There’s Something about a Man in Uniform
James J. O'Meara
Reflections on Sartorial Fascism
“I like killing guys when I’m wearing a tux. Makes me feel like James Bond.” — Brock Samson, The Venture Bros.
Joel: You can bet that anybody seriously interested in world domination is going to end up looking like a real snickerdoodle.
Dr. Forrester: (wearing a pirate costume/fruit hat) What’s that supposed to mean? I’ll deal with you later, back to the drill, Frank. You will bow down before me, Son of Jor-El! Bow down!”— MST3K on The Castle Of Fu Manchu
Americans, who tend to be either uneducated and therefore ignorant, or educated and therefore brainwashed, are wont to ask questions like “How could the most educated and civilized society in Europe fall for a madman like Hitler?” So great is their puzzlement over this apparent anomaly that, though a thoroughly respectable question itself — indeed, constitutive of respectable discourse — the answers tend to spill out past the bounds of respectable discourse, winding up in such otherwise verboten areas as UFOlogy, black magic, and perhaps plain old hypnotism.
Those of us reading Greg Johnson’s “Remembering Sir Oswald Mosley: November 16, 1896 to December 3, 1980“ and the articles recommended there, or the series of paperbacks and kindles being put out by Black House Publishing Ltd on and by the British Union of Fascists, have a similar, but very different question: how on Earth did Mosely fail?
Hitler and Mussolini, after all, actually came to power and it took the entire world to drive them from power; Franco died in his bed; Salazar was done in by his deck chair. But Mosely never came within a country mile of holding power in Britain.
How could this man, with so much charisma, and with all the right answers to the nation’s problems (ideas already successful in NS Germany, and still relevant today) fail so completely? How could Britain entrust its fate to that bloated, drunken buffoon, Churchill?
And even more generally, Why was there no significant “fascist” movement in the UK or (especially) the USA? After all, aren’t we constantly being told these are “fascist” states?
The answer, I think, is the uniforms.
Now, Germany, Italy, even France, these are all countries that respect the uniform. Think Emil Jannings as the washroom attendant in Murnau’s The Last laugh (1924):
Brits and Americans are prone to find such things laughable, or sinister, muttering about “Prussian martinets” or comic operas set in places called Ruritania.
Probably the most devastating, long running (1938-1974) and, I suggest, archetypal attack on Mosely came from P. G. Wodehouse, of all people, in the shape of Roderick Spode, 7th Earl of Sidcup, known as Spode or Lord Sidcup.
Spode is modelled after Sir Oswald Mosley, leader of the British Union of Fascists, who were nicknamed the blackshirts. Spode was at first an ‘amateur dictator’ who led a farcical group of fascists called the Saviours of Britain, better known as the Black Shorts. Spode adopted black shorts as a uniform because, according to Gussie Fink-Nottle in The Code of the Woosters, “by the time Spode formed his association, there were no shirts left” – alluding to various fascist or right-radical groups: Mussolini’s Blackshirts, Hitler’s brownshirts, the Irish Blueshirts and Greenshirts, the South African Greyshirts, Mexico’s Gold shirts, and the American Silver Shirts.
Bertie Wooster believes that wearing black shorts is an extreme social and sartorial faux pas (shorts being inappropriate for a grown man outside a sporting context) and uses it to make fun of Spode:
The trouble with you, Spode, is that just because you have succeeded in inducing a handful of half-wits to disfigure the London scene by going about in black shorts, you think you’re someone. You hear them shouting “Heil, Spode!” and you imagine it is the Voice of the People. That is where you make your bloomer. What the Voice of the People is saying is: “Look at that frightful ass Spode swanking about in footer bags! Did you ever in your puff see such a perfect perisher?” —Bertie Wooster in The Code of the Woosters (1938)
Before Spode inherited the title of Earl of Sidcup on the death of his uncle, he made a living as the “founder and proprietor of the emporium in Bond Street known as Eulalie Soeurs,” a famed designer of ladies’ lingerie.
Of course, the image is not necessarily off the mark; consider this perfectly serious version from contemporary NS Germany:
Here, someone has modeled his own Spode’s Blackshort Legion:
Wkipedia adds this interesting detail:
In the television series Jeeves and Wooster, the Black Shorts are portrayed as a tiny group of around a dozen men and teenage boys. They comprise the small, but enthusiastic, audience to whom Spode makes loud, dramatic speeches in which he announces bizarre statements of policy, such as giving each citizen at birth a British–made bicycle and umbrella [“At birth, every citizen, as of right, will be issued with a British bicycle and an honest British-made umbrella. Thus assured of a mobile workforce adequately protected against the elements, this great country can go forward once more to glory!”], widening the rails of the entire British railway network, so sheep may stand sideways on trains, the banning of the import of foreign root-vegetables and the compulsory, scientific measurement of all male knees. [“Not for the true-born Englishman the bony angular knee of the so-called intellectual, not for him the puffy knee of the criminal classes. The British knee is firm, the British knee is muscular, the British knee is on the march!”]
We should note, for future reference, the insinuations of homosexuality: Spode’s audience pointedly includes “teenage boys,” he is, we learn in “Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit,” an expert on jewelry, and above all, the lingerie business.
Out of embarrassment, Spode had long attempted to keep his ownership of the business a secret, though Jeeves discovered the fact in the Junior Ganymede Club’s official Book, where one of Spode’s former valets had inscribed it.
“Former” valet? Junior Ganymede Club, eh?
