William Gayley Simpson’s Which Way Western Man?

5,811 words

William Gayley Simpson
Which Way Western Man?
Second, expanded edition
Hillsboro, W.V.: National Vanguard Books, 2003

To answer to the question posed in the title of his book, William Gayley Simpson has condensed into 758 closely-printed pages the experience, the research, and the philosophical thought of a lifetime.[1] He is now 87, and he began to write the present book thirty-five years ago. It is a veritable encyclopaedia of everything that is directly pertinent to our people’s position in the world today and our problematic future.

The book is unique. What makes it so cogent is that it is both an intellectual autobiography and a synoptic treatise. The reader, even if he begins with conditioned reflexes that make him hostile to his own people, can follow, step by step, the process by which reason and intellectual honesty forced Mr. Simpson to his conclusions. His work may also be taken symbolically as an epitome or recapitulation of the course of European civilization, which likewise began with the Christian faith of the Dark Ages and has now brought us to the point where we can no longer refuse to face the grim realities of the world in which we must either live or perish.

Born in 1892 in an educated but sternly Christian family, Mr. Simpson was graduated, magna cum laude, from a highly reputed theological seminary, became a minister, and, unlike most clergymen, he had a religious faith so ardent that instead of regarding some of the most striking parts of Christian doctrine as convenient subjects for professional oratory, he, like St. Francis, tried to live in logical conformity with them. Our people, like some others, has a strain of sentiment that can be excited by the idea of tapas, the mirific virtue and spiritual power produced by austerity, self-sacrifice, and self-mortification. The notion of tapas was a fundamental part of Indo-European religions from India to Scandinavia, and it was not remarkable that our ancestors, accustomed to venerate Odin, a god who, by an act of supreme self-sacrifice, hanged himself on the great world-tree so that he might arise from the dead, should have accepted the cult of a god who had himself crucified and likewise rose from the dead; nor that, so long as they believed in their new religion, they held to the faith that spiritual excellence could be attained by inflicting degradation and pain on oneself. St. Francis was merely one of the many who had the fortitude to live up to that faith.

Mr. Simpson, too, tried to carry the religion to its practical consequences, but, unlike St. Francis, he did not lapse into a kind of amiable insanity. He learned from his dolorous experience that reality is not to be denied and that magic is either clever trickery or an hallucination. He realized that there was no way in which he “could be an honest man and remain a minister.”

Innumerable clerics, even in the darkest ages of Faith, found their creed unbelievable, but either took refuge in the Mediaeval aphorism, “populus vult decipi, ergo decipiatur,” or, if not without honesty, accepted Cardinal Dubois’s celebrated dictum that God is a bogey that must be brandished in order to scare the masses into some semblance of civilized behavior. But since the forced unity of Christendom was effectively broken in the Sixteenth Century, not a few clergymen have publicly denounced the religion to which they gave assent in their youth. It will be worth while to illustrate the profound difference between their reactions and Mr. Simpson’s. And it will suffice to list the five who are now most generally remembered in this country.

Early in the Eighteenth Century the Reverend Mr. Thomas Woolston set out to “establish the truth of the Scriptures.” He soon saw that it was no longer possible to claim that the various tales in the Christian Bible were historical accounts of events that had actually happened, so he tried to defend them as allegories, as edifying and somewhat more dignified than Aesop’s fables. That device, however, was a rod that broke in his hands. He became a deist and published his Discourses, of which sixty thousand copies are said to have been sold in the brief time before the corporations in the salvation-business took alarm and he was, by a pious perversion of the law, thrown into the prison in which he died in 1731. He is remembered now for his influence on his contemporaries, but the Discourses are not really worth reading and, so far as I know, have never been reprinted.

