National Socialism     

Page III

For Holland and for Europe:

  For Holland and for Europe:      

The Life and Death of Dr. M. M. Host van Tonningen

What is the point of speaking about the past? Why take another look at the worldview of my late husband, who was a National Socialist? Is there any point in speaking about such things in the liberal democratic era in which we live today?

My answer is that there most certainly is, for it is only through an open-mindedness toward the past that we can understand the road to the future. An understanding of history guides us on that road.

My husband, Meinoud Marinus van Tonningen, was born on February 19, 1894 in Surabaja, Dutch East Indies, to a well-respected Dutch family, many of whose members had held positions of great national importance. My husband was brought up a patriot, and at the age of 15 he decided on a military career.

His father had also chosen that path, and had been decorated more than once for his loyal military service. At the zenith of his career, my husband's father was appointed commander-in-chief of the Royal Dutch Army in the Eastern Colonies, that is, for the area now known as Indonesia. He led the three famous Bali, Lombok, and Atjeh expeditions, for which he was appointed an Adjutant-General to the Queen. He resigned in 1909, however, as a result of the parsimonious attitude of the Dutch parliament toward the armed forces.

When the youthful Rost van Tonningen told his father of his military ambitions, the latter discouraged him with the words: "Don't, my boy. This parliament will never recognize the needs of our army and will prevent it from properly carrying out its mission, which is, above all, to withstand any foreign aggression. Believe me, my son, all your efforts would be in vain." It was not until years later that my husband came to understand the wisdom and farsightedness of his fathers advice, which proved to be not only correct for my husband, but prophetic for his country and for Europe as a whole.

In 1912 my husband decided to become an engineer. But the outbreak of the First World War in 1914 intervened, and he served instead in the army as an officer in the Royal Artillery. He learned a great deal by closely following the intense political controversy within the Dutch army during this period. He came to believe that only a thorough reform of the entire economic and political system could prevent the downfall of Europe. And out of that realization grew his interest in politics. Despite his father's protests, he did not resume his engineering studies after the end of the war in 1918, but instead registered as a law student at the University of Leiden.

The revolution which shook Germany and the immense economic crisis which loomed over Europe in the aftermath of the World War further strengthened Rost van Tonningen's determination to devote himself to an idealistic career in politics. In 1921 he was awarded his doctorate by the University of Leiden. His dissertation, on international law, dealt with possibilities of alleviating the economic and political distress in Central Europe, much of it in consequence of the imposed peace treaties of Versailles and St. Germain. At that time still a liberal by education and training, Rost van Tonningen believed that Central Europe could be rescued through the intervention of the League of Nations.

Eager to work for the League, Dr. Rost van Tonningen worked hard to improve his fluency in French, English, and German, so that he could deal with political and economic issues on a truly European basis. His understanding of international law and his close study of the operations and problems of the League of Nations made him a welcome volunteer at the League's headquarters in Geneva in 1922.

In the following year Rost van Tonningen was appointed assistant to the Commissioner General of the League of Nations in Vienna, Dr. Zimmerman, the former mayor of Rotterdam, who was attempting to revive the economy of the shriveled Austrian state on the basis of the Balfour Plan of 1922. Dr. Zimmerman, the first man of pronounced anti-Semitic opinions whom Rost van Tonningen had met, attributed a portion of postwar Austria's economic woes to the activities of Jewish speculators, many of whom had flocked to Vienna after 1918. Although Rost van Tonningen was not completely won over to the Commissioner General's standpoint, he became aware for the first time of the Jewish question in Central Europe.

In 1928 Rost van Tonningen left Vienna and the League to work as a banker at Hope & Co. in Amsterdam and New York, but the world economic crisis of 1931, which followed the New York Stock Exchange crash of 1929, led him to return to his work for the League of Nations in Vienna. The collapse of the Credit-Anstalt, Vienna's biggest bank in the spring of 1931 had been followed by financial disaster in Austria and Germany, and Great Britain's departure from the gold standard in September.

Dr. Rost van Tonningen became the representative of the Council of the League of Nations in Vienna, with a mandate to promote Austria's economic reconstruction. During the next five years he tried to work closely with the Austrian government in expanding Austrian productivity and trade with neighboring nations.

During that period Austria was beset by political as well as economic miseries. The Christian Socialists, strongly clerical and authoritarian, banned both the Marxist Social Democrats and the National Socialists, setting up a one-party state under the dictatorial rule of Engelbert Dollfuss (until his assassination in an unsuccessful National Socialist putsch in 1934) and Kurt Schuschnigg.

Rost van Tonningen, who at first worked closely with Dollfuss and opposed the National Socialists, grew horrified at Dollfuss' repression of his political enemies. At the same time, Dollfuss grew to oppose a union of Austria with Germany, which seemed to Rost van Tonningen to offer the only solution to Austria's economic problems.

Dr. Rost van Tonningen had meanwhile concluded that economic liberalism and free trade were no longer suited to Austria or to a politically balkanized Europe of small, independent states. He had come to believe that only the formation of a controlled economy, based on the just needs of a racial community occupying a large area (Grossraum), could enable the Europeans to compete, in the long run, with such vast entities as the Soviet Union, the British Empire, and the United States. His idea was one of the first expressions of the need for a European economic community.

In 1935 and 1936 most European countries devalued their gold currencies and went off the gold standard, threatening monetary chaos. My husband, now a convinced National Socialist, saw that the usefulness of the League to Austria and the rest of Europe was at an end. Accordingly, Rost van Tonningen resigned his position in Vienna, resolved to return to the Netherlands to devote himself to his country's National Socialist movement.

Before his return, my husband arranged through Germany's ambassador to Austria, Franz von Papen, to meet Hitler at his mountain chalet in Berchtesgaden. They discussed the Führer's policy toward England and the Germanic nations of the Continent; Rost van Tonningen learned that Hitler favored a united European economy, and that he believed that world prosperity would only be returned with the restoration of the purchasing power of Europe, a block of over 300 million people with a high standard of living.

In the Netherlands, Anton Mussert, leader of the Dutch National Socialist movement (Nationaal-Socialistisch Beweging), appointed Rost van Tonningen editor of the movement newspaper, Het Nationale Dagblad (The National Daily). The following year my husband was elected to the Dutch parliament, where he was able to observe first-hand how the party politicians obstructed their own experts, and those of the other parties, in solving the nations problems.

Within the Dutch National Socialist Movement, the N.S.B., there was at first no general agreement about the importance of large-scale economic thinking, or of racial unity. For example, Jews had been members of the N.S.B. since its founding in 1931. Before long, however, Dutch Jews organized a concerted campaign against the N.S.B., and it became impossible to ignore the Jewish question any longer. Mussert and my husband met to discuss this issue, and they agreed that it had to be solved in an orderly and peaceful way. They were convinced that the only solution would have to be an independent Jewish state.

Palestine was considered, but ultimately rejected as too small. Surinam, a Dutch colony in South America, was decided upon instead. Our party presented this plan to the Dutch parliament, where it was rejected by our political adversaries.

