Savaged States of America: A Futuristic Fantasy
In Qua Urbe, 1998
“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”—Lewis Carroll, the White Queen, Through the Looking Glass
“Modern life’s absurdities render the satirist’s role redundant.”—Anon.
“Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other”—Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac
“The urge to save humanity is almost always a false front for the urge to rule.”—H. L. Mencken
Kevin Beary’s dystopian novel about mid twenty-first century America is one of the better latter-day efforts directed at white nationalists, and it is surprising to me that it is not more popular with its target audience. Beary is a natural-born fiction writer; he has the uncanny ability to paint with words as all of the memorable novelists have been able to do.
The most famous of the books in this category are Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four and Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. These were released, respectively, in 1949 and 1932. Neither of the authors of these volumes, however, foresaw the drastic demographic changes that were to take place half a century on, and they therefore lack a certain relevance to the crisis we now face in the opening years of the twenty-first century. Certainly, if either Orwell or Huxley had been reading the relevant literature available to them at the time, they apparently discounted the warnings. Lothrop Stoddard and Madison Grant supplied enough ammunition on the subject of the white race’s looming crisis for either Orwell or Huxley to incorporate into their books.
In 1998, when Beary published Savaged States of America, the crisis warned of by Stoddard and others was in full blast and there was no way for the American Right to ignore it.
What is most interesting about this book is that the author is willing to take risks that others writing for the WN audience will not. Writing about the facts of race and demographics are controversial to the general public, but not to the WN community within which it is a safe topic.
Damning the prevailing matriarchy in the United States, though, is often risky business even at white nationalist gatherings, where the subject is avoided almost as much as the topic of racial IQ differences is shunned within the chattering classes. At a gathering of white nationalists, normally intrepid investigators into the world of ideas forbidden to the masses will blanch if anyone should venture to address feminism from the lectern. Numbers of those present in the audience will begin to cough, shuffle their feet, and look down at their notes.
Beary’s novel starts out in the middle of the twenty-first century. The United States has been re-named the Corridor, and has forfeited much of its former territory to Malcolmland, a black nation to the south of the former United States comprising many of the former Southern States, and to Aztlan, a country consisting of what was once the Southwestern USA. Men have become feminized and forced to take a government mandated testosterone inhibitor. Men must be very careful, as most anything they do can cause them to be brought up on sexual harassment charges:
As he [Serenity] walked along the avenue, he saw many Functionaries that he recognized, but he didn’t dare say anything to, salute, or even look at them directly. Any such behavior could be interpreted as sexual harassment by the woman in question, and if a complaint were filed against him—well, that could mean weeks or months in a Rehabilitation Center. (p. 165)
The Corridorian government has shipped rifles to the Malcomland Army, and sent large sums of money to Aztlan to tear down Mexico City and rebuild the Aztec capital as it was before Cortez. In the north, a number of the States bordering on the Canadian international border have been absorbed by Canada, which is itself part of a union with northern Europe. This new nation is called the E.C. (European Community) and represents in the novel the Western values that most of us on the American Right hold dear. The E.C. is white, prosperous, and technically advanced. The citizens of the E.C. look down on the politically correct Corridorians: [Referring to the all-female Corridorian Army, the Harmony Enhancement Sisterhood]: “a joke—a day-care center in uniform” (p. 239). The E.C. opinion of the Corridor as a nation: “The Corridor is a kindergarten, nursing home, hospice for the mentally incompetent” (p. 237).
As the story begins, the Corridorian Coordinator Harrietona is concerned about a large build-up of armed forces on the Malcolmland-Corridor frontier. There are even instances where Malcolmlander troops have crossed the border into Corridorian territory. Harrietona decides against putting the Harmony Enhancement Sisterhood on full alert, as this would be bad form and would signal a failure to trust the Malcolmlander authorities. At all the forward bases of the Sisterhood Army, many of the female soldiers are either pregnant or nursing, and the Army bases are hosts to large day-care centers. Men are forbidden to serve in the armed forces and are given mandatory testosterone inhibitors to prevent masculine, aggressive behavior. An unfortunate side-effect of this is that Corridorean couples have a difficult time conceiving a child. Often it is necessary to resort to artificial insemination.
Against the backdrop of the political crisis caused by the troop buildup along the southern border of the Corridor, we are introduced to two of the three main characters: Serenity (a man who is a lowly sub-Functionary in the Corridorian government) and his fiancée Matt (a woman).
The fashion of Corridorian women is to apply Brownaid to their skin, the better to resemble the darker races they hold in such high esteem.
