The Total Collapse of America’s Anglo-Saxon Ruling Class, part 4: The Carers
As our world implodes, what can be done by caring White men and women?
by Cholly Bilderberger
THE PRECEDING COLUMN dealt with the situation in America and ended with this sentence: “In the next, and last, column in this series, I shall outline my notion of what any American who is not merely produce-and-consume meat (I take it on faith that some must exist) can do both before and after the collapse — not to avert it, because that is impossible (nor to delay it, because that is undesirable), but to flow with it and overcome it by accepting it.”
My advice to such a person — particularly to such a young person — would run somewhat as follows: Acceptance of the collapse is the key not only to personal psychological and spiritual wellbeing, but also to possible action. As noted in the previous column, the collapse of the American system has already taken place to some degree. It is continuing at a rapid pace, and it will become formal at some point in the future, all going more or less as Yeats described it many years ago: “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.”
The collapse will be seen as a disaster by most people, abroad as well as at home, but that is a limited point of view. Actually, it is as organic as any other natural function, and simply the last act in a birth-maturity-death cycle. When a state is dying, one dies with it only to the extent that one is psychologically and spiritually a part of it. (Physical death is another matter, naturally.) Those who are a part of it — the vast majority — will perish with it. Those who are not — the tiny minority — will not, and some of them will survive as carriers of life. The only disaster, once the state is dying, would be prolongation by some artificial means of support.
Carriers of life bring to mind the obvious analogy of the Dark Ages, when Western culture was preserved and handed on by a few monks. They were not the only inhabitants of Europe, but the rest were either barbarians or had gone down psychologically with the Roman Empire. Something of the kind will happen — is happening — in America. Our present Dark Ages still has some movement and physical comfort, but it is nevertheless well begun. (Instauration would not have come into existence otherwise.)
Now a carrier of life is not a person brought into being by “wishing.” One either is or one is not. And in a collapsed society, a carrier of life may follow any of several paths, ranging from suicide to action. Jesus Christ actually combined the two.) How does one know whether one is or is not a carrier of life? A rough yardstick is whether one cares or not — about self first, then family, then others of a like persuasion. If one cares about self, there are certain things one cannot bring oneself to do: to wallow in minority propaganda (this rules out watching commercial television, reading most modern books and magazines and seeing most motion pictures); to live in terms of produce-and-consume; to take anything in contemporary American life seriously … the list is endless and obvious. If one cares about family, there are certain things one cannot allow: one’s wife to be exposed to minority coarseness and to brutality, or to Majority produce-and-consume mindlessness; one’s children to set foot in American schools (the reasons in black-dominated public schools are obvious, but even the best public schools and private schools are not fit places for children because of the degraded standards in education, ethics, behavior and purpose … again, the list is obvious and endless). If enough men and women did care about self and family, the country would fall in on itself tomorrow — with television no longer profitable, produce-and-consume inoperable and the schools empty, there wouldn’t be much left. That these things don’t happen only means that not enough people care.
Assuming that one does care, should one immediately pull one’s children out of school and all the rest? Not necessarily. The person who cares — the carer — should first understand what should be done, and secondly decide what he or she can afford to do. There is no point in taking children out of school unless one has a place to put them. A rich man can take his children to schools abroad or hire tutors or teach them himself on a sequestered property. A man who has to have a job can do only what he is free to do. If he and his wife care enough and are suited to some occupation relatively removed from bureaucratic authority – forestry, or farming — he can probably find some way to protect himself and his family while still making a living. If he can’t escape, he will have to stick it out and make compromises. Until or unless he is forced to the breaking point, and decides that they are all better off dead than living under such circumstances — in which case he can do away with himself and his family, the ancient solution of the warrior who couldn’t stand to see himself and them survive in slavery to the enemy. We often read of such debacles in contemporary America: the fathers — and mothers — may well have reached such a conclusion, however subconsciously.