At the same time, a far more acute and intellectually courageous mind was at work in Étrépigny, a small town half-way between Rouen and Paris. The Reverend Father Jean Meslier had an understandable reluctance to be burned at the stake, so he continued to discharge his professional duties and administer consolation to the credulous, but he composed a treatise of some 366 manuscript pages, of which he made and placed in responsible hands three copies, and which he further protected by calling it his last will and testament, to be opened only after his death, which occurred in 1733. After apologizing to his parishioners for having deluded them, he undertook a systematic analysis of religion in the light of the known laws of nature, common sense, and our instinctive morality. His work was surreptitiously but widely circulated in manuscript copies until 1761 or 1762, when it was printed in Holland. His Testament was drastically abridged and reduced to an inexpensive pamphlet by Voltaire, who attenuated much of Meslier’s argument, since Voltaire professed deism on the grounds that only belief in a supernatural being who would reward virtue and punish vice could induce even a modicum of honesty in men. (See particularly Voltaire’s letter to the Marquis de Villevieille, 30 August 1768.) Meslier’s devastating critique of belief in praeternatural beings is entitled Le bon sens in the French editions, but the English translation, perhaps to avoid confusion with Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, is entitled Superstition in All Ages, which is a little misleading, since the work is not a history of religions but a philosophical examination of belief in the supernatural. It was reprinted by The Truth Seeker in San Diego.

Christianity was really saved by the French Revolution, for that bloody orgy of murder, pillage, and revolutionary insanity convinced even Gibbon of “the danger of exposing an old superstition to the contempt of the blind and fanatic multitude.” The appalling outbreak of savagery, instigated by cunning conspiracies and only precariously brought under control after years of bloodshed, was a cogent proof of the irredeemably primitive nature of the masses, the multitude, which Franklin and Hamilton, echoing Horace and Erasmus, had justly called the many-headed beast. A majority of thoughtful men everywhere were convinced at last of the truth of Cardinal Dubois’s dictum, and, to the delight of the professional clergy, a majority of learned men undertook to profess, or at least not to attack, a religion which seemed necessary to maintain domestic peace and, indeed, to preserve the very basis of civilization.

Undeterred by these considerations, the first great apostate of the Nineteenth Century, the Reverend Mr. Robert Taylor, disregarded the pleas of his ecclesiastical superiors and friends, who urged him not to ruin a promising career in the Church in which his talents destined him for high office, by publishing facts that could only disturb the placid credulity or proletarian fanaticism of the lower classes. His Diegesis (1829), an historical investigation of Christianity and its relation to earlier religions, is a work of great learning and incisive scholarship, the more impressive today since many of the Christian gospels were still unknown when he wrote and he had at his disposal only a small fraction of the copious information about other early religions that subsequent discovery and research has now made available. Although his book inevitably contains errors of detail, it deserves careful reading today. It was reprinted in 1977 by Health Research, Box 70, Mokelumne Hill, California. [Now at www.healthresearchbooks.com. — Kevin Alfred Strom.]

In the United States, Colonel Ingersoll was not ordained, although he was the son of a clergyman and his early education gave him the familiarity with the Christian stories that he displayed in The Mistakes of Moses and his many orations. His campaign against Christianity inspired some holy men, notably the Reverend Mr. William Mahan, to forge some more gospels, but it inspired numerous others to forsake their business. Of the latter, the best-known today is the Reverend Mr. Samuel P. Putnam, an indefatigable public speaker who was generally regarded as Ingersoll’s most active disciple. His numerous speeches and articles, so far as I know, have not been collected, and are of interest today only as illustrations of “free thought” in a nation which, after the tragic defeat of the South in its War for Independence, hypocritically pretended it had not repudiated the principles on which it was founded, and was slowly, condignly, and perhaps ineluctably sinking into the slough of ochlocracy, euphemistically called “democracy.”

The most recent example of apostasy is the Reverend Mr. G. Vincent Runyon, who died less than a year ago and may have been the last clergyman to face the choice Mr. Simpson had earlier faced and to opt for honesty. Until he was forty, he says, “No man walked and talked with God more than I.” Then a sabbatical year gave him time for study and reflection, with the result described in his booklet, Why I Left the Ministry and Became an Atheist (1959; available from the Truth Seeker). [Now available online at www.infidels.org. — K. A. S.]