Meanwhile, Dr. Rost van Tonningen had been sent by Mussert to Germany to promote discussion of this "Mussert Plan" in the German press. Through Heinrich Himmler's intervention, my husband was able to meet and discuss the resettlement plan with Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop. After some hesitation, the foreign minister agreed to its publication. The permission of Dr. Goebbels' propaganda ministry for press treatment of the issue was also obtained, but in the end there was little mention made of the Mussert Plan. In 1937 my husband spoke privately for the first time with Heinrich Himmler, the "ReichsFührer SS," and soon became a member of his inner circle. Himmler held my husband in high esteem, and introduced him to leading German National Socialist figures in the fields of economics, sociology, and science. Next to Hitler, Himmler was the most significant personality in the Reich's leadership. His basic views can be summarized as follows:

• Unification of all Germans in a greater German Reich;
• cultivation of close ties between all Germanic people;
• unshakable faith in the greatness and abilities of the Nordic race;
• conviction that racial mixing, if carried too far, is disastrous.

From early 1940 rumors spread that Hitler planned to attack our country. My husband believed that a German invasion would make the task of the Dutch National Socialists impossible. Accordingly, he traveled to Berlin that spring to discuss his and Mussert's feelings with Himmler. Rost van Tonningen was unsuccessful in seeing the ReichsFührer, but was able to speak with his chief of staff, Obergruppenführer Wolff. Despite their understanding for the dilemma of the Dutch National Socialists, it was clear that the Germans mistrusted Great Britain and France, and believed (not without cause) that the government of the Netherlands was secretly pro-Allied.

A week before Germany attacked, Rost van Tonningen was arrested by the Dutch government, and accused of high treason over the national radio. Dutch authorities shifted him from place to place, fleeing before the German blitzkrieg. My husband was taken as far south as Calais, from where the Dutch government planned to carry him across the Channel to England, but was freed when the Germans captured the city.

Rost van Tonningen returned to the Netherlands at the start of June 1940. Since not only Queen Wilhelmina but the Dutch government as well had fled to England, General Winkelman, commander-in-chief of the Dutch land and sea forces, surrendered not only the army and navy but also the Dutch civil administration to the Germans. Hitler appointed the Austrian Arthur von Seyss-Inquart as Reichskommissar; the delicate situation which Rost van Tonningen feared had come to pass.

For a year Rost van Tonningen devoted himself to working politically with the German authorities. He was entrusted with closing down the Marxist parties, including the Communists and the Social Democrats, and building up a new organization, The Workers' Front (Arbeitsfront) for labor. Rost van Tonningen assumed control of the Het Volk (The People), the Social-Democratic daily; as long as the paper refrained from criticizing the occupation, Rost van Tonningen did not intervene in its workings.

Several parties were tolerated under the German occupation, including Mussert's National Socialists; "De Nederlandsche Unie" (Dutch Union), made up of members of several prewar parties; and the NSNAP (National Socialist Dutch Workers Party), which advocated the total incorporation of the Netherlands into the German Reich. When it became clear to my husband, a Dutch patriot, that the initial German policy of free development of political parties (not hostile to the occupation) had been abandoned, he ceased his political work. With war against the Soviet Union looming, Rost van Tonningen volunteered for service in the Waffen SS.

To Rost van Tonnigen's surprise Seyss-Inquart opposed his plans; the Reichskommissar prevailed on Himmler to reject Rost van Tonningen's application. Together with Anton Mussert, Himmler and Seyss-Inquart convinced my husband to accept the post of President of the Netherlands and Secretary-General of Finance. Rost van Tonningen's mission was a difficult one. Customs duties had been abolished between Germany and the Netherlands in January 1941; the resignation of Rost van Tonnigen's predecessor, Dr. Trip, had been prompted by the abolition of the foreign exchange barrier between the two countries on April 1, 1941. Although my husband was assured that these two steps had been taken with the ultimate aim of setting up a continental free trading community, this never came to pass.

Rost van Tonningen represented Dutch interests within the German-dominated wartime continental economy to the best of his ability. Although Hitler and Himmler were broadly sympathetic to the Dutch desire for autonomy, my husband's efforts met with much resistance in administrative and business circles.

After the Dutch capitulation the Netherlands Bank had become virtually a branch office of the Reichsbank. Various occupying authorities made big demands on the Dutch treasury: Göring wanted 500 million RM per month, and so forth. In early 194Z Dr. Fischböck, Seyss-Inquart's economic adviser, reached an agreement with Count Schwerin von Krosigk, Reichminister of Finance, obligating the Netherlands to contribute 50 million RM per month, retroactive to July 1, 1941, to the fight against Bolshevism. Despite these challenges, my husband was able to institute a thorough reform of the Dutch banking system. He defended the interests of Dutch business and workingmen alike. He devoted considerable energy to building up the Netherlands East Company, which joined in German reconstruction and development in the occupied Eastern territories in summer 1942.

Capture and Murder

M.M. Rost van Tonningen and I were married on December 21, 1940. ReichsFührer-SS Heinrich Himmler was best man. Our matrimonial vow echoed the SS oath: "Our honor is loyalty."

Before the end came for the German Reich, my husband and I were given the chance to escape to Brazil. He refused, determined to see things through to the end and ready to take responsibility for his acts. Finally granted his wish, he took up arms as a member of the Dutch Waffen SS.

Although my husband had let me decide for myself whether I should flee with our: two children to South America, naturally I declined. With the birth of my third child imminent, I made a perilous escape from advancing Polish troops across lands which the Germans had largely flooded to hinder the Allies' progress. A German ship then brought me to the island of Terschelling, in West Frisia, far from the front.

There, in a small room, unaided and alone, I brought my third child into the world, hale and hardy. My husband was never to learn of the birth of this son.

Soon the people of the village knew, however. My child's arrival was entered into the local register of births and, following the local custom, the town crier, after blowing on his great horn, proclaimed that the new-born child was the son of Rost van Tonningen. At virtually the same time the islanders learned of He official announcement of their country's liberation by the Allies, and the streets blossomed with little Dutch flags.

My husband was well known; his name adorned every Dutch bank note. The frenzied crowds, discovering that the wife of a notorious "collaborator" was in their midst, dragged my children and me from our room and would surely have lynched us in their wild hysteria had not the ship's doctor of the German vessel which brought me to the island happened by in his car just then. Driving into the crowd, he pulled us into the car and drove off at high speed.

Since the Kriegsmarine had capitulated, there was no chance of escaping on the ship which had brought me to Terschelling; like the rest of the German warships in the harbor, it was under embargo. Even my brave rescuer believed there was no hope for me; he offered me a poison capsule.

