Douglas Mercer
May 9 2023
One by one they try to pick off the great White men of the past, they remove names, they slander reputations, the change the words of their books, they dunk their statues in the water, they put up “contextual” markers to explain away their greatness, they put the statues in the basements, and sometimes they melt them down. A favorite ploy is to splash red paint on the statue thus simulating “blood on the icon.” This is one of their preferred methods because they think White history is a particularly bloody affair, and the White man was practically wading in blood as he turned even the seas awash in red. But this history was not that much bloodier than others, and to the extent it was it was only because our native genius conceived and executed more firepower. As has been noted the lead dod is always getting bitten in the ass.
So when the requisite and clichéd red paint was found in Australia of late the good news is that the mayor didn’t form a committee to look into taking down the statues, hooligans were not allowed to topple it, police did not kneel, protestors did not scream black lives matter, no one said that Aussies were long overdue for another one of those famous “national conversations,” no brown fists were raised angrily in the air; and while surely some academic sleazeballs pontificated on the plight of the abbos at the hands of the White man way back then they were (for the nonce at least) ignored. No, the community was outraged and set about restoring the statue to its former glory. Good for them.
“The community in Sydney’s north-west is angry after a statue was defaced with red paint ahead of a local Anzac Day dawn service (April 25 2023). The Lachlan Macquarie statue in Windsor’s McQuade Park was doused in red paint and handprints alongside the phrases here stands a mass murderer who ordered the genocide and no pride in genocide.”
Why no pride in genocide? As a Texas judge used to say in reference to the alleged victim back when America was still a halfway decent country and he had a murder defendant in front of him: did he need a killing? Do they? Certainly the dirty abbos are now moving from being a thorn in the side of White Australia to being a dagger in its heart. It used to be some forlorn soul-searchers who wept a tear or two from time to time for the brown runts, but now those matted haired freaks have moved right in to the firing line of the national brain. They have their flag flying “proudly” on a big bridge in Sydney Harbor (the White flag came down), they are catered to incessantly, they are about to get a big seat in Parliament, an “artist” is going to put the embalmed corpse of White man in an exhibit for penance, they can’t have Australia Day in peace any more (red paint, crazed communists), the lordly and great Captain Cook is anathematized, and apparently they are making plans to officially re-cede sovereignty back to them so they have more room to graze for grubs. Surely had they been wiped off the map long ago down to the last generation none of this would be happening.
“Mayor Sarah McMahon said she was alerted to the incident after the dawn service and said upon inspection, the paint was still significantly wet. To me, it had been done quite recently, she said. I am really saddened there are members of our community out there that think this is the appropriate way to get their message across.”
Apparently this is not the first time this statue had been targeted, in 2017 the statue was graffitied with the words murderer as part of an Australia Day protest. They really are around the bend and over the moon for these aboriginals, this is their first, second, and last love, but what they call murder is really just conquest, it’s old as the hills and as old as the book of time. The White man of course used to do it all the time; but now submit to conquest.
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It’s a simple story, really, a great White island nation hit critical mass, its industry and its genius act like a steamroller, they send their men out into the new world, and pretty soon the White race dominates everything. Those in the way pay the price and no one ever considers the “morality” of it, and why would they? They were doing something unprecedented and important and their energy and effort was on the task at hand, not in tied up in mewling hang wringing about the supposed wrongs and rights of it. To them such a notion would have been deemed ludicrous in the extreme. Lachlan Macquarie was part of this wave, he went to the island nation of Australia so as to plant the White flag and what he did proves the old adage—not that good deeds never go unpunished—but that nothing succeeds like success. What we owe him and—men like him---is beyond calculation certainly infinitely better than they are treated in the sob sisterism of the contemporary world—where all good deeds done by White men must be punished with death.
“As a British Army Officer and colonial administrator from Scotland. Macquarie served as the fifth Governor of New South Wales from 1810 to 1821, and had a leading role in the social, economic, and architectural development of the colony. He is considered by historians to have had a crucial influence in creating New South Wales as a free settlement and therefore to have played a major role in the shaping of Australian society in the early nineteenth century”
That is he was a stalwart, a founder, a creator, one the men who laid the building stones of White Australia—he was a master builder. These are the kind of men who were giants in the earth, and who for a century and more were revered and respected. It’s good to see that the people where that statue is still feel that way, but how long can that last? Cattle die and men did, but the only way the deeds of our great men last forever is if we keep telling their amazing stories around the campfires of our hearts: a priceless and precious heirloom passed down from generation to generation and from hand to hand.
“In the winter of 1814 a number of settlers and Aboriginal people were killed in conflict in the Nepean River region. Macquarie initially made proclamations to promote peace but also later sent an armed expedition to patrol the area.”