The five whom I have listed above are certainly the best-known apostates. Their very names will suffice to make any one of our contemporary dervishes howl — provided, of course, that he knows enough about his business to recognize the names. They are universally regarded as having totally repudiated Christianity and doubtless believed they had done so. They were mistaken.

I have taken the space to list them not only to point a very significant contrast to Mr. Simpson’s book, but to emphasize the crucial fact that a man may earnestly and vehemently reject Christianity and yet remain, in very important areas of his thinking, Christian in spite of that.

It is, first of all, noteworthy that four of the five did not even think through to a logical conclusion their rejection of Christianity. They were content to denounce it as the cause of woes unnumbered to modern man, but they did not see what that implied. Only Taylor perceived that Christianity was based on a cult invented by a “misanthropic horde of exclusively superstitious barbarians,” by “barbarians who resented the consciousness of their inferiority in the scale of rational being by an invincible hatred of the whole human species.” The Jews, with the duplicity that is their outstanding characteristic, “plagiarized the religious legends of the nations among whom their characteristic idleness and inferiority of understanding caused them to be vagabonds; and pretended that the furtive patchwork was a system of theology intended by heaven for their exclusive benefit.” Under the cover of that brazen pretense, the Jews insinuated themselves into every nation whose prosperity they wished to exploit. Their migratory bands of “commercial, speculating thieves” were ever “ready to play into and keep up any religious farce that might serve to invest them with an imaginary sanctity of character and increase their influence over the minds of the majority, whose good nature and ignorance in all ages and countries is but ever too ready to subscribe the claims thus made upon it.” Taylor was not really a precursor of Nietzsche, but he did identify the greatest of the innumerable hoaxes by which the Self-Chosen People have throughout history imposed on the gullible goyim and thus raised themselves from a miserable tribe of despicable barbarians, practicing primitive taboos and grotesque sexual mutilations, to the most formidable power in the world today.

Taylor obviously differs from the other apostates and most of their contemporary deists and atheists, who inclined to esteem the Jews as enemies of Christianity, having been taken in by another great hoax, the endless whining that they were “persecuted” during the Middle Ages when the Church gave them a virtual monopoly of usury, sorcery, and international trade — when they spun financial webs about kings and noblemen, and most rulers were attended by skilled Jewish physicians, always spies and potentially executioners — when the Jews exercised such political, intellectual, and economic power that, as Bernard S. Bachrach has shown in his Early Medieval Jewish Policy in Western Europe (University of Minnesota, 1977), out of the ninety-eight rulers whose policies he examines in detail, eighty-eight (including Charlemagne) had to pursue pro-Jewish policies, while the ten who attempted to oppose the aliens in their domains went down to failure in one way or another — when the Jews could usually count on royal or ecclesiastical protection whenever their depredations excited local resentment so strong that it became violent — when even the famous and belated expulsion of Jews from England and Spain overlooked those who thought it worth while to have themselves sprinkled with holy water — and when the Church itself was a great ladder by which marranos climbed to power and wealth, laughing among themselves at the stupidity of the goyim who imagined that a Jew could be transmuted by a few drops of magic fluid.

I therefore exempt Taylor from the generalizations about apostates I shall make below. His was a vigorous and incisive mind, and I am unwilling to guess how much of Christian doctrine he unwittingly retained. I do not know his opinions on many subjects; I have not seen the files of the obscure periodicals, Carlile’s The Lion and his own short-lived Philalethean, that contain his last published writings. After having twice served long prison sentences at the instigation of vulgar holy men who resorted to their favorite means of proving the “divine truth” of their lucrative trade, Taylor was convinced of the futility of trying to enlighten a multitude resolved to remain invincibly ignorant: he retired to practice as a physician in France, leaving unpublished works, perhaps of great value, among the manuscripts that were destroyed or dispersed at his death in 1844.

The other apostates I have mentioned, and many that are now forgotten, together with almost all of the anti-Christians of recent centuries, exemplify the operation of what may be called the law of cultural residues. In all civilized societies, when a long-established and generally accepted belief is found to be incredible, good minds abandon it, but they commonly retain derivative beliefs that were originally deduced from the creed they have rejected and logically must depend on it. Thus it happened that modern enemies of Christianity rejected the mythology, but uncritically retained faith in the social and ethical superstitions derived from it — a faith which they oddly call rational but hold with a religious fervor.