There was, however, one German vessel at anchor there which hadn't been seized, for it wasn't a warship. I begged the captain to help my children and me escape. Without wasting any words he weighed anchor and we sailed off into the North Sea, negotiating dangerous minefields until we reached Cuxhafen, at the mouth of the Elbe. I was eager to reach Germany because I believed, following the death of Adolf Hitler on April 30, that the Allies might cease hostilities against the Reich and march, together with the remaining Waffen SS formations, against the Red Army. Himmler had transmitted just such a proposal, through Count Bernadotte, to the British and Americans, and my husband, close to the Reichsführer's circle, had gotten wind of it. Like my children, I was half-dead with hunger and fatigue, but I still hoped that I would meet my husband somewhere in Germany. That was not to be, however. As I was to learn later, M.M. Rost van Tonningen died brutally at the hands of his captors.

Shortly after arriving at Cuxhaven, where my children and I were admitted to the hospital, I learned that I was about to be arrested and extradited by the British. With the help of a nurse I escaped and, fleeing by foot with my children along country roads, made my way to Goslar in the Harz, where I was reunited with my family. After a few days, however, I was arrested by the British and returned to the Netherlands. It was only after returning that I learned something of my husband's fate.

At first I was kept prisoner in the subterranean dungeons of Ft. Honswijk, where I endured terrible treatment from the embittered and vengeful so-called Dutch "democrats." After my release, I was able to locate and regain custody of my three sons. but all our property had been confiscated.

My Fight for the Truth

I was then forced to make a living for my family and myself, not an easy thing for the widow of a prominent National-Socialist sympathizer in postwar Holland. Before the war I had studied biology under the great ethologist Konrad Lorenz, and my studies had brought me to China and the Dutch East Indies. Like other "collaborators." however, I was excluded from work in my own field.

At first I tried to support my sons by painting lampshades. No sooner had my persecutors learned of this than the rumor was spread that the lampshades were made of human skin (the same lie that was spread about Ilse Koch). I had to give up that enterprise. Thereafter I started an electrical equipment business. Trained as a biologist, I made myself into a businesswoman and technical expert. Beginning with 100 florins, over the course of 34 years I built up my business to a factory employing 25 men.

Since my release from prison I have worked tirelessly to establish the truth about my husband's death, of which I learned in my captivity. Due to the refusal of the allegedly "humane" and "democratic" regime which the Allies restored in the Netherlands. I have so far been able to learn very little.

In April 1945 M.M. Rost van Tonningen was captured by Canadian troops during the Allied invasion of the Netheriands. At first he was held, together with other Dutch SS officers, at a concentration camp in Elst. Following a visit by Prince Bernhard, consort of Queen Wilhelmina, my husband was transferred to Utrecht and then, on May 24, to a jail in Scheveningen, near The Hague. Thirteen days later he was murdered by his captors in Scheveningen.

I never received official notice of my husband's death, which authorities later claimed was a suicide. They have never produced any evidence to support this claim: the records pertaining to my husband have been sealed until the year 2069.

I was presented, however, with a bill from the municipal sanitation service of The Hague, for on June 6, 1945, the day of my husband's death, his remains were transferred, first from the prison to a hospital and then to a cemetery, in a garbage truck. It was given to me by a policeman named Gross, who carried a dossier with gruesome details of my husband's mistreatment.

When I visited the hospital to which my husband had been taken, the physician-in-charge was badly rattled when he learned who I was. When I asked him about my husbands death, he stammered, "No, no, Mrs. Rost van Tonningen, I can't talk about it." Then he took of his white coat and led me out of the hospital, where he hailed a taxi and directed me to the Witte-Brug Cemetery.

When I arrived there, it was the same story. The director was frightened, for he had been told to say nothing regarding my husband. He simply pointed to a row of portfolios, labeled "Secret," on a shelf, and told me that one of them told the story of my husband's death, of which he could say nothing more. Then he showed me the grave, a mass-grave set aside for paupers, into which my husband's body, without coffin, had been tossed.

Although I tried for years to obtain permission to reinter my husband in our family plot, I was unsuccessful. My request was taken under consideration by the Council of State, which procrastinated for some time before informing me that the grave had been cleared.

In 1950, which had been proclaimed a Holy Year by Pope Pius XII, I visited the Pope in Rome. He was aware of the mistreatment and murder of my husband, and he promised to help me. On my return to Holland, I visited the papal nuncio in order to obtain a document concerning my husband's death. I was unsuccessful, however, since the Minister of Justice, a Catholic who was cooperating with the nuncio, was suddenly transferred to the West Indies, where he had been appointed governor. His successor, who was Jewish, was not friendly to my case. My attempts to present my case to the International Court of Justice at The Hague were similarly frustrated.

When I reached seventy years of age, I fell ill, and required two operations. My sons were not interested in taking over the running of my factory, and during my convalescence some of my enemies, allegedly former members of the resistance, were able through various tricks, to gain control of my business.

During the past five years I have received over one hundred bomb threats, and my windows have been smashed many times. My brake cables have been cut. For my opponents, everything is allowed.

The press has stepped up its campaign against me as well. Since my husband had been a member of the Dutch parliament, I am entitled by law to a small pension. In 1984 a Dutch magazine discovered this, and the professional "anti- Nazis" succeeded in pressuring parliament to hold a hearing on whether my pension should be cancelled. So far they have been unsuccessful.

Nevertheless, I have become something of a judicial "muscle-meter," called "the Black Widow," on whom litigants and lawyers can try their strength. After my periodical Manuscripten published a picture of an unknown woman in the costume of a fisherman's wife, I was astounded to receive a letter from a lawyer demanding 50,000 florins for his client, an actress. Since we had (quite unawares) used her picture without obtaining permission, I was eventually forced to pay her 2,500 florins, as well as assume the costs of the lawsuit, an additional 10,000 florins.

My home has been twice searched by police looking for allegedly anti-Jewish literature. On their first search the police found a brochure which questioned the factuality of the Holocaust. The court found that to challenge the Holocaust was anti-Jewish, and I received a three-month suspended sentence. The second search resulted in the police confiscating Hitler's Mein Kampf and the Great Holocaust Trial. My trial for possession of these books will begin on March 9, 1989 [Mrs. Rost van Tonningen was subsequently convicted of possessing these forbidden books, each available from the IHR. -- Ed.].

I hope that I have been able to communicate successfully to an American audience something of my husband's life and the ideals for which we both struggled. My husband refused to abdicate his responsibilities or abandon his people. He stayed and fought honorably, only to be butchered. Why? I believe not merely because Rost van Tonningen was a Dutch National Socialist, but because he knew too much about those of his countrymen who cooperated with the Germans in the beginning, then went over to the Allies as Dutch patriots, "heroes of the resistance," and the like. Had my husband stood trial, his defense might have proved embarrassing for many Dutchmen in high places.

In my life I have experienced many high points, as well as low points. I have tried to be equal to each situation, always attempting to live in accordance with the spiritual basis of life, the mission that is given each of us to carry out on the earthly plane. The life of each of us is merely a thread in the larger fabric or plan.

I still count our meetings with Adolf Hitler as highlights in my life. For us he was a leader who dedicated, and sacrificed, himself for his people, one who eminently fulfilled his life's mission. He united his countrymen, of all classes and stations, from the aristocracy to the farmers and laborers, as had no man before him. His soldiers fought heroically to the last, particularly the men of the Waffen SS, not only Germans but from across Europe. Like my beloved brother, who died in combat in the ranks of the SS, and my husband, I think of Adolf Hitler as the first European.

