The Organizational Strategy
by Dr. William L. Pierce
HERE WE ARE, losing battle after battle while we hope desperately that we will in the end, somehow, be able to win the war, if we can just do the right things.
What are the right things for us to do?
Well, we must understand where we are, where we have been, and where we want to go; we must formulate that understanding into as clear and cogent a message as possible and adapt the message to every feasible medium; and we must then propagate the message effectively enough to reach every person to whom it is relevant.
These are the things being done now by the National Alliance and a few other — pitifully few — individuals and groups. These are absolutely necessary things, and if we were dealing with rational individuals, they would be sufficient for our purpose.
The great majority of our people are not rational, however, nor do they function primarily as individuals, and so more is required than merely reaching them with our message. Most people function much more as members of groups or as elements in a social milieu than they do as individuals, and we must deal with them in this group or organizational context in order to be effective on a large scale.
For the sake of concreteness: There are history professors who are quite capable of understanding our message — through their own studies they have learned all the facts we have learned and are quite bright enough to interpret them correctly — but they operate within a milieu which makes understanding dangerous and frightening to them. If they want to publish papers and advance their careers, they must conform their theses and their conclusions to the prejudices of their peers who edit the professional journals. If they want to be secure in their employment, they must conform what they teach in their classes to what their department heads and their deans consider Politically Correct. And if they want to keep their wives happy and be invited to the faculty parties, they must be careful what they say even in private to their closest friends, lest they violate the Great Taboo. A few of the more courageous and independent-minded professors may eschew the parties, keep Politically Incorrect books in their private libraries, and speak more or less freely with trusted intimates, but most will be so terrified of being unfashionable that they will censor even their own innermost thoughts.
Likewise, there are intelligent and perceptive policemen who are exposed daily to the grimmest consequences of the government’s racial, immigration, and welfare policies. Some of them are appalled by these policies and will go so far as to discuss the destructiveness of the government with their colleagues. Nearly all of them, however, will continue to enforce the government’s laws for 40 hours each week. It is their job, and they need their paychecks.
These social and organizational constraints are not new. They are inherent in our society, and to some degree in every society. Things may be a bit more highly organized and centralized today than they were 50 or 100 years ago, but the real difference is simply that the policies have changed: policy-making is much more in the hands of the fashion-setters today than it was in the past, and the latter are more Jewish.
What this means is that disseminating our message to individuals can have only limited results. Only those individuals who are relatively rational and relatively free of organizational constraints will respond positively.
How many of these are there in our society? It’s difficult to be precise, but probably not more than two or three per cent of the White population are sufficiently free to examine our message rationally and then to act on their reason. It is essential to reach these people, of course. It also is essential to reach the great majority who are not capable of responding positively to any unfashionable message: it is essential to reach them and to saturate them with facts and ideas, even though we know that their only reaction at this time will be fear and hostility.
As mentioned above, however, this is not enough. It is necessary to do more. It is necessary to address the organizational aspects of our war. In order to win, we must be able to manipulate at least some of the organizational constraints under which most people function.
Which is the better strategy for changing the way history is taught: to attempt to persuade each of thousands of professors that he should try to find courage and respect for truth, neither of which he has previously manifested, and defy the policy-makers of his profession — or to replace a few dozen policy-makers?
Which is the better way for changing the government’s police apparatus from a force for evil into a force for good: to attempt to make each policeman individually do that which is contrary to his nature by rebelling against his appointed superiors — or to change the interests and loyalties of a relative handful of superiors?
The answers depend on the details. If the history department heads, journal editors, and police chiefs are all Jews, and the rank-and-file professors and cops are mostly our people, then only the first approach has any merit. This is the case with most of the mass media, for example, where there is no chance at all of changing the interests of the fashion-setters. Fortunately, among professors and cops the people at the top are far more open to persuasion. Even where substantial headway can be made at the top of a group, however, it remains necessary to saturate those at the bottom with our message: if professors discover one fine morning that it has become permissible for them to sing a new tune in class, they must at least be familiar with the new lyrics.
The degree of centralization of authority in a group is an important factor in the dynamics of change: the more highly centralized an organization, the greater the leverage which can be had by persuading a policy-maker — but also the closer to the top one must get in order for the leverage to be effective. The Army is an example of a highly centralized organization, where in theory all policy comes from the commander in chief; in practice, however, a few highly placed command personnel working together may be able to cut the chain of command above themselves. The Army also is an example of an organization in which the only possibility for redirection lies at or near the top.
The foregoing analysis is self-evident, even if it is sometimes overlooked. Less evident are the specific ways in which we should address the organizational aspects of our problem. How do we begin to gain effective organizational leverage while continuing to build the means for disseminating our basic message to the rank and file of our people everywhere?