In The Code of the Woosters, this discovery allowed Bertie to threaten Spode with public embarrassment and prevent the threatened “jellying process.” As Bertie says, “You can’t be a successful Dictator and design women’s underclothing. One or the other. Not both.” Indeed, whenever Spode sees Bertie after the point where Bertie mentions the name “Eulalie,” Spode instantly becomes meek and acquiescing.
This instinctive, visceral mockery of Spode is especially interesting, since Wodehouse himself, though “apolitical” in that typically ga-ga way of the Brits, found himself, during the War, not only in occupied France, but was gently coerced by the Germans to give a series of radio “chats” aimed at the United States, detailing how jolly much fun the occupation was. Unlike Ezra Pound and William Joyce, Wodehouse was never prosecuted (being, apparently, ga-ga, after all), though now and again some busybody tried to smear him as a “Nazi.” The real irony is that Wodehouse himself was quite Jew-wise:
[A]s far as Wodehouse in his novels and short stories was concerned the Jews were an objectionable, shady, traitorous, money-obsessed lot who exercised an inordinate amount of influence in the city of London and had the entire British and American industry in their hands.
Of course, being Jew-wise does not necessarily make one a fascist (nor, given the example of Franco and Mussolini, vice versa) but I mention this to show that Wodehouse’s antipathy does not arise from some modern, “post-Holocaust” mentality (“Fascism leads to Auschwitz”).
Now, before delving further into this “shorts” business, let me step back again and make the general point that the Anglo-Americans seem to have a bug up their ass/arse when it comes to authority, government, and its tool, the armed forces. Both countries, for example, pat themselves on the back incessantly as abhorring “standing armies,” though this hasn’t prevented them from fighting each other twice, fighting the bloodiest civil war in history, creating and running the largest empire in history (navies are OK, I guess), and being in a constant state of war since 1941.
So, even if you libertarian or anarchist types like the “anti-military” hype, not only is it hypocritical, it’s also just a manifestation of a generalized attitude of social slackitude.
Now, my Gentle Reader, being likely of the Anglosphere himself, is also likely muttering to himself, “Who need a bunch of closet cases marching around like Nutzis anyway?” So let’s backup even further.
Traditional societies are above all integral societies; every aspect of the society is derived from, or refers back to, one or more metaphysical Principles (viz, Tradition), and since these principles are an integral whole, so are the various aspects of the society. This includes such “minor” or “irrelevant” aspects as clothing, or music.
Traditional societies have traditional clothing, and vice versa; moreover, we can say that traditional societies produce, as a kind of natural by-product, traditional clothing, and vice versa as well: traditional clothing produces a traditional society.
With this in mind, when the modern Anglo Saxon proudly states, and correspondingly wears, his vaunted “independence” and “originality” and “individualism,” as opposed to the supposed “repression” and “conformity” of the uniformed, we need to point out to him the difference between “unity” and “uniformity.”
Traditional society, as we have said, is integral, i.e., characterized by Unity, which, being aligned with Quality, is characterized by precisely differentiations: caste, rank, guild, corporate body, etc.
To these correspond various appropriate types of clothing, or a similar style of clothing, often with some indication of rank or order: the uniform.
Modern society is indeed characterized by an opposite principle, but it is the pseudo-freedom of mere atoms, indiscernible and interchangeable, with clothing to match. It is unfortunate for our purposes that Guénon calls this other principle Uniformity; in this context, we would better call it by its most salient characteristic: Conformity. In the 1820 the European (and hence relatively still traditional) De Toqueville had already discerned that the American’s much vaunted “freedom” actually produced, unlike the stratified, articulated societies of Tradition, a dull conformity of opinion (and hence, of dress, or fashion).
Furthermore, we can trace the decline of a society, or culture, or civilization, by the decline of its clothing, a process that, with Spenglerian inevitability, traces a path between the archetypes we have identified as the Homo and the Negro — a somewhat tendentious version of Guénon’s Quality/Quantity and Evola’s Solar/Telluric.
Thus, to reenter our discussion, the uniform, despite its “uniformity,” can be seen — and is seen, by the modern prole — as essentially of the pole of Tradition, integrity, unity (as defined just now), and thus always an implicit insult, and threat, to all the prole stands (or lies around) for.
Fascism, as Evola noted, was the attempt to shore up a disintegrating (i.e., a de-traditionalizing and modernizing) society under emergency conditions — hence, its rather unfortunate tendency to rigidity and, well, uniformity.
Fascism, with its ranks, orders, and corporations, is the modern analogue of traditional society, and thus can be, with sufficient reason, be symbolized by the uniform itself; conversely, the uniform is feared and loathed as the very symbol of fascism, which is itself loathed and feared — by the prole — for its attempt to restore tradition.
With that in mind, consider that Wikipedia adds that, “The flag of the Black Shorts as devised for the Jeeves and Wooster television series [was] modelled on the Flash and Circle of the British Union of Fascists.”
The “flash-in-the-pan,” as Mosley’s mockers called it. Which reminds us of one of the articles Greg Johnson links to in his Mosley memorial, Jef Costello’s “The Flash in the Pan”: Fascism & Fascist Insignia in the Spy Spoofs of the 1960s.” Here, Costello looks at Hollywood’s James Bond rip-offs of the ’60s, rather than genteel comic literature from the ’30s, and, corresponding to the decline of society in the ensuing decades since the defeat of Fascism, we can see that the Wooster/Spode dialectic is updated and replayed as the laid-back secret agent of Yankee-style “liberty” vs. the Worldwide Fascist Conspiracy.
