Douglas Mercer
January 27 2025
Continued from The Order: A Drama (Part Four)
As I write this we are in the full flush of success; we have hauled in well over five million dollars and there is no doubt that they will say that I am building an Army; they are right about that, though of course it could go by the name of a cell or a militia or what have you; and even though we are riding a high tide right now I think it important to write these last remaining pages as we are always in a state of siege and one thing goes wrong and that is it for us. I am certainly writing this for my brothers in arms all across the world; and I know that more than a few will question my methods and question my tactics; I understand that and will not attempt to justify what we are doing but rather explain it and, as always, let each man be his own judge. I know too that in the early 1960s Rockwell brazenly displayed the Swastika as did Colin Jordan in Britain; this National Socialist Iconography became a point of contention, first because it was seen to be backwards looking and, second, because it was felt to be needlessly provocative. This is only to say that among our race there will always be healthy debate and this is as it should be; we believe in the principle of the leader but the leader is only the representative of all the men under him who have valuable voices which must be heard. Despite what they say we are not sheep after all. The only thing I can say is that I fully believe that the future belongs only to the men who are willing to get their hands dirty. I have become convinced of it; and will live, or die, by it.
When I spoke to Dr. Pierce he told me an interesting anecdote about how he came to write The Turner Diaries, a novel from which we took our name, a novel which inspired us, and showed us the outline of what an underground rebellion might look like. Pierce said he had been writing his essays but to his chagrin they were not having the impact that he desired. He said that Revilo Oliver suggested that he try his hand at fiction, that the type of young men he wished to reach were not likely to read an essay, however well reasoned and cogent, but that what they loved was fantasy fiction laced with adventure and action and explosions and gore; from personal experience I can say that though this is regrettable it most certainly true. Pierce also gave me a short and obscure novel called The John Franklin Letters which he said was written in 1959 and which Turner was modeled on. In this book we get the same theme of a tyrannical world government which caters to all the races other than Whites. One statement from this book resonated with me; the narrator said what do we have in our Northern Cities other than a condition of war? And if this was true in 1959 (which it was) how much more true is it now in 1984? And if nothing is done about it how much more true will it be in 2020? A condition of war; it is this simple notion which is the basis for all of our action.
To the average man in the street this might seem outlandish or farfetched; after all he might have a decent home and perhaps he is fortunate enough to live outside of the areas where the blacks and the Mexicans leading their filthy and crime laden lives are preponderant; but this man, I tell you, this man lives in a fool’s paradise and dons rose colored glasses; and the rising tide of color will soon be lapping at his doors. No, the great mark of a leader is to see the trend line of the future in order to forestall it; and make no mistake about it, we now, and not only in our Northern Cities, are in a condition of war. In 1965 our so called leaders opened the gates of this country to racial scum the world over. What was once a European country top to bottom no longer is so; and the blacks were given their rights, which is another way of saying that they with their always feral savagery have been unleashed on White Society; in the past decades how many White women have been raped by blacks? How many robberies and muggings? How many clean White neighborhoods have gone to seed with the presence of the black man? How much money have they stolen from us through the auspices of the government under the color of the ill-named “welfare?” How many laws pave the way for them? How much affirmative action? The numbers astound and anyone who has the courage to notice can see it with his own two eyes. So despite the illusionistic placid veneer of our society, and even this Potemkin Village peace is beginning to fray and wear thin, we are now in a state of war. I repeat this: we are now in a state of war, one in which our skin is our uniform. And while every war requires its ideologues and its polemicists every war also calls forth its warriors. And I can say for sure that the future belongs to those willing to commit the Propaganda Of The Deed.
As I have lived on my land in Metaline Falls I have had much time to read. A book which really caught my eye was one written some six decades ago called The Decline Of The West by Oswald Spengler. It is a remarkable and comprehensive book. I have since learned that Spengler himself had Jewish blood in his veins and he fell foul of the National Socialists. And as time wore on more and more I began to object to that last word of the title: West. What it should have been called is the Decline of the Aryans. Other men of the time (pure Aryan men it need be said) had more clarity. Madison Grant wrote of The Passing Of the Great Race, that race being the Aryan Race. And Lothrop Stoddard wrote of the rising tide of color against White World Supremacy; and it dawned on me if as to our Aryan people those great men of some six decades ago were speaking of decline and passing, and of a rising tide of color against our supremacy, their prescience was bold indeed; and all this time later the horrific process is picking up speed. In all our homelands the White race is the race that dare not speak its name; we are in a free fall of demographic decline; our neighborhoods are indundated by race aliens, our jobs stolen by them. And the world is pounding on White Rule in South Africa and if (god forbid!) they should fall after them will be the black deluge.
From the perspective of time it is all so clear. And it is why we have chosen the path that we have, the path from which there can be no return; all of these words are only so there will be an accurate record of our thoughts and our aims and our methods in the very likely if unfortunate event that we shall fail; I write for the only audience that ever matters---I write for posterity. And should we fail I believe that we will be vindicated in our actions. For the world will look very different to those who are hacking through impenetrable forests, burying their loved ones, existing like refugees in their former homes, and think nothing of spilling blood to defend their honor and life. Heaven forefend that it shall ever be so; but it is important to send up a flare of warning. And to set an example to light the way for all time. For if we young men adore grand and noble sagas of adventure and daring and gore how much more do we love the real thing? To be part of history and change it? For it is action alone that stands the only test that matters: the test of time
Continued at The Order: A Drama (Part Six)