The White man didn’t want war but once given he was going to win it. In those days there was never any question about it. Why would there have been? There was a high destiny in them being there, and no opposition could be brooked. Of the North American continent and the White race Robert Frost said the land was ours before we were the lands; but for the aboriginals the land was never theirs nor did they ever become the lands. A mere presence in any place does not confer right or legitimacy let alone possession or ownership. From everything we see of the world it wants there to be use, development, evolution. Perhaps inscrutable but no one who has thought it through can doubt that there is a plan afoot, and it needs worthy human beings to accomplish it. Stagnation, or stasis, or regression, is abhorrent to this power; simply put the aboriginals had no purpose and no future-and thus it was required and right that they be discarded. The only tragedy involved is that a rump of them survived to bedevil us.
“There is controversy around Macquarie’s treatment of Indigenous people. In April 1816 Macquarie ordered soldiers under his command to kill or capture any Aboriginal people they encountered during a military operation aimed at creating a sense of terror. At least 14 men, women and children were brutally killed, some shot, others driven over a cliff.”
This is the story of every European colonial offshoot: what else could it have been? On the long trek outward to the ends of the earth the White race was only fulfilling a destiny that began with those milk drinking bronze age riders. An arc of success and accomplishment and outward and upward flow unprecedented in the world—and which transformed the world. There was no intrinsic reason that it could not have gone on forever. Indeed, in the nineteenth century it was conventional wisdom that the Indians and the blacks and the others who were being trod over would simply go extinct, or perhaps remain in exceedingly small numbers here and there to be displayed as museum pieces of comic amusement in wild west shows.
“In 1816 Macquarie gave orders that led to the Appin Massacre of Gundungurra and Dharawal people during the Hawkesbury and Nepean war. In March 1816, considerable Aboriginal resistance was encountered especially at Silverdale where a large group of Aborigines killed four settlers with a combination of spears and stolen muskets. Macquarie ordered the mobilization of three detachments of the military in order to go into the Interior and remote parts of the Colony, for the purpose of Punishing the Hostile Natives, by clearing the Country of them entirely, and driving them across the mountains; as well as if possible to apprehend the Natives who have committed the late murders and outrages, with the view of their being made dreadful and severe examples of, if taken alive.”
Four dead settlers—settlers today being one of those bywords they use for evil—four dead settlers, and anyone who knew anything knew for sure that therefore the abbos goose was cooked. As the saying goes they f***** around and were about to find out. Find out that that they were not long for this earth, and were about to be made short work of. Find out that the White man’s patience was always in short supply, that no dust settled on their shoes and no grass grew beneath their feet, that we were not ones to ponder to long but instead act in concert and with force; and when it came to his destiny it was always full speed ahead. No liberalism or humanitarianism clouded our vision, the only law we obeyed was the unremitting law of the blood, of kill of be killed, and killing was in a fashion. Did they need a killing? One look at them and it’s the question that answers itself. No casus belli would ever go unanswered; if this seems a bloody flag today it’s only because what people no longer have the stomach for is—victory.
— I have directed as many Natives as possible to be made Prisoners, with the view of keeping them as Hostages until the real guilty ones have surrendered themselves, or have been given up by their Tribes to summary Justice. — In the event of the Natives making the smallest show of resistance – or refusing to surrender when called upon so to do – the officers Commanding the Military Parties have been authorized to fire on them to compel them to surrender; hanging up on Trees the Bodies of such Natives as may be killed on such occasions, in order to strike the greater terror into the Survivors
This is as unequivocal as unequivocal can get, is it not? These were not men who beat around the bush; they went into the bush in search of the enemy; when they were done there was a new King in the land and the great future could unfurl untrammeled.
“April 1816, the detachment of 33 grenadiers managed to corner a large group of Aboriginals near the Cataract River gorge in the upper Nepean catchment. At least 14 men, women and children were killed, some shot while others fell off the cliffs. This became known as the Appin Massacre. The corpses of two men, Cannabaygal and Dunnell, were strung up on trees as per Macquarie's instructions, the skull of Cannabaygal later being taken to Scotland.”
That would teach them. It’s an age old practice and custom of conquerors to exhibit their defeated enemies in triumphs; to display their dead for the edification of the people; now of course in Australia an aboriginal “artist” is soliciting for White Australians to donate their future corpse so he can put it on display in a gallery. When the tables are turned our people perish.
“Hostilities continued for most of the rest of 1816 with Macquarie proclaiming no Aborigines were allowed into the settled areas without a passport and issuing search and destroy orders for a further 10 Aboriginal men. By early 1817, these actions by Macquarie forced an end to Aboriginal resistance.”
And end to resistance—that is the stated goal. It is this élan, it is this spirit, it is this high resolve, that made us who we are. And it is it the lack of it that is proving our undoing. For those White men of old knew a thing or two, knew about securing the land, and knew about securing our future. What they bequeathed to us is now slipping away day by day, and drip by drip, it is our blood which is now on the line, for its time honored that there is either the blood of your enemies soaked on the battlefield—or there will be blood on your icons.
