An obscene duh-bate

It is obscene and heartbreaking that Breivik’s act should “reignite” any debate on whether European countries are too permissive about immigration of peoples not considered part of their original ethnic family (something which is poorly defined by autodidacts and politicians).

In a decent world, Breivik’s mass murder would close the question: prospective immigrants can be forced to learn your constitution, how to sing your national song, and perhaps your language (but would not, would they, since a low-level employee who cannot speak your language is more easily exploited is she not).

But in the name of our common humanity, you may not, you may not, you may not impose on citizenship an ethnicity test, for this enables people like Breivik.

Humanity is one species. It makes no scientific sense to call anyone a “Norwegian” based on ancestry in a land that was under Swedish and Danish control in recent history.

Decent people would reject a Volkische definition of membership in a national community based on Hitler alone!

There is no debate.

When Enoch Powell of Britain gave his “rivers of blood” speech in the 1960s he mobilized the ugly, mean and petty resentments of lower middle class shop-keepers and landladies, which had been previously inert, of which most people were vaguely ashamed, and which can be unlearnt unless made respectable by the political pander.

The case of the politician George Wallace in the United States, who went from running on a racist platform in 1968 to calling for racial truth and reconciliation before his death, shows that people can unlearn their racism. Many racists regard their “gut feelings” less a guide to truth and more an addiction, and they sometimes will say they wish they weren’t so irritated by the music or chatter of the disfavored race.

Pierre Bourdieu, in his narrative sociological study on poverty, The Weight of the World, discovered through deep questioning that ethnic French people would get “beyond” their Le-Pen inspired ranting about “dirty noisy” neighbors, to envy of their extended families and musical parties, to their basic problem: their children in Paris never visited them.

Unprincipled politicians, including oh so moderate politicians who call for an essentially ugly debate, what I prefer to call a duh-bate, short circuit a capacity for personal growth and access to feelings. They told Breivik he was on the right track.

A politician needed to say to Breivik, in the words of a prewar British advertisement, Let Me Be Your Father, and speak to him of Norway’s heroic resistance to Volkische definitions of nationality, and how in Denmark the Danes so bravely wore the Star of David to protect Jewish members of their national family.

And if not three then two cheers for my nation, the United States of America, and its Fourteenth Amendment:

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

The last clause is about people, including immigrants. It stops Volkische creeps and their creep enablers in their tracks. And member states of the United Nations need to be reminded of their committments under Article 7 of the UN Declaration on Human Rights:

All are equal before the law and are entitled without any discrimination to equal protection of the law. All are entitled to equal protection against any discrimination in violation of this Declaration and against any incitement to such discrimination.

Emphasis mine.

As I say above, I would not interfere with the right of the nation to impose reasonable tests for citizenship or residence, although as I add above basic literacy in the national language is often overlooked when the nation needs people to do its dirty jobs.

However, to slowly introduce ethnicity into the equation is clear discrimination. Politicians know this and are playing with a stick of shitfire when they pander, perhaps especially when they “clean up their act” in the manner of Mussolini’s female descendants or Le Pen’s daughter.

As a political issue, it’s in fact closed by modern Constitutions including that of Norway. The modern nation may not, as a matter of human rights, impose an ethnicity test.

But as political porn, it’s an exciting issue which mobilizes the lads, so it is “milked” by politicians in Europe and the USA. It’s a peepshow. You might get to see her tits, maybe not. We might reissue you that white skin privilege which used to mean you could be the dumb bastard you happen to be and get a government job or university admission.

But as it happens, you don’t. You’ve given the peepshow guy your money and the politician your vote, but don’t let the door bat you in the ass.

It’s a sophisticated form of political manipulation. White skin privilege was the hope of losers before World War II: failed in London, try the Indian Civil Service, or Hong Kong, or like Orwell the Burmese police. Fail in Paris, next stop Hanoi. Or, stay at home and get a better job than women or coloreds.

Politicians are selling its shadow with duh-bate.

It’s one thing to deliberately self-marginalize like Young Hitler and his SA pals. The real mischief starts when the public relations boys and makeup girls are called in.

The street thug is less frightening than the pub bore, and the pub bore is less frightening than the blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy with the rock star looks, who, in the upscale trattoria, starts spewing pseudo-sophisticated racialist nonsense after being turned down by the cute chick.

Since Enoch Powell, the respectable classes, whenever it seems time for their members to stop making the megabucks and run for office, have enabled pub bores, soccer yobs, and very disturbing creeps like the Breiviks of this world to run their mouths and clean their guns.

People whose knowledge of Shakespeare is nil or limited to the O-level study of one play become willy nilly defenders of their “culture”…and lecture the outlander on points of pronunciation or grammar that the outlander later discover are regionalisms, limited to the peoples of one or two nooks or fjords.

The oh so precious rights of the European inhabitants of some wild coast become Authenticity. The love of animals becomes an excuse to hate most of humanity. The modal persona converges with that of a moony youth in prewar Vienna who liked reading about Atlantis, did not smoke, was a vegetarian and liked Wagner.

People for whom King Harald’s saga or the Lay of Ygor is little more than a video game kill to defend whatever those sagas might represent. They never get to the part in their own history, in Scandinavia, in which the Vikings were nothing more than the plague of Europe: they never notice just who accompanies the Knight on his journey, and so Todt and Teufel make their reappearance in a Europe that purged them in Jahr Null, 1945.

Jesus Christ died for nothing, I suppose, and, Edward Joseph Nilges, Captain, United States Army, 442nd Regimental Combat Team, died in vain.


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