1. As part of my odyssey into multicultural damnation, i read Jean Raspail’s 1973 The Camp of the Saints.
In this novel, he envisages the destruction of Europe under a deluge of 3rd World invasion, passed off as migration, hate-filled invaders presented as poor refugees by the Left-wing elite. A fleet of 3rd World invaders board ships and sail slowly to Europe. Most of the book concerns the various Left-wing elites’ reaction to this invasion, with politicians and journalists grinning about diversity and compassion and a new world order, a world without class, race, nation, a world without borders. Pop bands compose songs in support of the invasion. A Left-wing Brazilian pope weeps and wrings his hands and encourages Europe to open its doors to the dispossessed and wonderfully poor fleet. Young white people go to the shore to welcome the invaders with food and supplies. They wave “we are all the Ganges Armada now!” banners.
Those who resist or demur are, as one would expect, accused of racism and fascism and of being all-round nasty types. Finally, the invasion fleet arrives, and the poor refugees from the 3rd World take over Europe, robbing, plundering, and killing all who resist. Finis Europae.
2. It’s not a great novel, not even i would say a good novel – the prose is good but all the characters sound identical, and it reads more like a tract; however, it takes on a certain power in these last days. Raspail is pleasantly unaccommodating; as i see it, he regards Europe as doomed unless it can recognise that universal love is meaningless, that one must first love one’s own community and culture, and protect it against destruction:
Man has never really loved humanity all of a piece – all its races, its peoples, its religions – but only those creatures he feels are his kin, a part of his clan, no matter how vast. As far as the rest are concerned, he forces himself, and lets the world force him. And then, when he does, when the damage is done, he himself falls apart.
i think it’s fair to say that no one could love human beings just for being human beings, because there are 7.4 billion of us and so the category becomes meaningless. On an alien planet, surrounded by tentacle-waving green monsters, i dare say i would be relieved, nay delighted, to meet even a pre-Columbian Aztec; just as, surrounded as i am by Germands and Americans, i am always happy to meet an Engländer – even though i would feel absolutely no affinity for any of the English colleagues i’ve met, if we were back in England. To say a pen and paper are identical because both are made of atoms, is not helpful. Further – i like pens but am very choosy and so would never use a 20 quid fountain pen (it would leak and feel cheap), or a throwaway biro. The idea that one must identify with another, just because he’s human, is absurd – try asking a Social Justice Warrior to sympathise with a straight white man who stubbed his toe. The truth of the matter is that we naturally cluster into groups, and regard those beyond a certain limit as somewhere between alien and enemy. One sees this where Social Justice Warriors turn on each other; at the moment, the various SJW groups (Feminist, Muslim, gay, paedophile, trans-everything, Black etc., Marxist, etc.) are only united by their hatred of those who created Western civilisation, a civilisation sufficiently open-minded to allow these folk to thrive.
– but long before the last straight white man has been murdered, these groups will turn on each other, and i think one can safely say a mob of angry fat Feminists with dyed hair will not fare well against a billion AK-47-wielding Muslims.
3. Raspail’s Brazilian Pope is right on:
…a statement by His Holinless, Pope Benedict XVI, the official text of which reads as follows. I quote: “On this Good Friday, day of hope for Christians the world over, we beseech our brethren in Jesus Christ to open their hearts, souls, and worldly wealth to all these poor unfortunates whom God has sent knocking at our doors. There is no road save charity for a Christian to follow.” […]
“How do you like that?” the President exclaimed, over the concerto that followed. “I can just hear the good Lord above, complaining, ‘Et tu, fili?’ What else could you expect from a Brazilian? The cardinals wanted a new-style pope. For the universal Church, they said.
It is hard not to grimace at the irony of the novel’s Marxist Brazilian Pope being titled Benedict XVI, when Joseph Ratzinger (the real Benedict XVI) was unceremoniously shuffled off stage to make way for a pope seemingly modelled on Raspail’s Leftist. As the Germands say, the fish stinks from the head, so here is a public announcement by the novel’s French President, who doesn’t believe a word he says:
Five hours from now, a million refugees will peacefully begin to set foot on our soil. Refugees whose race, religion, language, and culture are different from our own. For the most part they will be women and children, jobless and needy peasants, all fleeing from famine, and misery, and despair.
4. The dissenters are as usual few. A Special Forces colonel who tries to hold back the hordes with his few men – one of my favourite lines:
Let’s go up there, Captain. If you’ve still got a conscience, now’s the time to forget it! Sit on it, damn it! And for God’s sake, fire!
And a right-wing journalist who can’t print due to a union strike:
“I can’t tell,” Machefer replied, “if you’re all a gang of bastards, or just stupid assholes!” He shrugged his shoulders, and added as he left: “Just assholes I guess! Too bad!”
It looks like Europe can no longer be saved.
When Europe has become a colony of the 3rd World, and people in Japan or Australia scratch their heads and wonder how the civilisation of Dante, Goethe, of the Gothic architects, of Mozart, Frederick the Great, could have slit its own throat within a generation, perhaps it will suffice to say “just stupid assholes I guess!”