They laugh at the silly story about Adam and his spare rib, but they continue to believe in a “human race” descended from a single pair of ancestors and hence in a “brotherhood of man.” They speak of “all mankind,” giving to the term an unctuous and mystic meaning with which they do not invest corresponding terms, such as “all marsupials” or “all ungulates.” They prate about the “rights of man,” although a moment’s thought should suffice to show that, in the absence of a decree from a supernatural monarch, there can be no rights other than those which the citizens of a stable and homogeneous society have, by covenant or established custom, bestowed on themselves; and that while the citizens may show kindness to aliens, slaves, and dogs, such beings obviously can have no rights.

They do not believe that one-third of a god became incarnate in the most squalid region on earth to associate with illiterate peasants, harangue the rabble of a barbarian race, and magically exalt the ignorant and uncouth to “make folly of the wisdom of this world,” so that “the last shall be first” — that they do not believe, but they cling to the morbid hatred of superiority that makes Christians dote on whatever is lowly, inferior, irrational, debased, deformed, and degenerate.

They gabble about the “sanctity of human life” — especially the vilest forms of it — without reflecting that it takes a god creator to make something sacred. And they frantically agitate for a universal “equality” that can be attained only by reducing all human beings to the level of the lowest, evidently unaware that they are merely echoing the Christians’ oft-expressed yearning to become sheep (the most stupid of all mammals) herded by a good shepherd, which is implicit in all the tales of the New Testament, although most bluntly expressed in another gospel, which reports Jesus as promising that after he has tortured and butchered the more civilized populations of the earth, there will be a Resurrection, and his ovine pets will pop out of their graves, all of the same age, all of the same sex, all of the same stature, and all having indistinguishable features, so that they will be as identical as the bees in a swarm.[2]

Although the “Liberal” and Marxist cults have doctrinal differences as great as those that separate Lutherans from Baptists, they are basically the same superstition, and whether or not we should call them religions depends on whether we restrict the word to belief in supernatural persons or extend it to include all forms of blind faith based on emotional excitement instead of observed facts and reason. When those “atheistic” cults scream out their hatred of “Fascists” and “Nazis,” they obviously must believe that those wicked persons are possessed of the Devil and should therefore be converted or exterminated to promote holiness and love. And when they see “racists,” who impiously substitute fact and reason for unthinking faith in approved fairy stories, their lust to extirpate evil is as great as that of the Christian mob that dragged the fair and too intelligent Hypatia from her carriage and lovingly used oyster shells to scrape the flesh from her bones while she was still alive.

With very few exceptions, the anti-Christians, no doubt unwittingly, retained in their minds a large part of Christian doctrine, and they even revived the most poisonous elements of the primitive Bolshevism of Antiquity, which had been attenuated or held in abeyance by the established churches in the great days of Christendom. And today, professed atheists do not think it odd that, on all social questions, they are in substantial agreement with the howling dervishes and evangelical shamans who, subsidized with lavish publicity by the Organized Jewry who control the boob-tubes and other means of communication, greedily participate in the current drive to reduce Americans to total imbecility with every kind of irrational hoax, from astrology to “pyramid power.”

It is to the great honor of Mr. Simpson that, as he says somewhere in his book, he is not a man “to do things by halves.” When he ascertained that the Biblical fictions were unbelievable, he logically perceived that the residue of derivative superstitions was equally mythical. He had the intellectual vigor and integrity to begin a search for truth, i.e., ascertained facts about the real world — a search that is an intellectual drama as narrated in his candid pages. His studies of all subjects relating to the social realities of our time were thorough and almost exhaustive, and his citations from writers of recognized scientific and scholarly competence form a bibliography of almost encyclopaedic scope.