Let’s look at a few general truths which should guide any organizational approach.
First, any alternative presented to policy-makers must be self-evidently viable. Policy-makers are a bit more intelligent and substantially better endowed with self-discipline than the rank and file, but they are not notably more courageous or less superstitious. In fact, they are more often terrified by the thought of being unfashionable than are their organizational inferiors, because they have more to lose. This means that our alternative must be one which already has been pounded into their consciousness — and the consciousness of the rank and file as well — until they are sufficiently familiar with it that they can at least be persuaded that it could become the new fashion.
When the New World Order policy of “free” trade was being hotly debated a few months ago — debated even though it already had been declared de rigueur by the fashion-setters — its vocal opponents in the Congress drew their courage from their knowledge that many of their constituents actively opposed the policy. Had there not been strong grass-roots opposition to NAFTA, based on the understanding by ordinary workers that it meant exporting their jobs to Mexico, the legislators would have found neither the courage nor the sense of responsibility to oppose it on their own. As it was, opposition to “free” trade seemed that it might be a viable alternative to the fashion insisted on by the New World Order crowd, even though the latter eventually prevailed.
Second, anyone who wants policy-makers to switch brands must be prepared to offer compensation. Policy-makers are at least as selfish and materialistic as the masses. Any plan which counts on their being persuaded to take actions which are both unfashionable and self-sacrificing is certain to fail.
Every lobbyist understands this. He does not try to persuade a legislator that a particular policy is right; he tries instead to show that it is in the legislator’s personal interest to support the policy. Of course, it usually is money which talks in such matters. Many policy-makers have other than monetary interests, however. Some even have the foresight to understand that the policies they have been supporting will not continue to be tenable in the long run. Others are susceptible to being persuaded of this, especially as the disastrous effects of current policies become more manifest. In each case what is needed is a credible argument that a policy-maker, whether he be a university dean or a general in the Pentagon, can better his personal position in the long run by backing a new policy which happens to be unfashionable at the moment.
Usually the current power structure has the advantage in handing out carrots to reward policy-makers for falling in line with current fashion. The recent effort by the Clintonistas to push “free” trade and the “assault rifle” ban through the Congress provided dozens of examples of the buying of policy switches with government money: a brother-in-law given a sinecure on a trade “advisory panel” in return for a “yes” vote on NAFTA; a promise of a contract to build 300 midnight basketball courts in a Congressman’s district in return for backing the “crime” bill. The labor unions and the National Rifle Association just didn’t have as many carrots.
As the moral authority and prestige of the government continue to decline along with its organizational effectiveness, however, the government’s carrots will lose some of their lustre and credibility. Bill Clinton is doing a great service for the American people in this regard. And as government prestige declines, so does the prestige of other organizations supporting the same policies.
Third, the carrot should be accompanied by a credible stick. A policy-maker should be made to believe that the danger to himself in sticking with the old fashion is greater than the danger in switching to the new. Probably not too much should be said about this aspect of organizational work, except to note that as the power to reward grows, so does the power to punish.
The above considerations, applied to formal organizational structures such as university administrations and armies, may seem more theoretical than practical at this time. About all that we can really do now, relevant to these general guidelines, is continue building the means to disseminate our message more widely and more effectively.
What applies to formal structures in this regard also applies to informal structures, however, and some of them may be more accessible. An informal structure exists wherever there is a policy-maker or fashion-setter and a group of people who follow his policy or adopt his fashion: a popular but independent church minister and his congregation, a media idol or rock star and his or her fans, even a very successful and popular businessman/”society” leader in a community and his following of yuppies who also want to be rich and popular. All that is required is a bond between policy-maker and followers which is stronger than, or at least not much weaker than, that between the followers and other guides to belief and behavior in their lives.
Whether one is dealing with a formal, highly centralized structure or a very loose and informal organization, the goal is leverage. Instead of focusing all of his efforts on persuading the rank and file to change their policies, the good strategist may direct a portion of his effort toward the established policy-makers.
An excellent example of the application of this principle is provided by the Jews’ neutralization of the mainline Christian churches after the Second World War. To be sure, the Christian churches hadn’t been a real impediment to the Jews since the Spanish Inquisition went into retirement. Even before the war many Christian leaders were making a career out of playing up to the Jews, and members of the more primitive Protestant sects were practically worshipping them, as “God’s Chosen People.” Nevertheless, there were annoying clashes occasionally, as Christians reacted negatively to Jewish efforts to commercialize sex in films, or as some latter-day crusader railed against Jewish promotion of the White-slave trade.