But much more interesting is what these American spy spoofs reveal about the modern American soul. Let’s focus just on Matt Helm for the moment, as paradigmatic of the genre. It’s discipline, order, duty, and iron will (the villains) . . . against hedonism, debauchery, and selfish abandon (the hero). (I didn’t mention this earlier but Matt Helm always has to be talked into taking a break from chasing tail so that he can save the world.) The conflict between America and fascism in World War II was presented as the conflict between freedom and slavery. In Matt Helm, however, the truth is laid bare and the conflict revealed for what it really was. The freedom of Matt Helm is mere license. He’s out to make the world safe not for democracy and individual rights, but for boozing and boinking and sleeping till noon. That’s the American Dream, and he is living it. And so when those handsome, uniformed, lock-step, lightning-bolted troops in their spotless lairs are blown to kingdom come we can all cheer. Who did they think they were, anyway?
[Flint’s] Galaxy is a bit different from [Helm’s] B.I.G.O., however. They are headed by three white-coated, idealistic scientists who aim to pacify the world and create a conflict-free utopia. Ideologically, this actually puts them further to the left, but there are strongly authoritarian overtones to Galaxy (nifty uniforms, a “Führer Prinzip” of absolute loyalty to the three leaders, etc.). At the climax of the film, as Flint is poised to destroy the weather machine, one of the mad scientists pleads with him to desist: “Ours would be a perfect world!” he cries. “Not my kind of world,” Flint responds, as he proceeds to demolish their handiwork. Again, everything here is on personal terms. Our hero goes on his mission because his life is adversely affected; he foils the villains’ scheme because their vision is not his. No conception of duty is at work in Flint, and no high-minded ideals. He is just looking out for number one. (It is noteworthy that on its release, Our Man Flint received a positive review in Ayn Rand’s journal The Objectivist.) . . . Us vs. them foreign interllectuals with their books and their high-minded ideals. (The villains in the Helm films are always foreign and often – interestingly – aristocratic. What a delight it is to see the noble and the dignified toppled by the hometown boy!)
And that, of course, is the “delight” of seeing batty Bertie besting beastly Spode. As Costello sums it up:
The American versions of Bond jettison all that is noble about the character and turn him into a grinning lothario, a self-involved hedonist, a perpetual adolescent, a vulgar operator always on the make. And please keep squarely in mind that this was done so that American audiences would have a character they could more easily identify with and root for. The American soul is rotten to the core.
Though Bertie — who’s really more infantile than adolescent, less afraid of marriage than of women in general, especially his Aunt Julia — has been reconfigured as a surprisingly effective spy (just as the Anglo-American public had to be “toughened up” and frog-marched into the Second World War and the Cold War) his heart’s still in the right place: fighting for the right to sleep late against all those tightly uniformed meanies.
America was always more slovenly (“rotten to the core”), but standards of dress have sunk since Matt Helm to levels that would have been impossible to imagine possible back then; you need only look at random photo or movie scene from no further back than the ’50s to observe adults dresses like adults, with suit, tie, and hat, even at sporting events; today, “sportswear” — simultaneously childish (though sized for ever-increasing girths) and shoddy — is de rigueur for all events, indeed all public appearances, part of the negorfication of American, and ultimately world, society, the fruit of the much hullabalooed fascist defeat, which we’ve commented on for some time now.
Negro society, to the extent that the term “society” can even be used, is, as a result of its relative lack of intelligence, precisely characterized by an overwhelming conformity, of both dress and opinion — any signs of intelligence or originality being immediately stomped out as being “acting white” or “being gay,” which are equivalent terms here; while clothing must adhere to loose, baggy “style” of the prison, where the most authentic negro males spend most of their time.
As society becomes more uniform, more negroid, clothing becomes duller, uglier, and baggier.
So it is incorrect to simply say that “clothing has become more casual” since “casual” styles of the past would be considered ridiculously fussy and “uptight” today. As what little Quality has declined further into Quantity, “casual” has itself declined into “slob.”
How appropriate, then, that “shorts” should be the chosen vehicle of mockery. As Wikipedia says, the crux of Wodehouse’s derision is that, “wearing black shorts is an extreme social and sartorial faux pas (shorts being inappropriate for a grown man outside a sporting context).”
Ironically, today wearing “footer bags” anywhere at all would actually be a seen as faggy in itself — the recent World Cup games led to a predictable orgy of homosexual panic among the usual suspects on the Manly Right (e.g., Steve Sailer). While shorts have spread (like American asses) from sports to everyday wear, the kind of short has mutated.
Once again, Mystery Science Theater provides us with a useful index of what educated, white middle-class people in America’s upper Midwest — the theoretical “White People” that White Nationalists would supposedly convert and supply the population of the White Homeland — think; and of the Stuff these White People don’t Like, shorts is/are high on the list.
When the cast view old movies, which by definition are of the past (even “sci fi fantasies” take place in the “lost future”), whiteness is always noticed — it’s rare today — and more importantly, mocked. Exclusively white casts are puzzling; the occasional menial black character, though culturally accurate, is an embarrassment. When white bodies — “white, white, bodies” — are unclothed, the guys groan at the “fish belly white” display.
But it’s shorts, plain old jean shorts, and especially swim trunks, that elicit the greatest cries of horror: “Tiny, disturbing shorts”
“Mike, look, his batch, it’s horrible!”
