Classic EssaysRevilo P. Oliver

The Making of Presidents

lech-walesa0_1_1467669aby Revilo P. Oliver

ONE SEES from time to time in the press muted reports that all is not well in Poland. There have even been photographs of shipyards and factories that have been closed since the beatitude of “democracy” was bestowed on that unhappy land. One has to infer that the Americans’ magic nostrum, “free elections,” plus massive largesse exacted from the taxpaying animals in the United States and huge “loans” from international bankers to augment the forty billion dollars on which they are now collecting usury from the Poles, have not produced felicity.

The press admits there is ever increasing discontent with the “democratic” regime, so it would appear that the Poles (as distinct from aliens in their midst) are ceasing to revere Lech Walesa (pictured), who holds in Poland a position, that is, for all practical purposes, the equivalent of Lord Bushy’s in this country. I am told that letters from Poland indicate that Poles of all social strata are beginning to curse their erstwhile hero and savior, while his “Solidarity” party has dwindled to less than 20% of its former membership.

Walesa’s popularity was not restored by his recent announcement that Poland must purge herself of the awful sin of “anti-Semitism.” He was, of course, using the word in the catachrestic sense the Jews and their journalistic dogs have imposed on unthinking Americans. That nonsensical term for antipathy to Yids has become even more ridiculous, now that events in the Near and Middle East have made it obvious that God’s Race hate Semites almost as much as they hate Aryans. Walesa’s announcement, however, was only what was to be expected.

Americans should have had no illusions about Walesa from the first. Our poison-pen press tried to make him a hero, printed encomia of his “courage” in “confronting” the Soviet Monster, and extolled his “devotion” to “the workers” and “democracy.” It should have been obvious that if he had been really regarded as an adversary by the Judaeo-Communist rulers, Americans would never have heard of him: he would have disappeared before journalists learned how to spell his name.

It is a safe rule that anyone who is a pet of the American press must be in some way an enemy of the American people. And to make that application of the rule conclusive, we were treated to a photograph of David Rockefeller with his fatherly arm enfolding Walesa, whose stolidly puzzled expression showed that he was wondering what the hugging was all about.

Even with this caveat, however, Americans in general attribute to Walesa “outstanding” qualities of “leadership” and political sagacity. Even if they are cynical about his professed “ideals” and championship of the workers, they reason that it must have required something close to genius for a man to transport himself in a few years from a miserable two-room apartment, in which he lived with his wife and six children, to a palatial abode with flunkies to serve him and a virtually dictatorial dominion over forty million people.

That is what the average American would tell you, because he has not yet learned how presidents are manufactured.

I have received a copy of a Polish periodical in English entitled Common European Home (P.O. Box ? [number unstated], Rockville, Connecticut; 06060). The issue dated March-June 1990 contains an article that describes Walesa and his career as known to Poles who have been close to him.

Walesa is an ignorant man who has never read a book and admits that he detests reading. He cannot compose a coherent and grammatical letter, not even a short one. He is an intellectual nullity. He could never hold a responsible job, not even the lowest: he “could never have qualified as a doorman.”

“Impossible!” you say? After all, this man became the symbol of Polish resistance to Communism. He was awarded the Nobel Prize for “Peace” in 1983. He was the hero of the largest and most powerful non-governmental organization in Poland, the Committee to Defend the Workers, of which the leaders were all former Communists — at least they said they were “former.” But what is more, he was enthusiastically endorsed by educated and presumably patriotic men.

According to one of the authors of the composite article, “the Polish underground was the largest in the history of mankind,” if measured by the number and distribution of its publications. Typical, we are told, was “NOWA” (the meaning of the acronym is not stated). It was “an enterprise employing over 200 editors, an uncountable number of writers, printers, and bookkeepers. NOWA [also] produced audiotapes. It paid all its employees salaries above the commie norms.” Now, even if there is some magnification in his account, many of the editors and writers, at least, must have been men (and perhaps women) of some education and some knowledge of the world. But nevertheless, “Walesa became their long-awaited symbol.”

That will seem inexplicable until you learn that Walesa was a protege of a gang of seven influential Jews, (1) and that the many loud voices in Europe that insisted that Walesa was a blend of St. George (who slew the dragon) and St. Francis (who loved everybody, even birds) belonged to prominent Sheenies. Walesa, furthermore, was a pal of the Jewish weasel (in German and Yiddish, Wiesel), perhaps the most vociferous Holohoaxer, and he has filled his cabinet with members of the Holy Race.