I shall close with the words of Rudolf Hess, the martyr who earned, but was never awarded, the Nobel Prize for Peace. After being sentenced to life imprisonment at Nuremberg despite his flight for peace, he told the court:

If I were standing once again at the beginning, I would act again as I acted, even though I knew at the end I would burn at the stake. No matter what people may do, one day I shall stand before the judgment seat of God Eternal. I will justify myself to Him and I know that He will absolve me.

Source: Reprinted from The Journal of Historical Review, vol. 9, no. 4, pp. 427-438

THE SONG, NOT THE SINGER 

by Harold A. Covington

[April, 1998]

Our people are dying. White people throughout the Western world are aging inexorably, our heads growing grayer and our bodies weaker as the years roll on, years in which we have done nothing to stop the slow encroachment of racial death and extinction.

We have fiddled while the Rome we knew burns around us. Every year fewer and fewer White babies are born, to the point where some desperate European countries are at long last offering financial bounties to the dwindling number of young married couples to produce White infants--while at the same time we slaughter millions more through abortion. Every year more and more mud-colored spawn swarm across our open borders, in North America and in Europe. Every year more Whites are butchered like hogs by the blacks and Third Worlders. Their victims are mostly White women, children, and elderly, the very most precious people that any sane society would strive to protect.

The corruption of our government and the loss of our Constitutional rights are now so far advanced that neither can be stopped. In our lifetimes we will see the United States transformed into a Third World tyranny, a de facto one-party oligarchical state like Mexico or Singapore. Racial integration, bureaucratic meddling and political correctness in the public schools have wrought havoc, destroying two whole generations of young White people, turning our sons into illiterate Beavis and Buttheads, and our daughters into air-headed, Clueless Valley Girls who will present us with mulatto grandchildren. We are dying.

FOR FIFTY YEARS, a number of us in each generation have understood and fought against the problem. Hundreds of thousands of people down through the past five decades have been involved in a vast spectrum of right-wing and racially oriented attempts to stop the slow coming dark. From John Birchers to Klan to National Socialists and Christian Identity, we have all failed. We have failed wretchedly, miserably, pathetically. Every attempt at organizing a White racial resistance in this country and throughout the English-speaking world has collapsed into a welter of internal bickering, chaos, recrimination, treachery, betrayal, and comic opera incompetence.

Always remember this one key fact: every major right-wing or racial organization in the past fifty years has without exception been destroyed FROM WITHIN by its own members, NOT by the government! We are a joke. Our Movement is to real politics what professional wrestling is to real sports--a form of slapstick entertainment.

For twenty-five of those fifty horrible years, I have observed this pathetic Movement from within. I have written article after article, commentary after commentary, arguing, expostulating, ruthlessly exposing those among us who have been, and still are, guilty of the most contemptible crimes and despicable behavior. Over it all I have raised my voice time and time again, arguing, persuading, castigating, pleading, sometimes almost weeping as I have begged my dying people to stop the madness, to think what they are doing, to change their behavior and to return to sanity.

I have remained largely unheard, and for all my efforts I have in return been subjected to the most false, vicious and hateful personal smear campaign in the history of American alternative politics. The Internet has accelerated this campaign of abuse and defamation against me to levels which have appalled even neutral or liberal observers who do not agree with National Socialism and don't particularly like me. I cannot count the number of e-mails, letters, and phone calls I have gotten in recent months, sometimes from people who have not spoken to me in years, to the effect of "Harold, this has just gone too far. How in God's name do you stand it?"

I stand it because it is my duty to do so. But there comes a time when one has to sum up a life's vocation, and that time has, I think, come upon me now as far as the Movement goes. This document will be my definitive statement on the Movement--on why it has failed in the past and on what can be done to turn things around, if only we as a people can summon the necessary effort of will to do so.

One final time, I will offer to all of you what I have seen and learned over this past quarter century, as a guide to you who will come after and who will be as horrified, perplexed, and saddened by it all as I have been. I fully understand and accept that once again, I will be largely ignored and shouted down by those who have a vested interest, personal and financial, in maintaining the status quo. But I will have done my duty.

You can only lead a horse to water for so long. If he does not want to drink, the time comes when you must let him die. After this I intend to avoid the subject of the Movement as much as possible, or at least as much as I am allowed to do so by the GUBU. The Movement has a tendency to drag one down into the mire no matter how desperately one attempts to break free. But for this one last time, I will try to get through to you. We must change our behavior and our thinking. We are dying.

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THE GREAT PARADOX

The secret of the Movement's failure for the past fifty years can be summed up in a single sentence. I call it the Great Paradox: "The Cause is so right; the people in it are so wrong."

Yes, I know I have said this before, but it bears repeating. The Great Paradox must become part of the political and racial thought of our Movement, for without acknowledging and understanding it, our Folk will perish.

Our problem is not one of ideology, of tactics, of money, or of propaganda, although all of these have proven woefully deficient. At its very root, our problem is one of people. We simply do not attract and retain the correct caliber of human material to White Right, and until we can correct this problem we will continue to be a grotesque joke. We do not attract and retain mature, responsible adults. We do not attract and retain young people in sufficient numbers. Above all, we do not attract women in any significant numbers. The surest giveaway that something is badly, intrinsically wrong with the Aryan racial nationalist movement is our near total failure to attract any women at all. No human enterprise can hope to succeed with one half of humanity missing from its ranks.

I will attempt to explain why the Great Paradox exists, what perpetuates it, and how it can be overcome, and again I must remind you that all of this is based on twenty-five years of first-hand experience. But before I do, let me play devil's advocate with you, as I have often done with myself:

The Jews and the liberals are very much aware of the Great Paradox, and their response down through the years has always been along the lines of: "Your people are all wrong because your cause is wrong; because you oppose and persecute the Apple of God's Eye, the Jews; because you are based only on empty hate; because Jews and non-Whites are really superior to White people and all the history of the past thousand years which looks contrary to that is just a kind of accident which is now being corrected; because destiny has selected the White man for extinction and therefore will only allow you the dregs. You people screw up all the time because you are fools, because you have set yourselves up against the manifest will of God, which is that all human beings will someday be coffee-colored and mostly homosexual, except for the Jewish who people will rule over you forever because we are superior and chosen by God. You don't attract women because you are weak and stupid and ugly and lazy and dysfunctional, poor genetic material, and Nature will not allow you to reproduce. You are LOSERS!"

More times than I care to remember, in my despair and my anguish at what I see and hear and experience in our floundering around, I have sat down in the dark night of the soul and gone over it all again in my mind, starting with the proposition "Could it be that the Jews are right? Could it be that they really are God's chosen and we have lethally erred in opposing them? Could it be that it really is part of some inexorable cosmic plan that all of the races of mankind shall be mixed up into a kind of coffee-colored soup, all distinct cultures destroyed and melded into a worldwide consumer society, and that the Aryan should disappear like other extinct species?"