“At this point the swim trunks are just a formality, right?”
“We’ll be right back to ‘Men with Little Pants.’”
Remember, we’re talking about films made by, for and starring ordinary American people, at a time when America was, by population, almost totally white (but, as we know, already negrofying in culture) — The Boggy Creek Monster (’70s), The Revenge of the Creature (’50s), The Undersea Kingdom (’30s) — not gay porn.
This mutation has been usefully diagnosed and analyzed by Mark Simpson in his epoch-making essay, “Speedophobia: The American Fear and Loathing of Bedgie Smuggling.”
Bathing and swimming are undoubtedly pagan passions. The ancients invented the seaside resort and spent a great deal of gold on, and time in, their blessed public baths, where the men bathed and swam naked. Not because they were indifferent to nakedness, but because they esteemed virility.
Medieval Christianity, with its ghastly suspicion of the body, rendered water — the sensual cleanser of limbs — suspect. As late as the 16th century, bathing was thought to be wicked, unhealthy, and, er, filthy.
[I]t was in Australia, a warm country where most of the population tenderly hug the coastline and pay little attention to busybodies — perhaps because Australia began as a convict colony — that the bodily freedom of the modern beach lifestyle (“surfers rather than serfs!”) was invented, anticipating by decades the sexual revolution of the 1960s.
Up until the early 1980s, Speedos were a common sight here, both on the beach and at the pool. Everything was lovely and snug and nicely outlined. But then something horrifying happened. Sometime in the late ’80s men’s swimsuits began to grow in length and bulk. Year by year they crept down the thigh toward the knee-and beyond — all the while billowing clownishly outward. Now U.S. men wear, of their own volition, not even the knee-length woolen knickers that the Australian men of Manly heroically protested in the early 20th century, but bloomers — a voluminous form of female attire last seen in the 1850s (and generally regarded as ridiculous back then). In the water, today’s Speedophobic males are half-man, half-jellyfish.
“Something happened”; “Of their own volition.” Although he doesn’t see the larger implications (not having read our book, The Homo and the Negro) Simpson is on the right track: In the ’70s basketball shorts were skimpy (almost like Oz football shorts) [that is, Wodehouse’s “footer bags”], but Michael Jordan popularized sexless long shorts in the NBA in the late 1980s. . . . Because Jordan was Jordan, others copied, and thus baggy shorts became fashionable. It seems that this evil trend spread to male swimwear.
“Because Jordan was Jordan”; meaning, we live in a thoroughly negrofied “society” in which ball-bouncers are worshipped as gods.
So we have moved from a culture in which bloomers were “generally regarded as ridiculous” to one in which they are compulsory; from one where shorts, worn off the field, are mocked as implicitly homosexual, to one where shorts of any sort are mocked as being homo as such.
It’s even gotten to the point where, clueless or impudent, Judaic curmudgeon Jim Kunstler — the Apocalyptic Grouch of the Capital District — finds it to be yet another problem . . . with the goyim:
I went to a sporting goods chain store at the mall — where else? — seeking a new bathing suit (pardon the quaint locution). The store was curiously named Dick’s. All they had were clown trunks. By this I mean a garment designed to hang somewhere around mid-calf, instantly transforming a normally-proportioned adult male into a stock slapstick character: the oafish man-child.
This being a commodious warehouse-style store, there was rack upon rack of different brands of bathing suits, all cut in the same clown style. I chanced by one of the sparsely-deployed employees and inquired if they had any swimming togs in a shorter cut.
“What you see is alls we got,” he said.
Even the Speedo brand had gone clown — except for the bikini brief, which I wore back during 30 years of lap-swimming, but which I deemed not quite okay for an elderly gentleman on the casual summer swim scene. So I left Dick’s without a new suit, but not before having a completely unsatisfying conversation with one of the managers.
“In the old days,” I explained, “bathing suits were designed to minimize the amount of cloth one dragged around in the water. These clown trunks you sell not only make a person look ridiculous, but they must be an awful drag in the water.”
“That’s what they send us,” he said. “It’s alls we got.”
(I can just hear MST3k’s “comic redneck voice” delivering that line.)
Now, all this might be dismissed as “fashions just change” or “everything’s relative” but as the latter phrase implies, that’s a rather Lefty response, don’t you think?
As MST3K demonstrates, this negrofication of our clothing cuts us off from our own white history — the “dead white men” are usually also wearing powdered wigs, silk stockings and . . . short pants; just a buncha fags, turn on the ball game. Just as PC vocabulary makes crimethink impossible, so PC fashion makes even a decade in the past unusable. Consider, then, these comments on an episode of the 60s TV show, The Outer Limits
Just found this on youtube, there is an episode from The Outer Limits posted called “Tourist Attraction.” Ralph Meeker is seen mostly in a t shirt and black speedo. Won’t see THAT on TV, except for Spanish telenovelas.
PE: I could have easily gone another 49 years without seeing Ralph Meeker in a speedo.
Though others disagree:
Ralph Meeker is a God! Us mere mortals should consider ourselves lucky that a man of his caliber would even be gracious enough to allow us to see him in all his speedo-wearing glory.
Even the military itself has been affected; the uniform itself seems to have disappeared, replaced by the ubiquitous desert fatigues. Obviously providing not camouflage (like the impractical clown shorts), one wonders what it is intended to symbolize — submission to our desert overlords in Tel Aviv?