(1. The writer names them: Adam Michnik (n‚ Szechter), Professor B. Geremek (n‚ Bujak), Professor Jan Lipski, Jacek Kuron, Jan Gross, Seweryn Blumsztejin, and Barbara Torunczyk. As censer-swingers, especially named are Merek Edelman, M.D., Andrejei Wajda (cinema director and mogul), and Yaclav Havel (Bohemian playwright).

Walesa, to be sure, has gained in stature since he became a “leader”: he weighed 139 pounds and now weighs about 200. But when he was in the United States to lecture the Congress in Washington, he snubbed ordinary Poles in this country, and duly reported to a meeting of eighty mighty Yids in the city that should be called New Jerusalem-on-the-Hudson. And, needless to say, Walesa has always been a puppet, doing and saying what his trainers commanded. He is, as the author concludes, “a stooge and a traitor to his own kind.”

Now you understand how it all happened, don’t you? And you have done more than learn about Walesa in Poland: you have learned how presidents are made in all nations that are blessed with “democracy,” especially those that belonged to Western civilization and our race.

Since we have been speaking of Poland, let us not forget Poland’s greatest poet, Count Zygmunt (= Sigismund) Krasinski (1812-1859), and his brilliant Undivine Comedy (Nieboska komedja) of which there is an English translation by Harrietta E. Kennedy and Zofia Uminska. (2)

(2. I have used a rare edition, printed in Warsaw for distribution in England. I have an impression that it was reprinted in England and then again, during the past thirty years or so, in a volume that also contained translations of some of Krasinski’s other works, but if so, I failed to record it in my notes. The Undivine Comedy was adapted by Earl Lytton (the first Viceroy of India and son of the Baron Bulwer-Lytton who wrote The Last Days of Pompei, etc.), who used the pseudonym Owen Meredith for his literary works, in his Orval, the Fool of Time (1868), but his adaptation is too free to be taken as a guide to the original.)

The principal theme of the dramatic poem is not political. Its tragedy is the tragedy of Nordic man, whose Faustian soul (to use the Spenglerian term) by its unique racial instinct seeks the infinite and the eternal, fatally combining its romantic aspirations, which can never be content with a world too petty and banal to contain his dreams, with a lucidity and implacably rational intellect that demands knowledge of reality at all costs, which has driven him to the bitter discovery that he is an insignificant animalcule perched on a particle of dust that revolves around a small and decaying star which is itself a mere particle in a universe too vast and too horrible for comprehension. (3)

(3. Have you ever wondered how life on earth would appear today if our race and the genetic strain in it represented by the ancient Greeks and then by the Germanic peoples had never existed? The only two other races capable of civilization are the Semites and the Mongolians, and one or both of them might eventually have discovered the Western Hemisphere and gone on to the necessary conclusion that the earth is a spheroid, but if they had, that sphere would now lie at the very center of a cozy little universe, surrounded by clouds and, not far above them, a brilliant orb that was certainly a great god, and, visible at night, vagrant sparks of light, probably lesser gods or angels appointed by the gods to survey the world and observe the conduct of men.)

In the third part of the poem, however, the protagonist becomes Count Henry, who with his loyal retainers goes to the aid of the aristocrats, who are besieged in the fortress of the Holy Trinity by a huge mob of proletarians, incited, armed, and subsidized by the Jews, who have long plotted to destroy Christianity and the Aryan civilization that it represented. (4) Under the command of Count Henry, the symbolically named castle is valiantly defended and several attacks are repulsed, but Count Henry has also to master the weaklings among the aristocrats, who foolishly imagine they can negotiate with the horde that the Jews have made ferocious and bloodthirsty. Supplies of food and armaments are eventually exhausted, and the Bloody Horde prevails. The castle is taken; Count Henry leaps to his death from the battlements; and the surviving members of the aristocracy are butchered by the exulting rabble. And the terminal scene of the tragedy ends when the leader of the revolution echoes the dying words of the Emperor Julian: Galilaee, vicisti.

(4. Krasinski’s perspicacity is shown by his protagonist’s perception that the real danger came from “baptized Jews,” i.e., Marranos, who feign conversion to the civilization of the people on whom they prey and whom they hate with an insatiable malevolence.)

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Source: Liberty Bell magazine, September 1991

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