I frequently see articles by race realists expressing a pro-futurist, pro-technology angle. I roll my eyes, but that’s fine. If you’re an optimist concerning technology, so be it. But if you don’t explore the underlying issues that would make that tech-future possible, you haven’t made your case. All of that tech has to be backed up with the resources that foster a climate of innovation, and which can support industry and markets built on those innovations. These are big concerns, but as we have had these elements and they have functioned so well for so long, we tend to take them as givens. But without the necessary fossil fuels to support them, it will fail. And despite assurances to the contrary, we can no longer take energy for granted.
There are plenty of good reasons to pursue a space program, but we must always be wary of the sort of blind assumptions that undergird techno-futurist thinking. Space colonization is the stuff of fantasy, better left to Hollywood. To devote our energies to a “destiny among the stars” is a diversion from our real mission, which is of course a white homeland. In the here, and in the now.
The discussion below will focus on the likelihood that ours is not a technological future, and that our destiny is not the stars; moreover, that Earth is our home, for which we must fight. Our challenge is to resume our proper place as the rulers and guardians of our lands and people. We are not destined to run away to some sublimated version of Heaven on some other planet. Our ancestors entrusted us with the care of a great treasure, a treasure which our immediate forbears have allowed to be overrun and despoiled by interlopers. It falls to us to recover what is ours, to remember and celebrate our ancestors, and to become ancestors who will one day be worthy of being honored.
I certainly do not expect complete agreement from all readers; I suggest, however, that careful study of the numbers pertaining to oil production and the projections for future drilling from unbiased sources is needed. Trust no one offering only clear skies and vast horizons. The world is full of liars and fools. I can’t stress enough the need to think much more carefully about energy resources.
In the film Interstellar, the main character says, “Mankind was born on Earth. It was never meant to die here.”’ It’s nice dialogue, but it’s fiction, and it could not be more wrong. Just because something sounds good doesn’t mean it makes sense. Man is an animal, like any other: a simple biological machine. No animal can survive for long outside of its element. To exempt man from this rule is to make him a god. We are not gods. Remember what follows hubris.
Man was not merely born on Earth, he is born of Earth. Man is Earth. Beyond our atmosphere, he is little better than a fish out of water. Indeed, a man could much more easily survive underwater than he could in space. Imagine living life entirely underwater, never having contact with land, air, or any of the other resources of that world again. Once your breathing apparatus stopped working, its replacement would have to be manufactured underwater, as would the machines to manufacture that apparatus. The structures you occupy, any means of transportation or communications gear, desalinization equipment, and so forth – just to name a few essentials – all would have to be made underwater. Apart from sheer muscle power, all the work of any consequence that has ever been carried out by man has been accomplished by burning fossil fuels. Difficult to do underwater; more difficult still in space. And if we think that’s difficult, imagine farming underwater, where there is no soil, little light, only salt water for irrigation, and so on. Farming in space would present its own unique problems that would likely make feeding ourselves far more difficult.
And then of course there are the psychological effects of trying to adapt to a completely inhospitable world. Imagine the long-term effects of living exclusively in a necessarily tiny, enclosed habitation; undergoing decreased illumination, as well as a lack of wide-open spaces and vast horizons; and enduring the suffocating effects of knowing that you are surrounded on all sides by a hostile, lethal environment. How would that affect our facility for ambition and adventure, or even just the maintenance of proper mental health? Ever had a dream where you’re suffocating? I imagine there’d be a lot of that.
Man needs Earth because, again, he is Earth. We are made of the same carbon and water, in a finely-tuned mix, as the planet. Man is adapted to fulfill his bodily needs with what this planet provides, and he is adapted psychologically to the demands of this planet. Some will retort, “Well, all we need to do is find another planet like Earth to go to.” Do we realize the odds of that occurring? Do we, here at the peak of civilization, even have a close approximation of Earth in our sights? Do we not realize how delicate is the balance of factors that create and maintain life on this planet? A simple virus can wipe out a continent’s worth of people, as it did with the American Indian. Our own planet is dangerous to human life! Imagine the infinite ways of buying the farm on Planet X.
