, having mistakenly as I have made use of the term Yankee in the somewhat overdrawn European fashion to refer to ALL Americans. All Yankees might be American, but not all Americans are Yankees. The same rule appears to apply to the Southrons, with whom my experience is limited by time and geographic difficulties.
That dredges up a perfectly valid fear. Nationalists with Ethnic interests do not want to be thrown into the meat grinder. There are many of us with deeply rooted traditions and identities which we do not wish to sacrifice upon the altar of ethnogenesis. Ethnogenesis is a term which has been often bandied about in the circles I travel. It refers to the process by which differentiation along ethnic strata occur, but more importantly, solidify and become repeatable. Consider, sudden changes in a phenotype would be regarded as a freakshow until stabilised and repeated often enough that they outweigh the former model. An example would be outbreeding versus inbreeding. If you have an English host that absorbs enough foreign blood, it becomes something else. In one worldview, it becomes American. Many men I know prefer the moniker Amerikaner. Other than being an obvious German nod repackaged and applied to a collective new stock, I have not actually taken the time to ask any of the brothers who use the word why they feel more identifiable with this (to me at this time) specious term than the regions of their birth. I have heretofore assumed that the reason the Amerikaner term suits some more than a regional moniker is because even then, not everyone is tied to a region, but almost everyone I know is tied to the Continental United States.
Still it remains, for those without trenchant and firmly established folkways, there is the vacuous thing which nature abhors. A growling belly that needs filling, lest the complaints issue forth in some morose and Lovecraftian drone that slowly becomes a cultic roar. To live outside of identity and collective is a death sentence for the soul. Outlawry, by another word. In the Old World, Outlawry was spiritual death and dehumanisation. In the New World it has become a default, but for the blessed few whose families have maintained pedigrees for future use. So maybe the Amerikaner is an inevitability. What remains is; what does his history become? Can he have a unified history, as a unified block? How does he reckon that in? Does his history begin with the English colonisation and simply add as grafts each successive movement West, until a synthesis is reached? Does he accept the infusion of comparing and contrasting Old Stock to make the new breed? Does he retain the American Flag as it stands, or does he have another symbol?
An article was put to me by the Texas Blogger, Tactical Hermit, rather conveniently enough, at about the same time I was mulling over this whole thing of the Amerikaner in my head. Anyway, the article comes from Counter Currents. It was a concise and organised article which suggests that White American is an oxymoron, and that American Nationalism therefore is the default. It does not use the word Amerikaner, as among other things stressed in it, there is a derision toward overuse of confusing and esoteric jargon that would force our people to choose between racial loyalty and learning new words. (Excuse me while me and my esoterica exit stage right.) From the article I glean a desire toward a strict racial unity, which perceives ethnic compartmentalisation as a source of tension. While part of me undoubtedly agrees with that sentiment, I can also see that we have unbelievably strong ethnic components that I simply don’t see willing to sell themselves short to be an unhyphenated American. Greg Johnson seems to use the Southern Nationalists as his example of unwilling participants in the American Experiment. I can understand why. I have ticked off a few Southern Nationalists in passing during the early course of my work in the wider Bund, but we were also able to reconcile our differences. But in all reality, the Southern Nationalist is another world to this Yankee. I make no bones about it. New England is what I know. In New England, and the North generally, is a strong Irish presence. Half the Irish I know refuse to hyphenate at all, to them they aren’t Irish-Americans, just Irish. You have Franco-Americans, who again, with perhaps less frequency than the Irish, hold that they are still just French. And then there is myself, the English having formed the basis for America, are more inclined toward the label American. But historically, we have vacillated between this and the Eternal Retvrn to Tradition – especially when understanding we are being threatened somehow. So there you go, even then that agreement is rooted in my wish that the English Old Stock of America might be better preserved – not because I hate the others, but because I can feel the genetic walls closing in. I think I read our constituency is something like 20% US population or less, whereas there was a time in New England anyhow where it approached… all of it. With that all being said, my first thought is to think of Pennsylvania. In Pennsylvania, I have read, their early experience was one of a crossroads. There the Englishman and German alongside the Irishman, Swede and Frenchman all achieved a modicum of peace and were able to see things in some middle-ground. Maybe they are the real Americans. Or maybe my original premise of “you are the real American where you are,” holds a little water.
Johnson makes a point which I might have chaffed at a few years ago. And that is his insistence that the term European-American be dropped. Now I’m not going to tell anyone to drop it, if it suits them – not that anyone listens to that sort of thing anyway. But it makes sense to me. I’ve tried to veer somewhat away from using it, beyond the fact that our European extraction is inescapable and references have to be made. What I found interesting was how that article coincided with my reading of Gronbech who wrote almost a hundred years before. To Gronbech, the European is an animal apart from the old Teuton. Gronbech asserts that the modern Scandinavian is indeed European, but that he has been transformed by Graeco-Roman ideals. Civilised. I am not rightly sure if he thinks this a good thing, but there you have it. To call the old Teutons European is a mistake, he opines. They were no such thing. I make this point in light of some research which has turned up in the recent years suggesting a Roman-Danish trade connection, this suggests that Pagan Roman influence affected Scandinavian legend and culture prior to the advent of Christianity. This might suggest that the far-sighted Dane was the bridge to ‘civilisation’ and the catalyst by which Scandinavia would eventually join Europe. It’s not stunning research, the evidence seems to underlie a great many things. Take Runic writing. It boils down to whom you ask, but Runic writing is almost always assumed to be a permutation of an older form (as ALL writing is) or else an inversion of Latin. Certainly the Pentadic Numerals of Medieval Runic script and up appear to be a blend of strike numbers and Roman numerals along an axis. Point is, culture is always in flux, and at least metaphysically, we should maybe think about considering Ethnicity in a spiritual lens as Gronbech considered, rather than the terribly inefficient calculus we use now which is legalistically obsessed with contrite constructs such as fluctuating borders. Ah? Has the German border shrunk? You are now Polish, citizen. There shall be no Anschluss, for National Geographic has spoken.