First, I look at the Jews, and without meaning to be blasphemous, I simply say that if they are indeed God's Chosen People, I want no part of a God who would choose a race like this as His representatives on earth. I am not a Christian, but I think the Christians may be onto something when they assert that the Jews are the spawn of Satan. I think it entirely likely that the Jews are in some way psychically or genetically linked with those cosmic forces which are destructive and evil and inimical to human life. Losers we may be, but if the price of becoming a winner is to submit to the implied and ofttimes directly stated superiority of these creatures, I do not want to win at such a price.

Then I look at my own people and our incredible, magnificent, unbelievably breath-taking past. I read the words of William Shakespeare. I listen to the sounds of Mozart, of Gregorian chant, the Irish uillean pipes and the bluegrass banjo. I see in my mind's eyes the wooden sailing vessels on which our forefathers crossed the mighty Atlantic, and remember the time I saw a Saturn V lift off from Canaveral.

We are the race of the Gothic cathedral, the steam engine and the laser; we are the men who stood in the pass at Thermopylae and charged with Pickett; ours are the sonnets of Petrarch and ours the tongue that all the world now seeks to speak; ours the minds that conceived the very idea of the railroad, the supremacy of law over man, the ideal of freedom itself. We White men, with our sisters at our side, made the world, for good or for ill. Why on earth would the Creator who made and guided us this far cast us aside now?

I am one of these people who believe that man was given the rational faculties of the mind in order to use them, and I cannot find any rational, logical reason why my people should perish from the face of the earth just because a loathsome little race of parasites and human serpents hates and envies us. The death of Aryan man is not the will of God, my friends. It is the will of the Jew, and him we can fight. So let's get out of our heads right now any idea that we are wrong to want to save our race, or that we are pre-destined to lose. We are right, and the Jew is wrong, and we can win back our world if we decide to exert the necessary effort of will to do so. Period. End of story.

THE LAST REAL WHITE MEN LIVED 100 YEARS AGO

The generation of men born in the Western world during the 1880s and 1890s was the last completely spiritually healthy generation of our race. Every generation since then has been increasingly tainted with Judaism, applying Robert Miles' definition that Judaism is a state of mind.

Those who survived the butchery on the Somme and at Verdun gave us Fascism and National Socialism as a kind of moral vaccine, in order that Western man would never go through another such holocaust. They failed, in my opinion because they underestimated the sheer evil of the enemy we face. Theirs was the last generation who truly believed that good must inevitably triumph simply by virtue of being right; sadly, we now know better. Good does not always triumph over evil; if that were true then the Stars and Bars would be flying over my local post office and we'd be reading about National Socialist Germany's Martian colonies in our newspapers.

White generations since then have been progressively weaker, flabbier, duller, confused, and poisoned with Judaic values of materialism, ego, and selfishness. It is no surprise that we lack the strength of character our grandfathers and great-grandfathers possessed, and I have come to realize down through the years that it is in fact unrealistic to expect someone raised on MTV to think and behave like a whole, mature man.

The entire apparatus of modern Judæo-capitalist society is devoted to denying the White male his manhood and the White woman her womanhood, to reducing us all to economic units of production and consumption devoid of personality, religion, culture, or personal honor. It is no coincidence that the best comrades we now have in the NSWPP are by and large the oldest; they were born into a lost time when moral and ethical standards had not yet completely disappeared, and they still retain some vestiges of Aryan pride, honor and personal integrity.

A PARADOX IN THREE PARTS

The Great Paradox is a product of the moral and emotional weakness of post World War Two Aryan man. It has three parts or facets to it, all of which come into play at various times within the Movement.

These weaknesses are intrinsic to the character of the twentieth-century White man who has been raised and conditioned to material luxury, high technology, the immediate gratification of all whims and desires, and during a slow erosion of moral standards which is now almost complete. White men born after 1940 are all pretty much amoral. We behave as we do, and not like our brave and honorable ancestors, because we are not spiritually the same men our ancestors were. We are all a product of late twentieth-century America (or Europe), not the generation of one hundred years ago. Our values are largely those of the Jews who shaped and who control the world in which we live. The result is that in our attempts to resist we invariably display the following three character weaknesses:

I. EGO. People enter the Movement for the wrong reasons, seeking to GET SOMETHING OUT OF IT, not put something INTO it. I have noticed down through the years that virtually everyone who comes into racial political activity brings with them some kind of AGENDA, be it religious, financial, or political, covert or openly proclaimed--and more often than not, that agenda has little if anything to do with securing the existence of our people and a future for White children.

The overwhelming majority of the weird and dysfunctional behavior commonly manifested by people within the Aryan racialist movement is due in some way to ego, and to these destructive and diversionary personal agendas. Racial people find more often than not that they are working with others who have their own clashing agendas. When these egotists are unable to implement their personal agendas, when they cannot create whatever fantasy world they have decided their Movement involvement must fulfill, they become angry and frustrated and begin lashing out at their leaders and their comrades who are all so stupid and self-centered that they refuse to recognize the urgency and overriding importance of our little personal agenda over theirs. Ambrose Bierce defined an egotist as "A cad and entirely unworthy fellow, who is more interested in himself than in me." He could have been talking about the typical White racist.

Movement people also tend to share another ego-related character defect in common: we either become convinced, or have been convinced from birth, that we are Bee's Knees. Our ideas are the best, our minds are the most brilliant, our views are the only correct ones, we are totally cool and clever beyond words, we know it all, been there, done that. Anyone so presumptuous as to deny or denigrate what a fine fellow altogether we are, or who is so rude and crude as to hint that we might actually be capable of error--why, such a person is an enemy of the White race! Anyone who so much as suggests that we might make a mistake--blush at the very words!--must of course be an enemy agent! You might call this the Bill Pierce Syndrome; I sometimes think that old codger has *Ich bin Göttlich* embroidered on his underwear.

What we have witnessed over the past fifty years, as time after time our Movement has degenerated into a three-ring circus with a cageful of baboons, is largely the result of trying to put together a working team of people, all of whom have Mount McKinley-sized egos and are convinced that they are Bee's Knees. The inability of right-wingers, racists and otherwise sincere National Socialists to get along with one another in groups of more than three or four people at a time has become a byword in the Movement; hence the NSWPP's strict adherence to the cell system. Right now, I frankly don't dare get even our group's relatively high quality people together in one room in more than handfuls.

To be fair and complete about this, there is a another, slightly more charitable explanation to the question of why we are unable to get along together without squabbling like fishwives, again ego-related. It may legitimately be said that the American Right is the last refuge of the genuine, rugged individualist, the man who marches to the beat of his own drum and makes his stand against all comers, the independent thinker, the true non-conformist, the cracker-barrel philosopher and lone wolf.

That, as I have said, is the more charitable explanation, and there is some truth in it. The sad fact is, however, that most of the people who disrupt, destroy, undermine and cause all this ego-related GUBU in the Movement are not independent thinkers or nonconformists. They are assholes. There is a difference: independent thinkers create, while assholes merely destroy.