And even if we were to find a planet identical to Earth, how would we get there? It would require vast resources, both in terms of money and fossil fuels. Let’s assume we can find a way to get there (no small assumption!), imagine the weight of the payload which would include enough fossil fuels to build a civilization on another planet, along with the crew of workers required to do it. Imagine the danger of such a launch were it to fail on liftoff. The explosion and losses would be immense, and the attempt would never be repeated. And if you think that instead of carrying fuel, you’ll build that civilization with the resources you find there, then you haven’t considered what that would actually require. Get yourself a shovel and dig a hole sometime. Back-breaking labor is instructive.
And further, consider the number of people required to establish a successful (and inevitably temporary) settlement on another planet. It would take hundreds of individual communities on this other planet before we could be assured of the likelihood of man’s survival there. Adam and Eve were a myth. Merely two people would not be able to successfully populate a planet. Some disaster would inevitably befall them and wipe out the entire population – thus the importance of scattered, independent communities.
The numbers that could realistically travel to another planet are substantially smaller than those that came, for example, from Europe to America. And let’s remember that this endeavor was on our own planet, in a place largely the same as where the colonists came from, and that even though there were a lot of us, and in some cases even had help from the native peoples already there, we still failed initially. May I remind the reader how vastly more difficult and expensive a space mission is? One of this scope would be orders of magnitude more difficult and expensive than any other yet attempted.
But even more crucial than all of these factors is that we are running out of oil. Yes, I know, we’re told that we are awash in it: it’s an embarrassment of riches, a veritable feast, a vision of cornucopian plenty.
Don’t believe a word of it.
Despite the recent uptick in the economy (thank you, God Emperor Trump), the most profitable industry in America remains finance. (It’s all a big Ponzi scheme, of course. But that’s a discussion for another time.) What you hear from the media on this subject is mere propaganda. If you listen to NPR (why are we paying taxes for this?), you will soon realize that their primary mission is not the promotion of multiculturalism, feminism, sexual deviancy, or other types of subversion. These are all present, but to a lesser degree. No, it’s to support investors. It’s radio for rich people (SJPL – you figure it out). The other media are more or less the same in this regard. They consider it more important to help business than to protect a few penny stock investors (who, as everybody knows, are always left holding the bag long after the rich have bailed; and are in truth the real source of Wall Street profits – i.e., suckers).
I cannot stress enough that all the hype you are hearing about the oil industry is just that. It’s about investment concerns creating a utopian narrative – based on very little in terms of facts – to keep the profits rolling in. And the media is just as corruptly enmeshed in it as Wall Street, K Street, and our government.
Fracking, no matter how you slice it, is nowhere near as profitable as conventional wells. It costs much more to attain oil through fracking, and the wells play out much quicker. The same can be said for Canada’s tar sands oil. It is very expensive to obtain and is highly environmentally destructive. In short, both of these methods are a textbook definition of “scraping the bottom of the barrel.” The only reason we are doing it at all is because the price of oil has gone high enough to make it profitable, and because there’s no conventional oil to be had that’s not already being exploited.
We are running out of oil. There are fewer and fewer, and ever-smaller deposits of oil – of poorer and poorer quality – being discovered. And yet we burn it up as if it were a use it or lose it proposition. Whatever happened to conserving for the future? And please note, it takes millions of years for our planet to make oil. Don’t expect a replacement supply any time soon. And don’t think that there is anything – anything –that can substitute for it.
Some people believe that solar and nuclear energy will eventually compensate for diminishing oil resources. Solar power is a bad joke. It’s plentiful, to be sure, but is also extremely diffuse. Fossil fuels are very concentrated and are thus very efficient. Concentrating sunlight to make it useful to run a few lights around the house might be a fun hobby, but it won’t power a civilization. All the other much-touted “alternative energies” are similarly useless, including nuclear – which requires the input of about as much fossil energy as it outputs in nuclear energy over the plant’s useful lifespan, and which also can’t substitute for the many other things that fossil fuels are used for, such as plastics. And note that until those nuclear plants, solar installations, wind farms, and so on are built using power from their own resources, they are really just another form of fossil fuel energy, for without fossil fuels, these other forms of energy cannot be usefully exploited in the first place.
Technically speaking, for all you niggling yeabobs, it is true that we will never completely run out of oil. We will simply reach a point of relative scarcity resulting from the difficulty of accessing it, such that it will take more oil to drill and process the crude than the oil thus retrieved can replace. Nevertheless, I expect that for a period we will expend more energy on drilling than the energy we get from it. Thus is the nature of our civilization’s addiction to oil, which we are still in denial about. Everything is made of or from oil, right down to the food on your table! The plowing, planting, and harvesting that produced it; the fertilizer which helped it grow; the packaging which contains it and the vehicles used to ship it to you; and even the cooking of it, of course, unless you’re one of the few still using a wood-burning stove – all require fossil fuels.