At any rate, there are as many ways for a carer to act as there are carers. And each way is subdivided into degrees of caring and commitment. People of like persuasions tend to gather together, however, and those who care in the same way may start to join together, to act in concert, to submerge their individual differences into general programs, and eventually a religion. In fact, since all religions start from caring, it may well be that the religion will precede the general programs. But — and this is crucial — individual caring must precede such programs. We must prove ourselves to ourselves before we can prove ourselves to others, and before we can join with them in taking action. (The Declaration of Independence did not precede a new type of man; it happened the other way around.) Also, action on specific problems will follow the joining of those who care as surely as day follows night. There is no need at this point to fret about what will be done; it will all happen in good time if enough people care, just as Tours and Bosworth Field and Yorktown did. And if enough people don’t care, there may be a certain amount of rhetoric and white sheets, but nothing at all will really happen.
Once a carer knows he’s a carer, he should immediately start to take care of himself. He is a minority of one, standing against the system, and anyone who is a member of that system — including father, brother, best friend, even wife and children — will sacrifice him in an instant if he should stand in their way. He is in danger because he is change personified, and all change is called Hitlerian or worse. His motto is James Joyce’s: silence, exile and cunning. He does not rush out to convert, because he has too much respect for the depth and importance of his position to throw it away in idle argument. He is aware, for instance, that what is happening in the American collapse is an unprecedented crisis in human affairs. Recorded human history does not give a comparable example. This is the end of five thousand years of produce-and-consume, a wrenching denouement to which certain events as the Depression and World War II are not comparable. It is beyond casual discussion. For that reason, he keeps his mouth shut and waits for a sign from another that he/she also cares. Then and only then — and with great delicacy — will he match hint with hint, never putting himself in a position where he has committed more than another. If it is his lot to find no other human being in his lifetime who cares as he does, he is willing to accept that rather than to settle for a relationship with a non-carer.
The carer is Nietzschean rather than Christian, and has no sympathy for his deadly enemies, the non-carers, despite their pathos. He wouldn’t lift a finger to save them if he could, and watches them perish without a qualm. Also, like Nietzsche, he is not disturbed in the least by what the non-carers call horrible thoughts, but he welcomes them — the more horrible the better — as a sign that he is healthy and functioning. He is not in the least ashamed of his alienation, but wears it as a private badge of sanity. (To be “adjusted” to this society — the aim of all psychology and psychiatry and Christian do-goodness seems ludicrous and unhealthy to him as well as immoral.) He hates as naturally as he loves, because he is healthy, and he can’t be deceived by nonsense about being “hostile.” Nor is he deceived by those who would tell him that he should be “involved.” He doesn’t vote, take part in any “community” activity or even think about such compulsive movement because he knows there is no democratic solution to the problem. Nor does he join with the left or the right or the hippies. To him they are all non-carers and thus all the same. (This is not to say that carers can’t come from any background — just that they have to give up that background before they can care.)
He cannot be blackmailed by, “What would happen if everyone quit on the system?”, which is not an expression of real concern but a coded way of saying, “I’m terrified of losing my stock shares and I want everyone to join me in that terror so that I will be able to go on enjoying them.” The carer knows that if caring and produce-and-consume are incompatible, he will give up produce-and-consume.
Nor can he be blackmailed by talk of external enemies and Russian takeovers. He knows that the enemy is first in ourselves and then in each other. The Russian takeover that we have to fear is not the one in the future, when we lie militarily helpless, but the one which took place years ago. Since 1945, we have been unable to settle anything among ourselves because of fear of the Russians. Everything has drifted, undone, and so the fear has contributed to our paralysis and collapse. If we really meant “Better dead than Red,” we would not be afraid, and never would have been terrified into accepting minority domination and all the rest of our self-induced cowardices in order to hang onto the produce-and-consume and the bombs. The effort has annihilated us psychologically and spiritually. The carer would really rather be dead than Red — or a produce-and-consume zombie watching Don Rickles — and isn’t afraid to prove it.
As a final irony, the carer may be called non-serious by those who seem the least serious to him. But he won’t defend himself or argue the point, no matter the provocation, because he sees argument with inferiors — non-carers, minorities, et al. — as a waste of time.