In the journalists’ idiom, Mr. Simpson has “covered the waterfront.” He has neglected no relevant subject from economics to biology. He examines the economic system that is based on financial fraud, which has now reached the point that, as was shown recently by the Farmers’ Union’s statistical analysis, the average American pays much less for all the food that he and his family eat than he pays for “credit,” i.e., as interest on fictitious loans of the counterfeit currency manufactured by the Federal Reserve. He knows that all men and women are created unequal by the laws of genetics that govern all forms of organic life. He even considers the possibility that a religion may be an indispensable symbol and bond of a people’s unity, and he speculates about the likelihood that our people, if it does not become extinct, may in a distant future develop some believable and wholesome faith of which the form cannot now be foreseen.

Mr. Simpson discusses demonstrable facts with relentless objectivity. We live in a universe in which life itself is but a trivial and transitory phenomenon, and the awesome contrast between its brutal realities and the glowing figments of our imaginations is always painful, even to men who have the fortitude to contemplate it. Some of Mr. Simpson’s perceptions may distress even the rare individuals who try to emancipate themselves from the endemic illusions of the masses.

He resolutely examines the psychological and social consequences of our great industrial technology, which made us masters of the whole earth until egalitarian superstitions paralyzed our vital instincts as well as our rationality, so that now our own technology is being used by our enemies “with deadly effectiveness to produce a herd of fellaheen, bemused, stupefied, tamed cattle, whom it will be easy for them to milk in the world-state corral they now have nearly ready to receive them.” That is a fact that no candid observer of the present will doubt, but Mr. Simpson goes on to consider the effects of industrial organization, which is necessarily inhuman, on the biological entity that is man. Needless to say, there can be no question of abandoning the technological power on which alone depends our only chance to survive in the world we lost, but it is well that we understand the price that we must pay for power. I commend Mr. Simpson’s discussion to all thoughtful men, and I remark only that Lord Acton, a Liberal whom even the “Liberal” cultists of our own day profess to admire, perceived, more than a century ago, that a real democracy (as distinct from the ochlocracy that is euphemistically called “democracy” today) must be based on some form of slavery.

One chapter in this book ruthlessly demolishes a prejudice that has been inculcated into all of us by the dominant mythology. Sixty-five years ago, when the great American student of historical causality, Correa Moylan Walsh (who would be ranked with Spengler, had he been born in Europe), identified the causes of the catastrophic decline that was then already imminent, he noted the perverse “effeminization of men, for which the masculinization of women will be no compensation,” and he devoted the third volume of his Climax of Civilisation to the systematic illusion called Feminism. Limiting himself to essentials, Mr. Simpson has more concisely shown that, as should be obvious to anyone who looks about him, “men and women are fundamentally different creatures,” both physiologically and, what is even more important, psychologically. It is, of course, irrelevant that a dream of sexual equality (as in the gospel I mentioned above) may, like a dream of immortality, fascinate tender minds that need hallucinations to shield them from reality; and a calm consideration of the facts is particularly timely now, when screeching Jewesses are whipping the disinherited and bewildered females of our people into epidemic hysteria, thus applying the immemorial technique of their tribe, which, as some of its leading agitators have frankly stated, consists in creating dissension, antagonisms, and social disruption by finding groups of individuals who can be isolated on the basis of some supposed common interest and persuaded by artful sophistries that they are the victims of “social injustice” and “oppression.”

As I have said, Mr. Simpson has explored and elucidated every aspect of our plight. A comprehensive review of his book would run to an inordinate length and, for the most part, sound like an encomium. A reviewer, however, is expected to be a carping critic, and it is his duty particularly to call attention to passages that may be misleading in one way or another.