The actual roots of this philosophy of “planet abandonment” lie in Christian teachings about Heaven. In this view, life in this world is awful. Live a righteous life, and you’ll go to Heaven. Life here is ultimately meaningless. The greater your suffering here, the greater your reward in Heaven. Give no thought to making the Earth a paradise, as your paradise awaits you above. And so on. I’ve lived long enough to have known a fair number of more or less devout Christians. Christianity is currently being replaced by liberalism, so Christians are increasingly less visible, but the Christians I’ve known have often been openly hostile to environmental concerns. I think it goes back to what I just described: forget the here and now, focus on the hereafter. When you’re raptured, you’ll leave it all behind: your clothing, your beer cans, your cigarette butts, your cares and woes. Thank you, Jesus!
And speaking of transhumanism (roughly speaking, the idea of transplanting a human’s consciousness into a computer or another organism in order to live forever), I can’t be the only one to recognize that it’s basically just the rapture for millennials.
Techno-futurism is a form of cowardice. It abandons all that is real and valuable for that which is vaporous. It says in effect, “Screw you guys, I’m out of here. I’m going to Heaven.” Of course, you have to die to get to Heaven, at which time you’d realize – if you were still conscious – that it’s just a story made up by people who were afraid of dying. All this talk of technology solving our problems by launching us into a perfect world is just silliness. Every innovation comes with a cost, and every step forward comes with an increasingly large downside, as society becomes increasingly complex. Increased complexity is one of the major causes of the collapse of societies, empires, and civilizations.
So not only is there no way out of here, but worse, we’re embracing the cause of the problem – complexity – as its solution. No, what’s needed is radical simplicity. Instead of pinning one’s hopes on a technological savior, we must face some simple and painful truths.
In discussions of space colonization, one inevitably reaches the point where someone will say, “I won’t live to see it. Likely, not even my great-grandchildren will see it. But someday . . .” Sorry, but this is the very definition of procrastination. Earth is our only home. We are going nowhere. Let’s put the thought out of our heads. We simply do not have the resources to achieve it. The stars are nice to look at, and they have much to teach us, but they don’t offer us a way out of our troubles.
Right-wingers who dream of space colonization are engaging in white flight writ large. It must be rejected. We’ve already spread across this world. Space is nothing more than the wall against which the white man is backed, beyond which he can go no further. Stand and fight. This far and no farther. Not for our children tomorrow, but for ourselves today. Right here, right now. We know what we want, so let’s go get it! No vainglorious, procrastinatory speechifying. Futurism is an excuse for sitting on one’s backside and doing nothing, for putting off today’s work until a tomorrow that will never come. Let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.
Our earthly problems, difficult though they are, are vastly easier to fix than it would be to build some sort of whitopia among the stars. Besides which, if we can’t overcome our enemies here on Earth, we are not worthy of our ancestors, and we should die.
Maybe this is our fate. There’s nothing special about man. Just like all other animals, we will eventually become extinct. That time may come at any moment. We can’t deny it. So, what the hell: die now, or die in a million years, but don’t flee from it. The coward’s blood does not run through our veins. The fault is not in our breeding, but in our indoctrination.
The past half-century has seen white men living as zombies: not quite dead yet, but not truly alive. The spark of manhood in us is dying. It’s a death of a thousand indignities. Our once-proud race has been taught to hate and feel ashamed of itself. We must recover our pride and dignity and channel our anger into vengeance upon those who have tried to destroy us, that they may never be allowed to manipulate us again.
We will no longer allow our brothers to be beaten and killed, our women and children to be taken from us, or our livelihoods and manhood to be destroyed. There is no way out of this. We have a task ahead of us – a sacred duty to our ancestors, ourselves, and our progeny. Stop looking for somewhere to run. Turn around and fight.
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Remembering Filippo Marinetti (December 22, 1876–December 2, 1944)
Robert Stark Interviews Charles Krafft
America First: 1939–1941
Remembering Filippo Marinetti (December 22, 1876–December 2, 1944)
The Challenger Disaster: Lessons for the Right
Lovely, Dark, & Deep: The Farthest: Voyager in Space