Needless to say, the whole outfit, including the ridiculous yellow suede boots (the most impractical footwear imaginable), is greatly favored by the urban Negro. The only remaining touch of swank, as Watts would say, is the beret, which of course our manly, non-winning army boys consider to be “gay.” As always, the choice remains: homo or negro.
Back when America was winning wars, Gen. Patton designed a uniform for his boys: a green leather jumpsuit and gold helmet. The modern fatigues on the other hand, are indistinguishable from casual slob wear, such as the track suit. It is often worn, and not only by ex-servicemen, as street wear, while an old style uniform could only be worn as camp (or as one of Kesey’s “Merry Pranksters”).
Speaking of street wear, even Ignatius Reilly’s outlandish outfit is more of a uniform than this; he wears it constantly — one imagines it is seldom washed — and each element, from the duck hunting cap’s earflaps to the ability of the baggy pants to retain warmth and bodily gases — is carefully designed within the rules of geometry and theology. Distinctive, informed with intelligence, practical — true Aryan attire.
No wonder, after the collapse of the Crusade for Moorish Dignity (negroes and uniforms, hence political movements, don’t mix) Ignatius is “picked up” on the street, in pirate costume, by a French Quarter fag, whose coterie is subject to Ignatius next attempt to recruit a paramilitary rebel force for theology and geometry.
Jonathan Bowden has suggested that the right lives on in the uncounscious. Perhaps we might amend that to say that the right doesn’t arise from the irrational Id (as the Frankfurt School would have it) but, though thoroughly rational, has been exiled to the irrational Id. Like many such exiled forces, it bides its time in the liminal wastelands. Perhaps its strongest camps are to be found among homosexuals and the devotee of S/M, being the last members of the Rainbow Coalition still allowed — for now — to exercise their love of uniforms and dressing up.
But enough of these speculations. What are we to do? As Evola suggests, we must “ride the tiger.” We must seize the opportunities we are given, play the hand we are dealt.
We have sunk so low that even what was once an ordinary business suit is seen as “over-dressed.” Here, however, lies the key to getting up out of the abyss. If suits now look like uniforms, then suits can be our uniforms: we are the new Mad Men.
The Talented 10th of the Negroes, though too small in numbers to affect their own culture, has already figured this out: the Fruit of Islam with their terrifying black suits, white shirts, and red bow ties.
Or consider the Men in Black, originally the tormentors of UFOlogists, who have now spread throughout popular culture.
Black suit. White shirt. Black tie. Sinister Shades. Ominous and overbearing manner. Speaking in code. No indication of emotions or a personality. Ostensibly some kind of covert operative, but very conspicuous. They are simultaneously imposing and nondescript, which fits their mission perfectly.
We have plenty of actual New or Alt-Right role models — Gianfranco Fini, (president of Alleanza Nazionale), Gerolf Annemans, (Vlaams Belang), and good old Pym Fortuyn: all successful politicians; European, of course. But apart from all the other advantages we hear about that third parties or nationalist movements have over there, I can’t help but think that in today’s world, the sharp suit, the true analogue of the fascist uniform, can’t be ignored as a factor in electoral success.
Despite being the symbolic presence of The Oppression of The Man, The Men in Black have the mystique of being Badass and Cool, so heroes can be associated with them. In those cases they are merely protecting panicky Muggles by doing what’s ultimately best. [The essence of Fascism]
Watch out for Conspiracy Redemption if they go too far, though.
And “Conspiracy Redemption” occurs when, despite all the MSM propaganda the voters start saying, “Hey, wouldn’t we actually be better off it B.I.G.O. really did take over?” Or to paraphrase Jef Costello, “Give me the lightning bolt and pass me the black Hugo Boss suit, I want to join Thrush!”
1. “The educated are the most heavily indoctrinated” — Noam Chomsky.
2. The locus classicus of this meme is likely found in “Mario and the Magician,” by the traitorous propagandist Thomas Mann.
3. A more suitable subject for Clay Shaw’s no doubt ironic statement to Jim Garrison: “In fact, I admired President Kennedy. A man with true panache and a wife with impeccable taste.” JFK (Oliver Stone).
4. See, for example, Alexander Raven’s The Coming Corporate State (1936; reprinted London: Black House, 2012) and discussed by Alisdair Clarke in his “ARYAN FUTURISM” speech, delivered to the New Right meeting in central London on 28 May 2005, here). See also Spring Comes Again by Jorian Jenks (Uckfield, Sussex: Historical Review Press, 2011), an early contribution to organic agriculture, reviewed here.
5. See Mark Weber’s “An Unsettled Legacy,” reviewing David Irving’s Churchill’s War: Triumph in Adversity: “Churchill, writes Irving in the introduction, ‘won the war in spite of himself. . . . Britain, in short, surrendered her own empire to defeat a chimera conjured up by Winston Churchill, a putative danger from Nazi Germany — a threat which never existed except when Churchill needed to call upon it. He sacrificed the substance to defeat the myth.’”
6. Christopher Hitchens, I think in the New Left Review, not Vanity Fair, mocked the absurd notion that Britain had tried to appease Hitler because the post-WWI leadership was “pacifist” by pointing out that would have come as a surprise to Gandhi.
7. “All manly peoples today have a bad name; the Prussians are the prototype. “ (Alle männlichen Völker sind heut in Verruf; die Preußen sind der Prototyp). Ernst Jünger, Ernst Jünger – Carl Schmitt: Briefe 1930–1983 (1999).