In an autobiographical section, Mr. Simpson describes what he calls his “mysticism.” I wish he had used another word, for he is dealing with operations of the subliminal, or subconscious, mind that are still unexplained. Psychology today, when it is a science as distinct from lucrative quackery, is in about the position of physical chemistry in the first century B.C., when several Greek philosophers identified earth, water, air, and fire as the four constituent elements of all matter. The psychological problem, which seems to have been perceived only by the peculiar mentality of our race, is, of course, much older than the daimon of Socrates and there is a sense of it even in Homer. It is a matter of common experience that a mind, no matter how lucid, cannot explain some of its own operations. Some mathematicians, for example, say that if they think about a difficult problem as they fall asleep, the solution will appear in their consciousness when they awake. Despite Poe’s famous essay, artists, including poets and even some first-rate novelists, aver that their best ideas come from “inspiration,” emerging into their consciousness suddenly and not as a result of a sequence of logical deductions and inferences. When we meditate on a given problem, an idea that eludes us in strictly logical thinking obtrudes itself from some subconscious source and is found, on examination, to be logically sound. A similar process often governs personal choice: when reasoning fails to indicate a clear balance in favor of one or another alternative, we may choose in terms of a “hunch” or some similar prompting. It does not seem that such phenomena can be adequately explained as instinctive or as produced by the hereditary quality called phyletic memory, and until we understand the interaction between the three parts of the triune brain (the reptilian nucleus, the limbic substratum, and the neocortex, as identified by Dr. Paul MacLean) and between the prefrontal lobe of the neocortex and its other parts, we cannot explain the operations of the subconscious, but that does not in the least imply that the “spiritual” is not strictly physical. The subconscious, needless to say, is by no means infallible, and Mr. Simpson, who is anything but a “mystic,” properly insists that all its impulses be examined and approved by strictly rational thought before they are accepted.

I have heard Mr. Simpson accused of trying to unite Jesus and Nietzsche. It is true that he gives his interpretation of the character of the Christians’ Jesus, whom he evidently regards as an historical person and the author of doctrines that are clearly inapplicable to human life. His interpretation is based on the few Christian gospels that were hurriedly and ineptly thrown together by the particular Christian sect that shrewdly made a deal with the despots of the once-Roman Empire and thus acquired the legal and political power to persecute and exterminate the numerous Christian sects that were competing with it. Needless to say, the inconsistent and often self-contradictory picture presented by those gospels differs enormously from the pictures drawn in the many other gospels. It does contain, in the Apocalypse and some passages in the screed written under the name of Matthew, some of the gospels of the Ebionites, who were probably the first Christian sect that was not restricted to Jews, although the lowly goyim were promised no status higher than that of “whining dogs” and promised only the great privilege of lying on the floor and being given the table-scraps when the Jews banqueted after their Jesus came back from Heaven and inflicted on the nasty Europeans all the ingenious torments that are so exultantly described in the ghastly horror-story that closes the New Testament. The Ebionites’ Jesus must have differed greatly from the one described in the rest of the “orthodox” collection, as must the Jesus of the Naassenes (another Jewish sect), who descended from heaven in the form of a huge snake and crawled into Mary’s womb.

When the Christians started composing gospels around the middle of the Second Century, the various sects naturally adopted or devised tales to justify their own inclinations, and there is no reason whatsoever to believe that any one story is more likely to preserve elements of historical value than another. The sect that made the political deal with the despots was, for reasons that we may conjecture but cannot prove, one that carried with it the Jews’ Old Testament, which became so acute an embarrassment to Erasmus and many other sincere but thoughtful Christians at the time of the Revival of Learning. There were various sects, some of them large and numerous before they were exterminated, which quite logically identified the Yahweh of the Old Testament with Satan, and their Jesus obviously differed greatly from the “orthodox” version, as did the Jesus of the sects that knew him to have been a phantom or a corporeal form taken on by a god who wished to appear to mortals, as, for example, Venus took on the bodily shape of a Carthaginian maiden when she appeared to her son, Aeneas.

It is likely that all of the gospels were elaborated imaginatively from folk tales or oral traditions about one or another of the numerous Jewish agitators who, during the first century B.C. and the following century, tried to stir up the Jews in Egypt, Palestine, and probably Italy, most or all of whom bore the extremely common colloquial name Jesus (comparable to our ‘Bill’ for ‘William’), and all of whom naturally claimed to be christs (i.e., messiahs). Some of these agitators are known from other sources and are historical, though unimportant, figures, and one or another of these can be recognized as the probable prototype of one or another tale in the conflations, but it would be a waste of time to try to extract from confused narratives a consistent portrayal of any one individual. What Mr. Simpson has done — and this is valuable — is extract from the “orthodox” collection the elements that did strongly impress the minds of our people when our barbarous and ignorant ancestors accepted a religion that was presented to them as a documented and verified historical fact to which men had to accommodate themselves, even if it was unpalatable and repugnant to their moral sense.