There is a strong case to be made that the racial enemy is aware of this characteristic of our people and has in the past employed deliberate disrupters--and that they are doing so now, in at least one case, I have no doubt. But we give them a hell of a lot to work with. There's an old saying which cuts to the heart of the Movement's personnel problem: "Great minds talk about ideas; average minds talk about events; little minds talk about people." Most of you reading this will have some Movement experience. What kind of mind comprises the groups you are familiar with?

II. COWARDICE. For some reason which defies rational analysis, we have convinced ourselves that there can be such a thing as risk-free revolution.

I know of no other ostensibly revolutionary movement in history, of any kind, who have entered into their struggle with the idea that they would incur no personal risk, and that somehow or other the tyranny they were opposing would simply go away, without any armed forced being applied and without any physical or political struggle. Yet that is apparently what most of our Movement people believe is going to happen as regards the United States government. Apparently, most of us have this touching faith that one day the purity of our ideals will simply overwhelm our enemies, our problems will vanish in a puff of smoke, and the days of Ozzie and Harriet will return.

Our ancestors fought Indians and bears, weathered prairie blizzards, climbed the Rockies and carved homes out of the wilderness. Today, threaten a White man's precious job with some multinational and he crumples like paper. I have witnessed grown men become little short of hysterical when they are exposed to the mildest degree of heat, shrieking to be removed from mailing lists and demanding that the Party never contact them again, ever--and yet these same men would often bitch and moan at me that I wasn't "doing anything" and they wanted "action".

What these people really want, of course, is not action but ENTERTAINMENT, which is not the same thing. Anyone in the NSWPP can have all the action they want--but the catch is you have to make it yourself. I cannot comprehend the mindset of someone who embarks on a course aimed at removing and destroying an entire power structure, that of the most powerful and destructive tyranny the world has ever seen, and yet who is genuinely stunned and horrified when that power structure strikes back violently to defend itself. We have this delusion that some tacit understanding exists between ourselves and ZOG, an unspoken agreement that it's all just for laughs, that we won't really do anything to annoy the powers that be and they on their part will kindly refrain from crushing us. Then when the system lashes out and punishes us, we are honestly amazed that they're taking it all seriously. Don't they understand that we don't really mean it? Yes, they do understand that most of us don't really mean it, but sometimes they crush us anyway just to show us who's boss. Ask Randy Weaver.

We scribble and rave in our little cut-and-paste newsletters and shabby tabloids about "Aryan warriors" while declining every opportunity to become a warrior ourselves, even through the gentle warriordom of a computer or through passing out a handful of leaflets. Whenever things get hot in our own Movement, the "Aryan warriors" scurry for cover. Let a few guns go off or let some FBI agents in expensive suits come to our workplace and do Clint Eastwood impressions, and almost without exception our people start screaming "Stop the merry-go-round, I want to get off!"

Sometimes, of course, they find themselves on a roller coaster instead of a merry-go-round. I cannot count the times I have witnessed people get themselves into trouble through their own stupidity and then blame the Movement because we cannot provide thousands of dollars for lawyers, and blame the leader (sometimes me, sometimes another; this behavior pattern is universal) because the leader cannot wave a magic wand and make it all go away. When the leader proves unable to pull a rabbit out of a hat, we hear the bleated refrain, "You betrayed me! You got me into trouble!" No, fool, you got YOURSELF into trouble because you did something idiotic-- just what the devil did you think would happen?

III. IRRESPONSIBILITY. Another illusion we cherish, even more than the chimera of risk-free revolution, is that of the Man On The White Horse. We long for the mighty Leader Figure who will descend from the clouds on his snowy steed, waving his shining sword aloft (or possibly his magic wand), and who will do it all for us. We need never incur any personal risk, just write this Man On A White Horse the occasional token donation check, sit back, and applaud while he vanquishes the hordes of ZOG for us.

We commit what is, in this degenerate and self-absorbed society, the worst mistake of all--we place our trust in living men instead of in ideas. And the men we trust, almost without exception, turn out to be fatally flawed idols with feet of clay, because this modern world in the main produces only weak and self-centered men.

My own feet thus far have not turned clay, but I am amazed and angered and a little frightened by the number of people who seem to see me riding on a White Horse. I of all people know how terribly dangerous that idea is. I have no such steed and make claim to none, I have no magic wand, and I cannot accomplish a damned thing without the active, participatory help of every one of you.

For all practical purposes, the White man worldwide has no leadership, and has not had any since the murder of George Lincoln Rockwell in 1967. There are no actual organizations anywhere on the White racial right, only individual personalities, sometimes reaching the level of small mail-order businesses with a staff of two or three dogsbodies to fill book orders. The closest thing we have to an organization is still the National Alliance, but their public activity has all but ceased in the past three years as they have devoted themselves completely to selling books over the magical Internet.

William Pierce himself admitted in his October, 1996 NA Bulletin that the entire raison d'être of the NA was to sell books, and all NA activity is now geared towards selling books. They have virtually abandoned the printed word; the last stickers went a year ago and I understand they will not be re-printing "Who Rules America" in hard copy form once those run out. Pierce and the others have discovered the Great White Leader's dream implement, the computer--that versatile tool which allows them to function by interacting with words and machines rather than people.

I have been trying desperately to change this situation for the past four years and build the NSWPP up into a genuine organization. I have experienced only limited success, because this would demand intense personal participation from Party supporters and thereby incur some risk of public identification with National Socialism, at which point panic and paranoia sets in and they charge off like lemmings hurling themselves over the cliff.

But at least I TRY. The other Great White Leaders don't even try. They simply pretend to be organizations in order to shake the shekels out of the supporters, their financial livestock. (It is a long recognized Movement truism that the racist couch potatoes kick in more shekels if they think it's going to an organization; actually, all they're doing is supporting the work of one man, be it good or bad, and many of them realize it. They are in a sense paying for a fantasy, an illusion, and the GWLs provide it.)

Most Great White Leaders quickly learn to avoid any actual organization or formalized structure, because this involves delegating authority and allowing other people to have access to critical information such as mailing lists, correspondence, financial records, etc. which are the source of the Great White Leader's true power.

HOW OUR LEADERS BECOME CORRUPT

The personality of every Great White Leader, almost without exception, becomes corrupted through exposure to the Movement itself and the dysfunctional people in it. By the time the actual sellout occurs, the timbers of his soul have been rotten for a long time.

This process can take years, but it seems to be virtually inescapable. Eventually his objective ceases to be racial in nature and becomes personal and economic. The personal goal of almost all Great White Leaders becomes the same: to live without working. Aryan leadership becomes corrupt when, in the mind of the leader, the Movement ceases to be a sacred Cause, and becomes a business.