There were even cases of Christian leaders speaking out against Jewish subversion of American economic and political affairs: an example was Father Charles Coughlin, whose immensely popular radio broadcasts in the 1930s exposing the leading Jewish role in Communism were a major headache for Jews. Eventually the Roman Catholic hierarchy ordered Coughlin to hold his tongue, but it was not soon enough for the Jews, and they decided to eliminate the possibility of any more cannons breaking loose on Christian decks.
The Jews did not accomplish this solely by attempting to persuade the Christian masses that Jews were above all criticism — although their postwar “Holocaust” propaganda certainly helped in that regard. More to the point, they did not neutralize Christendom primarily by attacking Christian leaders or Christian doctrine, or by attempting to persuade individual Christians to abjure their religious beliefs. Instead the Jews directed their principal effort toward Christian policy-makers: pontiffs, theologians, leading radio evangelists, and the politician-buinessman-bureaucrat hybrids who had risen to the top of the various Protestant denominations.
The Jews gave them propositions they couldn’t refuse: in part because the Christian leadership already was morally debilitated to a large degree, in part because the carrots and sticks held out to them were impressive, and in part because the alternative fashion offered — Jews can do no wrong and must never be criticized or held accountable — already was implicit in much of what Christians accepted as holy writ. (In Deuteronomy 28, for example, one reads of the covenant between the Jews and their god: “The Lord thy God will set thee on high above all the goyim. . . . The Lord will establish thee an Holy People unto himself . . . and the goyim . . . shall be afraid of thee.”) It was a manifestly viable alternative to the old Christian fashion Jews wanted buried: namely, the fashion according to which Jews rejected the salvation offered by Jesus and then killed him, and so are forever a race of outsiders who should be regarded with distrust.
Among the carrots offered were expense-paid trips to the “Holy Land” (after 1948), noisily publicized B’nai B’rith awards for “brotherhood,” and favorable media treatment. The media carrot could give a semi-literate, fifth-rate Christian pamphleteer with a drinking problem the public image of a modern-day Thomas Aquinas, if he took the desired positions on matters of interest to the Jews.
A very credible stick was a guarantee of problems with a church’s tax exemption.
The strategy was resoundingly successful. With a little prodding, leading Catholic and Protestant theologians began re-examining the sacred writings of their churches, and, lo! — the scales fell from their eyes! The Jews hadn’t been responsible for the death of Jesus after all, they suddenly realized. It was the Romans, not the Jews, who had done it, they proclaimed, despite the unanimous account given by the Gospels. Actually, there was a little disagreement on the verdict for a while, with the more literal-minded theologians putting the blame solely on the Romans and the modernist theologians saying instead, “No, we are all guilty,” but on one thing the theologians were in complete agreement: the poor, long-suffering, inoffensive Jews were merely innocent bystanders and must not be blamed at all.
The Catholic Pope announced that Christians who held to the old fashion and continued to regard the Jews as Christ-killers were guilty of a grave sin, while the pooh-bahs of the largest U.S. Lutheran grouping (the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) ritually excommunicated the founder of their own church, because four centuries earlier he had written that the Blameless Ones not only hated Christ but that they also had an inborn hatred of all mankind, coupled with a deceitfulness which made them so dangerous that they ought not to be tolerated in civilized society.
From the shepherds the word on the new policy toward the Jews went down to all of the Christian sheep, and the dissent was minimal. Of course, not all Catholics were pleased with the transformation of their church’s doctrines and practices (not just its policy toward Jews) effected by the Second Vatican Council in the early 1960s, and a few schismatics were heard rumbling in the background for a decade or more. Likewise, there were a few excessively independent Protestants who failed to fall into line immediately: one Southern Baptist potentate as late as the 1970s announced, in accord with the doctrine his church always had accepted, that Jews, as non-believers, could not be admitted into the Christian heaven. Needless to say, his colleagues fell on him like a ton of bricks for this bit of “Juden ‘raus” theology, and soon he was back-pedaling as fast as he could.
Today the conquest is virtually complete. A few years ago some backward Christians protested the profane image of their savior presented by Hollywood in The Last Temptation of Christ, but their protest was considered very unfashionable by the Christian establishment, and the veiled hints of “anti-Semitism” detected in some of the statements of the protesters were roundly denounced. Now Jews produce film after film which blatantly mocks the beliefs of Christian viewers: not only is there no protest, but the viewers laugh on cue.
If instead of first subverting the leaders of Christendom the Jews had tried during the 1940s and 1950s to wean rank-and-file Christians away from their faith through similar mockery, there would have been a reaction from Christian leaders and laymen alike which would have made the hundreds of thousands of “Holocaust survivors” in America yearn for the good, old days under Hitler.
The organizational strategy has been an appropriate one for the Jews, and it is equally appropriate for any group whose members constitute only a small minority of the population they want to persuade, and so need the advantage of leverage in order to accomplish their task.
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Source: National Alliance