It is the crucial fact of our time that the religion which was elaborated in the Middle Ages as an instrument of social stability has now been totally turned against us. Even so late as a decade ago it was still possible to entertain a lingering hope that the decision of conservatives since the French Revolution to base their position on the time-hallowed tradition had not been entirely a blunder, but the remaining votaries of the old faith were too few, too aged, and too bemused. Now the religion is being progressively restored to the primitive cult of the Ebionites and used as a mighty weapon against us. Its supposed “revival” by evangelicals is merely another proof of the deadly efficiency of our publicly-financed boob-hatcheries. Minds that have been so sabotaged that they can believe in the equality of races have been so debilitated that they can believe in anything, from “Bermuda Triangles” to Moon-faced drug-peddlers from Korea, from “one world” to poltergeists, from “psychics” who “foresee” the future or recognize reincarnated princesses from old Atlantis to the Yahweh described in Marc Dem’s Lost Tribes from Outer Space, who came hither in a flying saucer to install his Master Race among the lower anthropoids and who may come back any minute to clobber us nasty Europeans, if we annoy him by sending rockets too far beyond the moon.

It is a grim fact that our people today is as hag-ridden with superstitions as were our ancestors in the Middle Ages. We have voluntarily shut our eyes to reality as though life were a child’s game to be played by capering blindfolded, until now we stand, as A. K. Chesterton says in his posthumous book, Facing the Abyss. Our recent history reminds one of the old Mexican myth of Toveyo, the cunning sorcerer who exterminated the Toltecs by beating faster and faster on a magic drum that made the hypnotized people dance ever more furiously until they, exhausted, made a final leap into the abyss of eternal night.

If we are not to follow the Toltecs, we must at last use the cognitive and objectively rational powers that are peculiar to our mentality. Whether our decaying people still has the will or even the capacity to make that effort is the only question and it must be answered soon.

Mr. Simpson is too honest to palliate our peril with illusory hopes or tranquillizing verbiage. His book, I warn you, is only for those who dare look upon the stark realities of a terrible universe. The sun is but a lonely spark amid a billion suns that are themselves lost in endless night, and in all of infinity our planet may be the only lump of rock infected with sentient life, of which men are merely a peculiar and ephemeral variety. Among the mammalian bipeds, our race is a small and hated minority. For us there is no help from the infinite void that encompasses us, and no help beneath the clouds, except in ourselves. Like all living organisms, we must fight to survive in the unceasing struggle for life. But, as Mr. Simpson reminds us, survival is not enough: a race can survive only by aggression.

If our people has been so debilitated by menticidal illusions that it no longer has the will to power, then, by the irrevocable law of all life, it has become unfit to survive. If that is so, the power that we won by our courage and technological power and have now lost by our fatuity is lost forever, and despite what you and I may wish or hope, we are, in the grim balance of nature, what the Jews believe us to be, an irredeemably inferior species,[3] fit only for brutish servitude or, at best, extinction.

Notes:

1. The 2003 edition consists of 1070 pages of slightly larger and easier to read type.

2. The Greek text of the gospel in question was published by Konstantin von Tischendorf in his Apocalypses apocryphae (1866; reprinted by Olms, 1966); see p. 78. I know of no translation.

3. The Jews’ contempt for us is explicit or implicit in all their writings, except, of course, propaganda for the stupid goyim. As Dr. Nahum Goldman, founder of the World Jewish Congress, says in Das jüdische Paradox (Cologne, 1978), p. 25, the Jewish mind, sublimely confident of its own superiority, has always regarded us “als eine minderwertige Rasse.”