Of all the Great White leaders of the 1960s and 1970s, Dr. William L. Pierce of the National Alliance is the monarch and exemplar. Pierce is 65 years of age and aside from possibly waiting tables or some such while he was in college, Pierce has never worked a day in his life. From 1965 until the present day, he has lived off the donations and book orders of racially conscious White people. He presently resides on the 345 rolling acres of his West Virginia estate, where he thinks Great Thoughts and diverts himself with a series of Eastern European mail order brides brought to this country with his supporters' funds. His is the standard to which all the others aspire. Matt Koehl, James Warner, Thom Robb, Dan Gayman, and a dozen others are now living out their declining years in modestly comfortable circumstances, having spent their entire adult lives with their snouts in the Movement trough. This process whereby White leadership becomes hopelessly corrupted and compromised is instructive, and I will outline it for you.

YES, ME TOO

Ah, you say, but Harold--what about you? How is it that YOU have not been corrupted by all this?

The answer is simple. I HAVE been corrupted by it all to some degree. You can't spend 25 years playing with toxic waste without becoming contaminated to some degree. I have observed these telltale weaknesses in myself as well as in the others. The main difference between me and them is that I recognize these symptoms of Great White Leader syndrome in myself and consciously fight them, more or less successfully thus far, I think--but I still might turn into a Metzger or a Pierce if you folks won't help me stay on the straight and narrow. The others are so self-absorbed that they seem incapable of understanding what has happened to them and probably are genuinely unable to understand that they have been corrupted.

I don't doubt that at least some of their anger against me is genuine and that they honestly believe that my criticisms are false, although I suspect Pierce is capable of sufficient introspection to understand the process whereby he has become a traitor, possibly even deplore it in the privacy of his own thoughts. I hope so; I always admired his work. Robb, Metzger, Koehl, and the lesser mopes? Naaaah. They wouldn't recognize introspection if it walked up and belted them in the mouth.

IN THE BEGINNING, IDEALISM

I have never disputed that people like Thom Robb, Matt Koehl, Tom Metzger, William L. Pierce, and others were perfectly sincere when they first entered racial politics and were motivated only by the desire to solve the terrible historical problem with which we are faced and create a new and better world. If anyone has even a mediocre level of ability, political instinct, and organizational talent, they can rise in our Movement very rapidly indeed. The trick is simple: say out loud what White people think and believe in their hearts, and they will love you for it. Bingo! Congratulations, you are a "leader!"

But once you are a Great White Leader you run into two factors which begin the process of your moral and political corruption. First, there is that old bugaboo, EGO. People write you letters, send you e-mails, call you on the phone and come to your house, all telling you what a fine fellow you are, what a brilliant leader you are, how much they adore you because you say out loud that which they are afraid even to whisper. Like all celebritiess, our public personalities attract flatterers and ass-kissers, and since we are all products of twentieth century Judaic materialism, we have not been conditioned from birth to disdain flattery as did our real warrior and pioneer ancestors, to whom flattery was a sign of weakness and dishonesty.

When leaders hear all this stuff about how great they are for long enough, they start believing it. This is compounded if the leader is getting regular media attention. We have been conditioned all our lives to accept television as the ultimate reality and purveyor of truth and celebrity--and if you're constantly on television, and reporters are constantly calling you up and asking you what you think about things, you must be someone special, right? Above the common herd. A Man of Destiny, no less.

Since you are a Man of Destiny, you deserve special privileges. You are above the ordinary, run of the mill ethical considerations and obligations that constrain the little guys. Right? You want to tell a lie or pocket some money or stab somebody in the back, it's okay. You're a Man of Destiny, an übermensch, and it's all for a greater good. It is in fact your duty to tell that lie, steal that money, or betray that former friend. Right?

The first stage of corruption sets in: the Great White Leader comes to identify his own self-interest with the interests of the White racial struggle. He loses whatever prior sense of right and wrong he may have possessed. Like Louis XIV he decides that "L'etat, c'ést moi."

THE FATAL ATTRACTION

The second corrupting factor is money in the mail. One of the great ironies of the Movement is that the very source of life for us, the very wellspring which makes all racial activity possible, is also our greatest cancer.

When someone starts yelling nigger, other White people who have been thinking nigger all their lives but never dared to say it out loud love him for it. One day the newly-minted Great White Leader experiences an epiphany: he opens an envelope and something green and folding falls out. A little light bulb comes on over his head: "Hey, if I can get enough people sending me money in the mail, I won't have to hear that alarm clock go off every morning!"

Most of our Great White Leaders aren't much out in the real world. To be sure, Pierce has a physics doctorate, but he is an exception. Don't know what Thom Robb did before he was Exalted, but Virgil Griffin runs a gas station, Metzger repaired TVs, the Gerhard brothers were janitors, David Duke ran Amway style pyramid schemes, the Trochmanns have a ranch but apparently were living on welfare before the militia thing came along, James Mason was a petty slumlord living off rental property he inherited, and I have been everything from a professional soldier to a cab driver to a Dilbert clone in a cubicle. An amazing number of people involved in the Movement in leadership positions have never held any kind of gainful employment at all that anyone knows about.

You can understand why the discovery that people are willing to send these marginal, frustrated failures money in the mail for hollering nigger strikes many of them like a divine revelation. The lure of being able to do something you enjoy for a living, and do it at your own pace, without having to hear that alarm go off at five thirty in the morning and stumble around getting dressed in uncomfortable clothing, then driving through morning rush hour traffic to a job you hate, surrounded by people you despise--to the average Middle American, this is sheer nirvana, and to a real working stiff who has been subsisting on minimum wage labor jobs it becomes the Holy Grail. In a humanly understandable reaction, these men will do anything to achieve "full-time" Movement status, and they will then do anything--anything at all--to maintain that lifestyle and never have to obtain and hold down real job in the real world again. To be full-time Movement is to live the revolutionary fantasy, and it is exhilarating. They like it. I like it myself.

Before you say it, yes, I and the NSWPP depend on money coming in the mail as well; without it I'd still be a stock clerk in a nursing home like I was in 1977 before I became a Fearless Leader in my own right. The irony of the situation has not escaped me; again, what makes me different is I am aware of the addictive, corrupting effect of money in the mail and I actively set my mind to fight it off. Yet I feel its allure every day. I understand why these men do what they do--but that doesn't make it right.

THE RUBICON OF DISILLUSIONMENT

The final step in the corruption of the Great White leader comes when he loses his idealism, i.e. when he finally looks around himself and realizes with a shudder: "These people are never going to DO anything." It is here that he faces his Rubicon. He is about to give up---and yet he wants to maintain his reality-free lifestyle. The question is, how will he do it?

The Great White Leader has come to understand that Middle Americans are not Vikings or frontiersmen. He has come to internalize the knowledge that the people on his mailing list are not the steely-eyed veterans of Verdun and Passchendaele who wore the brown shirt of the SA, nor are they the Confederate army veterans who rode with Forrest and the Klan. He has come to grips with the fact that his mailing list consists mostly of middle-aged men with big bellies and elderly conservatives who send him money so that he will continue to entertain them by crying nigger and by speaking out loud the hate which is in their hearts but which they dare not speak themselves. The GWL now knows that these people have not the remotest intention of doing anything that will incur any personal risk on their part, and that if they are backed into a corner they will turn on him and disavow him so fast it will make his head spin, anything to save their jobs and material lifestyle.