Serenity finished undressing and lay on the bed. He didn’t dare look down at his shrunken manhood. He tried to think about other women. But who was there to think about? All the other government Functionaries looked about the same as Matt did: two-toned, their frizzy hair all the same fashionable style, their attitude far from erection-encouraging. (p. 24)
The E.C. women dressed in feminine clothing. Their counterparts in the Corridor wore drab and unflattering uniforms reminiscent of the worst of Soviet era fashion. Here Serenity shows E.C. representative Catherine around the sights in the Corridorian capital Turnertown (after Nat Turner), formerly Washington DC:
Some of the Functionaries they passed as they crossed the Ellipse glanced at Catherine with a snootiness not a little tinged with envy. As well they might, thought Serenity. Catherine’s legs, beautifully displayed by her skirt, which came to just above her knees, and her breasts, pushing out from under her unbuttoned jacket, were in gorgeous contrast to the baggy-overall-covered figures of the Corridorian Functionaries. (p. 196)
As the story develops, the Corridorean government continues to ignore the obvious and takes no steps to shore up the defenses along the border with Malcolmland. At the same time, Corridorean Coordinator Harrietona makes plans to travel to the Capitol of Aztlan, the city of Tenochtitlan (formerly Mexico City) on a diplomatic mission with her Facilitator of International Communication Franca. The E.C. is concerned about Malcolmland’s threat to the Corridor, as conquest of the Corridor would place Malcolmlander troops on the E.C.’s southern border. In anticipation of this problem, an E.C. diplomat named Catherine is dispatched to Turnertown to assess the situation. As a diplomatic courtesy, Catherine is treated to a tour of the monuments in Turnertown, hosted by Serenity:
Serenity and Catherine at the Washington Monument
“The Washington Monument,” Catherine said, interrupting Serenity’s train of thought and pointing to a photo of the old monument in the guide book. “Can we see that first?”
“The Washington Monument?” Serenity laughed softly. “That was torn down years ago.” “Torn down? Why?”
“Because Washington was a racist, an owner of enslaved persons.”
“Why didn’t they just change the name?”
“It was changed at first,” Serenity said. “It was known as the Nat Turner Monument for a while. It was considered appropriate that a monument that had been originally dedicated to an owner of enslaved persons should be rededicated to a man who valiantly gave his life in the struggle against the iniquitous institution of African enslavement,” Serenity said, parroting the history text that was required reading in Multicultural Center.
“So why was it destroyed then?” Catherine asked.
“Well, what it was was a phallic symbol, you know, a symbol of male dominance. You’re a woman, you should know about these things.”
“But sometimes a cigar is only a cigar,” Catherine said, smiling at him slyly.
“Oh, we don’t smoke cigars in the Corridor,” Serenity said, missing the reference entirely. “We don’t smoke any kind of tobacco.”
Serenity was shocked.
“Because it’s unhealthy,” he said simply.
Catherine burst out laughing, then recovered herself and apologized.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But there are so many unhealthy things in life. You could say that life itself is unhealthy, since the inevitable result of life is death.” . . . “Is there anything at the site of the monument now?” she asked. “Of course there is,” Serenity said. . . . .”It’s not too far from here,” Serenity answered. “Do you want to see it?”
“Why not?” Catherine answered, smiling again. . . .
The pointed obelisk, which had once shot so proudly into the sky, was gone, as Serenity had said. In its place was a great depression in the earth, inlaid, so Catherine’s guide told her, with the white stones that had once formed the obelisk. The opening in the ground was of a concave, geometrically-perfect almond shape. At the bottom of the pit was a fissure the same shape as the depression itself, whose depths Catherine could not fathom.
“This is the Nat Turner Memorial,” Serenity said proudly . . .
As Serenity expected, he got no response from Catherine. The beguiling official just stared down into the abyss, a puzzled look on her face. After a moment, she turned to him.
“A hole in the Ground?” she said. “What kind of a monument is that?” . . .
“It’s an anti-phallic symbol,” he explained . . .”I hate to say what it reminds me of,” Catherine said.
“See down there?’ Serenity asked, pointing to the fissure in the depression. “It’s 180 meters deep, as deep as the Washington Monument was high.”
“It looks like a giant cunt,” she said. (pp. 193-195; 199-200)
In a only a few pages, Kevin Beary has taken deadly aim at several of the Holy Canons of the contemporary Marxist orthodoxy and disposed of them with devastating wit: feminism, the Puritan mania for annoying their betters by banning the minor vices on health grounds when their true motivation is control of others (a neo Volstead Act against tobacco in the Corridor); a horror of using plain speech along with a use of English larded with so many euphemisms and murky circumlocutions that it is difficult to even make sense of what they are saying. Corridorians also display the spineless negro and mestizo worship we have come to expect of the American Left. Mixed in with all this is the typical Bolshevist fake history, much of it so far off the mark that it is comical.
The author has developed his own Newspeak similar to that which Orwell used in Nineteen Eighty-Four. The terms used by Beary are similar to the real euphemisms in current use today:
- Womanchild (female child)
- Harmony Enhancement Sisterhood (Corridorean all-female army)
- Office of Sororal Significance (Corridorian government agency)
- “that’s a suggestion” (that’s an order), “suggested to report” (ordered to report)
- West Hole (West Point)
- Ethnic misunderstanding (riot)
- Goddessdamn (Goddamn) Oh, Goddess! (Oh, God!)
- Brownaid (skin darkening agent used by Corridorean females to more resemble the darker races in the nations to the south of the Corridor)
All in all, a much underrated book. I believe it should take its place in the literature alongside Nineteen Eighty-Four, Brave New World, and Camp of the Saints.
1. Lothrop Stoddard, Rising Tide of Color (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1922).
2. Madison Grant, Passing of the Great Race (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1916).
3. Kevin Beary, The Savaged States of America (In Qua Urbe, 1998).
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