Finnish translation here
One interesting subplot within the Boston Marathon tragedy is the story of Tamerlan Tsarnaev’s wife, Katherine Russell. By all accounts and appearances, she was an utterly typical White American girl up until being pulled into his orbit. The establishment narrative has been from the start, and will remain, that she was a brainwashed and abused victim of her violent extremist husband. In time, Katherine Russell is likely to join Patti Hearst, Lee Boyd Malvo, and the entire nation of France in claiming Stockholm Syndrome, embracing the victim’s narrative and thereby absolving herself of any real guilt and accountability.
Tamerlan was certainly tyrannical, reportedly hurling furniture and verbal abuse at her with abandon. Radical Islam, or any Islam for that matter, is an alien threat to be purged from our communities and they should never be allowed to consider themselves at home in either Europe or the Americas. The terrorist act itself was unconscionable and indefensible, managing to target one of the last remaining wholesome and noble American public festivals.
But there’s more going on here than the natural attraction two humans commonly have when circumstances bring them together. She chose Islamic extremism, married it, had its baby, and defiantly wears its hijab even after it slaughtered and maimed her own people. Why? We’ll have a better idea, perhaps, after the smoke’s cleared and more information is revealed. There are surely multiple factors that play into life choices of this magnitude. But my hunch is that Katherine Russell gave in to the natural attraction we all, especially women, have for a strong and confident man on a mission.
Much is made in New Right circles about how pity, tolerance for weakness, and ressentiment are integrally feminine. Women, especially contemporary White American women, do indeed seem to relish clapping along with degeneracy, dysfunction, and failure. Their noble and natural impulse to nurture is perverted by contemporary culture into pitying and nurturing exotic AIDS orphans, hostile immigrants, and house cats. It also finds dysfunctional expression in their superficial claims to favor humble, meek, and sensitive men whose world revolves around pleasing them.
Setting aside their inept dichotomization rather than synthesis of the sexes, setting aside their promiscuous and manipulative objectives, the Internet’s “game” subculture speaks the truth in its admonition to America’s hordes of craven, feminized, and insecure young fail males to act like they’re confident, act like they’re not fixated on getting laid, and act like they’re afraid of neither rejection nor death.
That’s all well and good, but this matrix of behaviors all come easily and naturally to a man who’s truly sublimated his will to a transcendent goal and weaponized his mind and body in service of something other than playing video games or making more money for her to spend.
In essence, chicks dig a traditional patriarch, especially a warrior. It’s not just chicks, either. Everybody craves a compelling narrative, and everybody who’s not wrapped up in a powerful and enchanting life story yearns for that. Whether they’re enjoying romance novels, celebrity magazines, or reality television, they’re escaping into lives with gravity, meaning, depth, fame, and power. They’re trying to escape the grinding and depressing banality of this nihilistic, fragmented, and creatively exhausted modern American life.
An interesting phenomenon happened when Scott Terry spoke up in favor of patriarchy and White Southern heritage at the 2013 Conservative Political Action Conference. The first reflexive response of the audience was to scold and shame him. Had he shrunk back, apologized, or betrayed anxiety, guilt, or shame, they would have instinctively doubled down.
That’s often where things go downhill for budding White Advocates. The human herd’s predatory instincts are like a wolf’s, and retreating is an invitation to chase. In “game” speak, this political phenomenon is analogous to a “shit test.” They tried to shame him, but they could see in his eyes and his words that he didn’t answer to them; he was a man on a mission.
In such situations, your adversaries are trying to figure out where your metric of esteem and respect lies. Many men who are pro-White or say “racist” things are actually in their heart of hearts still beholden to this system. They’re still playing the system’s game, and can’t help but come off as hand-wringing guilt-addled losers. When you refuse to radically reorient yourself to an alternative worldview, you can only lose, because preserving our heritage and faith is against the official rules of the game. Tsarnaev’s uncle’s scolding him as a “loser” feels like a damning indictment to them. Being a “racist”, a “sexist”, or an “extremist” is certainly a loser move in this moral matrix. But Tsarnaev can’t lose, because he wasn’t playing their game. The gods of his far-off land had repossessed his blood.
The answer to their imminent threat of jihad is our own crusade, a repossession of our own blood of our own gods from our own lands. We won’t target innocent civilians in their homeland (putting us a step above our own federal government). It’s not really even about anything overtly military. It’s, as Evola calls it in Metaphysics of War, a waging of the inner war, a victory of our primal instincts and highest traditions over the sins, vices, and excesses of the Modern world. If we can initiate that process, we’ll no longer be complaining about more virile and traditional males from outside our nation running off with our women. Our enemies will instead be complaining about them being “brainwashed” with our own supposed “extremism.”
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