He is not glum, but very good-humored, and makes himself as comfortable as possible. He is fatalistic about what he cannot change — practically everything outside himself, at this point. He sees comedy in the American situation, and takes pleasure in imagining, for instance, the exquisite agonies of the non-carers — Elliot Richardson, for example, having to spend the evening with Frank Sinatra; or Henry Ford II with Andy Warhol; or Thomas Watson with Jacob Javits and Sammy Davis, Jr. He believes nothing can happen until this system ends, until the cancer-ridden invalid dies and frees the living; and he sardonically applauds anything which contributes to this end: more Israel, more Teddy Kennedy, more modern art, more welfare, more Mexicans, more Blacks, more minorities of all kinds, more crime, more Supreme Court, more Congress, more business, more GNP, more busing, more NBC and ABC and CBS, more Elliot Gould and Woody Allen and Barbara Tuchman and Lillian Hellman, more rock music and drugs and illiteracy, always more mess and more non-caring. He wants to get it over with as soon as possible.
He is deeply, deeply suspicious of his fellow Majority members just because they are so overwhelmingly non-caring. He knows that humanity rarely behaves itself, rarely acts in its best interests, and that there is no reason to suppose it is going to do so now. He expects nothing except what he can do for himself — anything beyond that is pure gravy. He never forgets that it is too late, nothing now but au revoir and déjà vu and quite finished. Don’t take it seriously, he cautions himself, the worst it can do is demand your life.
He is at home with himself and also with the minds which come to him across the centuries, encouraging and sustaining him, especially those who saw this collapse coming: Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Turgenev, James, Twain, Eliot, Shaw. If he had to sum up his raison d’être, though, it might lie in a quotation from Isak Dinesen:
Pride is the faith that God had, when he made us. A proud man is conscious of the idea, and aspires to realize it. He does not strive towards a happiness, a comfort, which may be irrelevant to God’s idea of him. His success is the idea of God, successfully carried through, and he is in love with his destiny.
The thought exactly defines his position; he believes that even if he stands entirely alone among his contemporaries, he is nevertheless backed by stronger forces. God is on his side.
The carer shouldn’t marry unless he can find a wife who is a carer to the degree that he is. And he shouldn’t have a family unless he and she can figure out how they’re going to handle the delicate problem of the children. How should they be brought up? What if they are non-carers. If a man discovers that he is a carer only after he already has a family, then he has to wonder how his wife will take it. He tries to find out by hinting. If she hints back, well and good. If she doesn’t … divorce, or suffer in silence. In either case, what about the children, assuming that such exist?
All this is written from the man’s angle, but it also applies to women. In fact, they are far more likely to be carers than men, because they are less taken in by nonsense. But man or woman, each case is different, just as every family is. However, all caring families have the quality of unity in common. As Chesterton said, the family is a fighting thing, like a ship, and it has formidable resourcefulness and strength.
If enough families care, will they join together? Perhaps. And if they do band together, what can they do? At that point, answers become speculative, and I must say that I don’t know. I think that such questions — involving the tactics and strategies of survival — would have to be decided by the people directy involved at the time. There are so many variables — the numbers of people, the condition of the country and the world, the aims (Only to survive? To take over? Something in between?) — that it is impossible to be definite. The method of decision and the basic questions are all that can be realistically considered now. Assuming that a thousand-plus genuine carers find themselves in touch, how can they proceed?
My suggestion would be the formation of a secret (everything about carers has to be secret) council or think tank. Not a think tank like the Rand Corporation or the Hudson Institute, where the composition — non-carers to a man — makes true exploration impossible, but a real one, where all alternatives could be explored. Its reality would be based on the fact that its rationality would be the culmination and extension of caring, and not the other way around. Assuming that all members of such a council/think tank would be carers, they would follow the description of the individual carer given above and be agreed at the start that: this is a unique crisis in human affairs, with no precedents to turn to, at least in recorded history, thus demanding entirely new solutions, which rules out those of the left, right and center; no democratic solution is possible; there can be no compromise with or blackmail by the produce-and-consume and Russian threats (“What will happen if …?”).