8. “There were Fascists all around his Italian villas. Though he initially saw them as not much worse than a bad comic opera whose chorus was prone to fisticuffs.” Clive James, “Huxley Then and Now,” here.
9. Someone once described Himmler’s Annenerbe as “like someone gave the anthropology department at the New School uniforms and guns.”
10. Strangely, David Mamet has apparently written — that is, handwritten and illustrated — a children’s book [!] called The Trials of Roderick Spode (“The Human Ant”). It appears to be quite dreadful, but I haven’t found any explanation for his use of the name.
11. The Fascist, for the many reasons we’ve listed in the past, always types on the Homo end of the Homo/Negro spectrum; thus, the thoroughly Judaified populace is easily swayed by the epithet, which the Left always reached for first. By today, any “expertise” is suspect. “Niggers proud to be ignorant” — Chris Rock.
12. It has been suggested that Wodehouse actually performed a great service for the Allies, by convincing the Germans that his Drones Club was an accurate depiction of the British as dopey, ineffectual phebes.
13. Hence, I suspect, the long running anti-Spode campaign; as long as Mosley was alive, Wodehouse (Spode = Wode?) was in peril.
14. See “P. G. Wodehouse on the Jews” here.
15. In the good old days of free speech, antipathy to the Chosen was common; take, as an example we’ll return to, the ultimate Empire figure, Kipling; as Andrew Hamilton says, : “Rudyard Kipling is out of favor, in large part because his work was so politically and racially incorrect. In a letter written from Jerusalem to his only surviving child, Elsie, Kipling reportedly observed that ‘many races are vile but the Jew in bulk on his native heath is the Vilest of them all.’”
16. America’s ultimate religion, pipe-smoking suburban salesman/dad J. R. “Bob” Dobbs’ Church of the Sub-Genius, has officially deified slack. “Every man a king, and every child and dog a slave.”
17. If he fancies himself a Cherstertonian, he’s likely to be pounding his fist on the pub table, spewing cheese and cracker crumbs from his beer-soaked moustache and shouting “I’ll stand for no damned nonsense!”
18. See my essays on Wagner, here on Counter-Currents and reprinted (“worth the price of the book alone!” raves an Amazon reviewer) in The Eldritch Evola . . . & Others (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2014), where the doctrinal formulations of Guénon, Daniélou, and Coomaraswamy are cited.
19. Well, tends to; it’s not a magic panacea. Thus, the regrettable fanaticism of Taliban, and the more media-friendly Amish. By contrast, consider the absurdity, obvious even to the secular eye, of Ashkenazi Jews dressed up like 17th-century Polish merchants in thick black wool and beaver fur hats, impudently pretending to be “the true inhabitants” of Palestine. As for vice versa, Alan Watts praised the Japanese kimono, and wore them himself; when a modernized Japanese objected that one couldn’t run for a bus in one, Watts replied suavely that “No gentleman should ever run for a bus.” In general, see the contemporary views on dress cited in “Mad Männerbund” here and in The Homo and the Negro (San Francisco: Counter-Currents, 2012).
20. See R. Guénon, The Reign of Quantity and the Signs of the Times, 4th ed., (Ghent, N.Y.: Sophia Perennis, 2001), chapter 7, “Uniformity versus Unity.”
21. See, of course, The Homo and the Negro.
22. Fascism, and especially National Socialism, thus had a regrettable “prole” aspect to themselves which prevented Evola from entirely endorsing the movements. As Chris Rock said about O.J., Evola didn’t say they were right, but he . . . understood. See his Fascism Viewed from the Right, trans. E. Christian Kopff (London: Arktos, 2013) reviewed here and Notes on the Third Reich, trans. E. Christian Kopff (London: Arktos, 2013), reviewed here.
23. Even without its various insignias further distinguishing internal rank, the uniform symbolized hierarchy as such, in its clear delineation from civilian wear. Armies are known only by the most basic character of their uniforms — redcoats, blues vs. grays; also men in blue (police), the red and black of Stendhal’s novel, etc. Thus Jef Costello is right, as we’ll see, to assimilate the lab coat wearing elite of Flynt to his fascist groups. The white lab coat, presumably without any distinguishing marks of rank, still denotes separation from the profane masses.
24. As always with Judaic propaganda, ideas like “liberty” and “fascism” are hyped up to 11, exactly when both are quite non-existent.
25. Wodehouse’s Spode, when challenged, spouts things like “It’s been scientifically proven!” As Costello notes, the scientist angle plays more Left than Right — “bad” planning is always fascist, unlike the Left’s “good” planning, but the lab coats as uniforms definitely tip the balance toward fascism. For the difficulty Leftists have imagining a “fascism” that doesn’t wind up being built from elements of their own Leftism, see my “The Fraud of Miss Jean Brodie” here.
26. In Huxley’s Point Counter Point (1928), The Brotherhood of British Freemen (B. B. F.) is known on the streets as the “Bloody Buggering Fools.”
27. I describe the change in the image of “the real boy” in “Welcome to the Club: The Rise & Fall of the Männerbund in Pre-War American Pop Culture,” here.
28. As Guénon notes, “pure” Quantity can never actually exist; rather it is a logical endpoint for the decline and quantification of pure Quality.
29. Today, at the Times Square station, I heard a ringing bell, and inferring the start of the Salvation Army kettle-Santas, I turned to behold a Negro who, apart from bell, kettle, and some kind of apron emblazoned with the Salvation Army emblem, was indistinguishable from any other homeless skell. Only some white suburban faggot like Clark Griswold would be so un-cool as to bother to “dress up” (a term used by drag queens) as Santa, even to make money. The attack on Santa has been one of the main prongs of the “progressive” assault on White culture, with the drunken, child molesting white bum becoming the standard Santa impersonator.