Still, it should not be this insurmountable task to find the centre and hold it. Neither side of this non-conflict, this waste of mental resource, ought to be either intimidated or infuriated by the other. My stubborn recalcitrance to surrender what I am does not halt the progress of the Amerikaner. Or whatever. And so long as he presents me with no bill of goods telling me how I must change, I wish the Amerikaner good luck and godspeed. It is part of the chain of being. Or, as it goes, I will wish Greg Johnson’s American Nationalist good luck and godspeed. I suppose I can assume that they might become sides of a coin, in the dialectical struggle to achieve some synthesis. Ethnosynthesis, maybe? Certainly some things have to “give,” if we are to make any strides toward a future less hellish than the trajectory we have now. And a certain level of agreement is needed. In that there is no denial. Atomisation is the problem, generally, and among White Nationalists generally, and American Nationalists especially, there is even further subdivision. If you think of it atomically what with all this division, it’s amazing we haven’t zero summed like whomever it was that built the square mountain huts of the Southwest whom legends say the Anasazi or Si Te Cah hung out in before getting snuffed by Chief Puts Shekel in Slot Machine Wicked Hard and the no-pants bandits.
The Old Guard sees the rise of the New. There is considerable research to suggest that the transition of epochs of humanity oversaw each-other. The Cro-Magnon existed with the Neanderthal. The Neanderthal with Homo Sapiens. And so on. The unknowable, theoretically matriarchal Cultus of Old Europe somehow managed to exist alongside the introduction of the demonstrably patriarchal Sky God cult of the Indo-European, the Aryan, or whatever term of crippling convenience we might use to describe the overlay of our ancestry. The Old ways of Heathendom did not disappear to herald the new Christendom. Rather the one bled into the next. But that bleeding was not a wholesale abdication of value, it took generations for the new to supplant the old. I have no doubt the old always had it in mind to reclaim ascendancy, as should be their right – and mine. Even so, we know from the Sagas, that the Heathen and the Christian lived in relative peace in zones where they were most homogenous. Trade was not dampened, and it seems a mutual curiosity had been struck up. The Christian Viking still retained Pagan trappings. And the late Heathens are said to have held the Christian God to be an addition to a pantheon. It isn’t hard to see how synthesis followed. Of course, that example assumes locales where natural relationships were unimpeded. Like Iceland. In Norway the story is different where you had power grabs – but make no mistake power grabs incite brutality under any excuse needed. Just ask your nearest bugman with his buttcheeks perforated by needles full of coof juice, still wearing his gay little mask, alone, in his coffin car with the windows rolled up. I digress. In the same way, it strikes me rather loud and clear, that the Amerikaner (or whatever the new breed of American Nationalist shall become) is forced to borrow from Old Stock to complete his own ethnogenesis. That isn’t new either. All history is a saga of the fulfilment of bildungslöcke. There aren’t any languages spoken that have no loanwords. There are no legends having not been inspired by others. English is a language which serves as a living library, holding deeds and titles from every people that held sway over us, from under whom we have crawled out to reclaim our destiny. Whatever that is. The English language did not forsake that history upon creating New England, for even among the Founding Stock were what later came to be called Saxonists – those seeking to establish a cultural hegemony for their ethnic stock. There is no sin there, but one must always mind the devil at the door who would use your chauvinism for deleterious gain. Hell, in a roundabout way, the initially foggy reckoning of the proto-Saxonists eventually gave rise to characters like Madison Grant, whom our immediate ancestors would have been well met to heed rather than the whisperings of the (((media))) of the day.
Last long and short I guess is: big tent. There has to be room for compromise, a willingness to shake hands from over the aisle. Christians and Pagans, Petty and Ethnic and Racial Nationalists, Texas and Maine, North and South, Maine and Massachusetts, everywhere and the slim margin of New York worth holding onto. We have the gross IQ to be able to handle a certain threshold of ideological variance, so long as a trajectory is at play. In some ways, I think the presence of many strategies spread out is a better path forward than a monolithic entity. But what can’t be the common play is that each ideology is in competition against the other, in that sector of struggle to achieve White Identity. All infighting does, is feed the ones who don’t give a squirt about any of this. Which is why on paper the simple White American, or implied American, or American Nationalist is a communicable superficial solution. ZOG does not care about your 23&Heeb results. It understands ORION much more simply than you, and as far as it cares to see, your skin is your uniform.
But alas alack, my gym time is over, so is my thinking time. It’s off to the drywall, hi-ho, hi ho! And when the drywall dust settles it shall be family time I’m after.