The Great White Leader has also come to understand that of the younger people on his mailing list, a small handful have genuine potential and desperately need to be taken in hand, guided and instructed and mentored and motivated--and that a larger number have been so badly mentally and emotionally damaged by the filthy society they grew up in that they are dangerous to themselves and others. In short, there will be no revolution, at least not of the kind that will carry him into the White House on the shoulders of a mob shouting "Heil Jones!" or whatever his particular fantasy is. Let me tell you something, people: every Great White Leader reaches this stage, at some point in his career, and every Great White Leader articulates this situation in his own mind more or less as I have stated above. Matt Koehl went through this. William Pierce went through this. Tom Metzger went through this. Thom Robb went through this. I went through it. Everyone does. The only thing exceptional about me is that I will discuss these things in public, with you.

These other men will not, and the fact that I say in public what they dare not utter about our "trade" is one reason why, among other things, there is now a special website run by the National Alliance for the sole and express purpose of libeling and defaming me.

You give up trying to change the world and substitute racist psychobabble for serious propaganda and political work in the real world with real people. You run away from the real world both physically and politically, going off to some isolated locality where you can breathe fresh country air, think Great Thoughts, and watch that money roll into the post office box down in the little nearby town.

But once the rolling acres and the mail-order empire have been achieved, once the Great White Leader has reached the top of the Movement heap, he cannot simply rest on his laurels. Like Pierce, like Metzger, there is no comfortable retirement for him. He must spend the rest of his life fighting off threats to his secluded, comfortable lifestyle. Threats from guys like me who point out in public that the emperor has no clothes, but even more threats from within his own sect from the younger ones who haven't yet lost their idealism and who keep on demanding that the Great White Leader DO something to justify the money sent to his post office box.

That's the problem with pretending to be an organization instead of admitting you're just a mail order book and video company--these pesky idealists who don't get it keep demanding that you DO things, rock the boat in ways that might make the government angry enough to step on you.

So you look for ways to divert people away from the fact that you're just sitting up on your mountain clipping coupons and waiting for those checks in your mail---and that's all you ever have any intention of doing. And one of the ways you can divert your people's attention away from that fact is to dissipate their efforts against "soft targets", get them involved in harmless make-work like writing letters to the editor, have a few pointless meetings in rented motel banquet rooms--and sic them on those who dare to criticize and express their skepticism openly. Like Horrible Harold, for instance.

Then the Feds come to you and start making demands, or else they'll start rattling your cage and take away your retirement estate, throwing you out on the street at age 65--and you cut whatever deal they demand, terrified that you will lose it all. And if a Federal building ends up getting blown up and 168 people killed, you cringe and hang on for dear life, hoping it will all just somehow go away....

CAN ANYTHING BE DONE?

Yes, it can be done. But you have to do it. I can't do it for you.

1. RECOVER YOUR COURAGE. We have no leaders in part because we have no followers. No real leader is going to waste his time on cowards and poltroons who run for cover at the first breath of heat.

You are of Aryan blood, and valor is part of your genetic makeup, no matter how deeply it has been buried by a lifetime of Judaic conditioning and intimidation. Look into your heart, and make the decision that from this day on you will no longer allow fear to rule your life. To allow fear to rule your life is to disgrace yourself, to be far less than a man, and I want every one of you to stop disgracing yourselves and our Folk.

Make the deliberate, conscious decision that your self-respect and your racial duty are more important than your job, your salary, your standing in a community of stupid sheep--and if necessary, your duty and your honor are more important than your relationship with some brainwashed, spiritually dead woman who views you as a meal ticket and nothing more. There are more important things in life than money, material things, and occasional sexual gratification which you must buy with your soul. Our ancestors understood that the things of the spirit matter far, far more than things of the body. We as a race must recover that ideal.

2. DO NOT TOLERATE BETRAYAL. Any people who allow themselves to be publicly represented by yellow dogs who make deals with Morris Dees, do real estate and book transactions with Jews, file lawsuits against those who criticize them, commit acts of petty vandalism and defecate on doorsteps--such a people are yellow dogs themselves. Aryans are not dogs, and we will no longer tolerate dogs as our leaders.

We must establish a bottom line below which any person who claims to represent the Aryan race in a leadership capacity is not allowed to sink, and enforce the strictest penalties of financial, political, and personal boycott and ostracism against those who do.

3. DO NOT TOLERATE MEDIOCRITY. Until we begin demanding only the best from our political and racial leaders, we will continue to get only mediocrity. We get constant mediocrity because we have demonstrated, time and again, that we will allow it to flourish.

This has to stop. You have the power to turn this Movement around, the only power that affects these idiots' behavior--the power of the purse. Do not subsidize mediocrity, inaction, or Great White Leaders' private retirement estates. Patronize legitimate book dealers only, men who admit that they are book dealers, rather than Great White Leaders selling books while pretending to be revolutionary organizations. It is time to end the pernicious practice of soliciting money for Aryan revolution and then using it to pay mortgages on large rural estates or legal judgments to Morris Dees.

4. LIVE IN THE REAL WORLD. A group needs a headquarters. I agree, we needed one as well. Fine, set up a headquarters--down here in the urban lowlands, accessible by interstate and a short run to a major airport, not high on a mountaintop so the leader can hide from people.

Do not tolerate any leader who attempts to flee into the hinterlands and sell you books and toys by mail; the revolution will be fought and won where the people are. Wherever feasible, demand that the leader obtain and hold a job. I myself have been full time for fifteen months now, and to be frank I wouldn't mind going back to work myself; I understand I need that contact with the real world. That very subject will be on the Party's agenda shortly. Isolation from the real world where people live and work and have to pay bills and raise kids can warp a leader's outlook and make him go funny in the head, and I don't want that happening to me.

5. KILL YOUR EGO. Stamp it out. Eradicate it. Surrender forever any idea that you will ever get anything out of the Movement; spend the rest of your life seeking new ways to put something into it. Corny as it sounds, people, I am dead serious about what I am about to say, and it is based on 25 years of experience:

The people who get in trouble in this Movement are those--far too many--who enter into this with personal agendas. They crash and burn in a hundred different ways. God will not allow this most holy and sacred cause to be used to advance a personal agenda. On the other hand, it has been my observation that those who enter into this service with a genuinely pure and open heart, selflessly and without a thought for their own egos or their own advantage--those people are sustained and they come through it all by and large unharmed.

The most shining example we have is that of the late Robert Miles: study his life and work and you will understand. It's kind of a Zen thing--like Kane in the Kung Fu television series, we must sacrifice the body to the spirit and "walk the earth". Until it is ours again.

Paula Hitler had this to say, after the war, about her brother Adolf Hitler:

die Schwester Adolf Hitlers, schrieb diese Zeilen wenige Jahre nach Kriegsende.