30. For example, the relentless mockery of the Seattle World’s Fair promo, Century 21 Calling: “Isn’t it great there’s only white people?” “Who directed this, Leni Riefenstahl?” “The Führer will like this.”
31. Feb. 11, 2007; online here.
32. “The one-time Paradisiacal fields are completely exploited and plundered like a wheat-field in which a thievish horde of apes has taken up residence. Our bodies are infected with a mange which despite every kind of soap remains udumu-ized, pagutu-ized and baziat-ized [that is, made ape-like]. Never has human life been as miserable as it is today — despite all its technical advancements. Devilish human beasts oppress us from above, slaughtering millions of people in unconscionably murderous wars conducted for the enrichment of their personal money-bags. Savage human beasts undermine the pillars of culture from below. . . . What do you want with Hell in the Beyond?! Isn’t the one we are living in now, and in which we are now burning, terrible enough?” — Dr. Jorg Lanz von Liebenfels, Theozoology, or the Science of the Sodomite Apelings and the Divine Electron (1905). Jorg is one of those “disreputable” sources of “Hitler’s madness” we mentioned at the top; over the years, he has come to seem less and less “occult” and more and more prophetic.
33. The purpose of the clown shorts is to hide the laughable “white, white” body, hide all distinctions, and ape the styles of the manly Negro, not to prove useful n actually swimming, which Negroes abjure anyway. We might compare this to Oscar Wilde’s explanation of his colorful outfit to Colorado miners: They learned that even his oft-ridiculed stage dress of black velvet jacket, lace cravat, silk knee breeches, and patent leather pumps could be understood in terms of pragmatics. As Wilde explained, “When a man is going to walk or row, or perform feats which require a display of strength and muscle, the trousers are done away with and knee breeches are worn.” See my “Wild Boys versus ‘Hard Men’” here and reprinted in The Homo and the Negro.
34. “We Are All Ninja Turtles Now,” Clusterfuck Nation, July 7. 2014, here.
35. “During the revolution [Washington] surrounded himself with a group of young officers in a close-knit circle that was marked by affectionate bonds of unusual intensity; a group Washington himself referred to as his ‘family’. . . trading stories with them while he cracked nuts by the fire.” James Neill, The Origin and Role of Same Sex Relations in Human Societies (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2009), loc. 8563
36. As usual, Europe, especially the less “developed” parts, exist in a kind of time capsule. Thus, “ethnic” TV networks present us with men in tight pants and brief swimsuits, perfectly straight, while respectable female newscasters look like hookers. Alt-Rightists evince an affection for Eastern Europe as supposedly “preserved” by Communism, nurse man-crushes for Putin, and extol their “more feminine” women.
37. Typically, the ordinary clothing of the past — boots, garters, foundation garments — becomes the fetishized clothing of “bad” girls and boys; hence, these comments form the “Speedo Fantasy Board.”
38. Another adds “I agree about Meeker—the only reason I ever go back to watch this episode. I kept waiting for him to start slapping people around as was his habit when he played that certain P.I.” He refers, of course, to Meeker’s role in Kiss Me, Deadly, which we analyzed in “Mike Hammer, Occult Dick: Kiss Me Deadly as Lovecraftian Tale,” here and reprinted in The Eldritch Evola . . . & Others (San Francisco: Counter-Current, 2014).
39. One of many flaws in Agent for H.A.R.M. — a third rate Our Man Flint is filled with half-assed misunderstandings of what makes a spy movie cool, instead creating a “hero” that seems more like “your dad’s golf buddy,” as MST3k puts it — is that the titular agent spends the last third wearing a bright yellow cardigan.
40. As detailed in my book, The Homo and the Negro, whose epigraph quotes the MC5: “You must choose, brothers and sisters, you must choose.”
41. As always, distinctions must be made. The “Chelsea Clone” look, like the concurrent UK Skinhead, was a uniform only in the negative sense we have been outlining here, an “anti-uniform” of drabness, if you will. This reflected the absorption of the homosexual into the Rainbow Coalition of Wreckers of Western Culture under the “gay” brand. Along these lines, we can understand Jack Donovan’s contempt for “donning the clothing of masculine roles without making the required efforts.” S/M still seems a bit outré, but we can imagine that the Left will come up with a nice, safe pseudo-oppositional identity for them; “nice S/M” being no more absurd than, say, “marriage equality.”
42. I discuss the counter-revolutionary potential of the “Mad Männerbund” here and in The Homo and the Negro.
43. The “offstage narrator” in Tom Wolfe’s “Radical Chic,” (used to portray “the general mindset of the people through whose eyes you begin to see”) articulates the moment when upper-class Whites moved their allegiance away from the Nation of Islam types and to the Black Panthers: “These are no civil-rights Negroes wearing gray suits three sizes too big— no more interminable Urban League banquets in hotel ballrooms where they try to alternate the blacks and whites around the tables as if they were stringing Arapaho beads—these are real men!” See the text with Wolfe’s 2014 annotations here.