The initial questions would be: Can we understand the present and act in the future unless we understand the past? How did the present situation come about? We know the system failed, but how did we human beings create a system which was bound to fail? Why is human history a succession of such failures? Is there a fatal flaw in us? If so, why hasn’t it been taken into account? (Can there be any doubt, for instance, that if Thomas Jefferson had foreseen modern Los Angeles and New York he would have torn up the Declaration of Independence? And that all the signers, given the same foresight, would have agreed with him? That Jesus Christ would have felt the same way about Christianity had he foreseen its results? That all the “great men” of the past would have felt the same way had they foreseen the results of their attempts to lead humanity into their systems and religions?) How can the pattern be broken? If we agree that it is not worth creating a political-religious solution which only lasts for a few years and then turns into a grotesque parody of itself — Christianity and the American Revolution, to name only two among dozens — then how can we create a solution which will last for … a long time, shall we say?
The next questions might be: If humanity is fatally flawed, how can the flaw be compensated for? Was Original Sin such a metaphorical warning? Is non-rational as opposed to rational a working description of human reality? Have the political solutions of the past foundered because they were attempts to impose rational solutions on humanity, which is basically non-rational? (Religions have fared much better in being non-rational to begin with. They have gone down because they tend to be entirely non-rational, and thus not wholly satisfying to humanity, which has a strong rational overlay on its basic non-rationality.) If so, what would a basically non-rational political solution be? Wouldn’t it still have to be rational, even in its non-rationality? Put another way, how does rationality arrive at non-rationality? Exactly how has the Christian religion failed? Was it that the old Catholic world cared, but failed to satisfy rationality; and that the new Protestant world satisfied rationality (making it more of a political system than a religion), but didn’t care? How can those mistakes be avoided, or the two synthesized?
Christianity, democracy, communism, empire-building, technology and produce-and-consume have all failed, or we have failed in their commission — does this mean they should be junked entirely? Or should they be reassessed in a new political program? Should everything from the past be so reassessed? How extensive should a program be? Total? Will it set an ideal of behavior? For example, will it assume that if we control ourselves we will automatically control others, or will it reject that as too idealistic? Will specific solutions flow from self-control? Can a problem be entirely positive, with a theoretical place in it for everyone? For instance, if society were organized along self-controlled lines by the Majority, under a code applicable to all, with the minorities given the choice of behaving according to such a code or else, just like everyone in the Majority, would the minority problem be solved? What about proselytization? All political and religious organizations have tried to win converts, but is this one reason they failed? Would it be better not to proselytize? To make admission difficult? To make the potential joiner prove himself rather than vice versa? What about maintaining the quality and intensity of the program as numbers increase? How will the leaders be selected and how will their quality be maintained?
Assuming that satisfactory answers of some kind can be found to all the theoretical questions — the above are merely a sample — then come the others: Should the system be allowed to fall in on its own or should the collapse be actively assisted? If actively assisted, to what degree? By boycott? By revolt? By forming a cadre to take over after the collapse? And so on and on.
Probability indicates that very little if any of the above is going to take place, but it is well to be prepared for any eventuality, even the most unlikely. In my own experience, as noted, I have yet to meet anyone who cared enough to go against the system in a way that meant anything. And I have met a great number of people in all walks of life. Many of them have been disgruntled, and not a few, especially in the working class, have talked violently about what they will and won’t do. But disgruntlement and casual violence, while they may fuel the collapse and even provide transitional leadership and furious activity, are not the same as trying to find the root causes of our very complex problems — the very nature of political and religious man — and then trying to find an embracing solution which will work for some time. For those who are disgruntled and/or violent and little else, this series of columns will not provide the simplistic answer they seek. Only the genuine carer, if such exists (I take it on faith, as noted, that they do), might benefit, and those only to the degree that my notions of the problems involved and the questions to be answered, rather than the answers themselves, may help them in their own adjustment to the current situation and to what is coming.
* * *
Source: Instauration magazine, September 1979