44. See footnote 36, on European “backwardness.”
45. “Boss joined the Nazi Party in 1931, two years before Hitler came to power. By the third quarter of 1932, the all-black SS uniform (to replace the SA brown shirts) was designed by SS-Oberführer Prof. Karl Diebitsch and Walter Heck. Hugo Boss company produced these black uniforms along with the brown SA shirts and the black-and-brown uniforms of the Hitler Youth.” Wikipedia, Hugo Boss (Fashion designer), here.
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Excellent. Very interesting. This could be expanded into a book on style and clothing for Alt-Rightists and others. God knows they need the help!
The bit about Speedos reminds me of the short, tight bathing briefs worn in some of the early James Bond films by the ultra-masculine Sean Connery . And check out his sky-blue terrycloth bathing robe!
Also, I’d be interested to hear the writer’s take on recent sartorial trends such as ‘preppy’ and ‘trad,’ which could be argued constitute a kind of uniform for White men.
Also, we need an analysis of hipsters (who are mostly White men) and their appropriation of White masculine style and grooming habits. What does it mean?
Hilarious. I have not read enough Wodehouse to know about the Black Shorts. The only contemporary Mosley incarnation I knew of in fiction was in Point Counter Point. (Huxley).
1. Couldn’t one argue that modern military fatigues are ugly because camouflage has become necessary in modern warfare? Before the 20th century, uniforms were nice because armies marched in orderly formations and fought in orderly formations. Now with vehicles, snipers, aircraft, etc. soldiers need to make use of terrain and blend in as well as possible. I don’t think it’s necessarily a conspiracy against military fashion.
2. Isn’t good style about how well clothing fits, not about it being as tight or as loose as possible? Should men go back to wearing tights? I don’t think tight clothing should be a goal for fashion-conscious alt-righters. I think the goal should be a good fit in general. Also, a good personality is necessary to go along with that good fit. Take the average hipster in his skinny jeans: is he at all masculine? I don’t think so.
IIRC, until sometime in the 1970s or 1980s fatigues were only worn on-duty and dress uniforms were worn off-base. And at least 90% of the troops in the US armed forces are support troops who would only engage in combat if the base where they are working is being overrun.
“we can trace the decline of a society, or culture, or civilization, by the decline of its clothing”.
There you have it.
Our look is the mirror of our soul. We can’t get anyone to admire us if we don’t care about what and how we wear. Even if someone has a bad taste for clothing, if he’s tidy and fit, he will give a good impression. Our outfit naturally speaks for ourselves. And we need to be a role model for others, specially young men. It’s not a minor issue.
As regards common clothing, I think that the years of 1920 to about 1970 stand out as striving for a dignified, worthy self-representation in public. People were generally well-dressed, then, even if not from the rich circles. I remember well when my parents dressed up somewhat to go to town, even for shopping. No one would have dared to walk around in pajamas ( a rare, but nonetheless occasional dress in town, nowadays). The total impression was that of a community that paid tribute to the image of mutual respect by appearing civilized, clean, neat.
It’s not quite like that anymore, to say the least.
I like P.G.Wodehouse and Jeeves and Wooster is extremely funny, yet when I saw the episode mentioned in the article, I was very irritated by the depiction of the English fascists. One cannot take everything lightly, and Wodehouse does not seem to have understood the seriousness of the situation he lived in.
***“I like killing guys when I’m wearing a tux. Makes me feel like James Bond.” — Brock Samson, The Venture Bros.***
Nice to see you have discovered the Venture Brothers. I think I might have mentioned them to you during your pre-Counter Currents blogging days a few years ago. Or are you just raiding TV Tropes for good quotes?
***“we can trace the decline of a society, or culture, or civilization, by the decline of its clothing”***
***”I like P.G.Wodehouse and Jeeves and Wooster is extremely funny, yet when I saw the episode mentioned in the article, I was very irritated by the depiction of the English fascists. One cannot take everything lightly, and Wodehouse does not seem to have understood the seriousness of the situation he lived in.”***
If he had he would have been a very different kind of writer and person. In one of the PBS intros into a British TV adaptation of Wodehouse which I remember seeing way back in the 1970s or 80s, the host, probably Alistair Cooke, described Wodehouse as being so trusting that he would address and stamp a letter in his office and throw it out the window to land on the street below; Wodehouse trusted that some passerby would see the letter, pick it up, and place it in the nearest mailbox. And they did. Britain and the West in general were a much more orderly, peaceful, and high trust society than they are today. Naturally people trusted their government and media when it told them they had to go to war to stop those beastly Nazis.
There is also the question of frivolity that is inbuilt to some extent into the British character. They do love to boast about their sense of irony and how they love to “take the piss”. Bring up the topic of humor and Germans and they will inevitably tell you that “German humor is no laughing matter!” and so on. This works as an useful tool to avoid unpleasant realities. Why so serious?
Good to hear from you again!
>Nice to see you have discovered the Venture Brothers. I think I might have mentioned them to you during your pre-Counter Currents blogging days a few years ago. Or are you just raiding TV Tropes for good quotes?
Err, yes and no, and yes. The quote did pop up on TVTropes, and wondered if you would call me on it, as I still haven’t checked them out, more than one episode I saw in the background at a party.
Yes, again, I had a paragraph on Carlyle that I cut out. Good to see that at least some readers picked up on the Tommy overtones.
I also didn’t talk about Wodehouse’s broadcasts on German radio, and the postwar hullabalo; I think that’s why W. was mocking Mosley up to 1974, since it was his way of diverting attention from his own wartime activity. And yes, the defense is always, well, he was a bit dotty, doncha know.
Hope to see you commenting again!
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