Douglas Mercer
September 19 2024
The Jewish Question lies at the heart of Heidegger’s thought, at the center of the question par excellence of philosophy. To the Jews—seen as the rootless agents of modernity, accused of machination to seize power, of the desertification of the earth, of the uprooting of peoples, condemned to be worldless—Heidiegger imputed the gravest guilt: the oblivion of being. The Jew is the sign of the end of everything, a people who must be eradicated before the new and beautiful beginning may emerge.
The fate of the war between the German and the Jews has its own truth for which our calculation is no match.
Freedom was born in a German forest; not in a Quaker meeting hall or in a Philadelphia conclave; freedom was born in a German forest. It was not words on paper or subclauses and no one signed anything with a grand flourish, or made grand statements about human equality; it was brave and noble men meeting together in freedom in the open vistas of nature and pledging their oaths on their lives; The Thing was an assembly in an open space made of up of free Germans and presided over by a law speaker, and it was where our ancestors met to defend the community; no quill pens or knees breaches were present, not at all; this was about sacred honor and loyalty; this was about the life of their people and the freedom of free born men.
The Frontier Thesis came about at a time when the Germanic germ theory of history was popular. Proponents of the germ theory believed that political habits are determined by innate racial attributes. Americans inherited such traits as adaptability and self-reliance from the Germanic peoples of Europe. According to the theory, the Germanic race appeared and evolved in the ancient Teutonic forests, endowed with a great capacity for politics and government. Their germs were, directly and by way of England, carried to the New World where they were allowed to germinate in the North American forests. In so doing, the Anglo-Saxons and the Germanic people's descendants, being exposed to a forest like their Teutonic ancestors, birthed the free political institutions that formed the foundation of American government.
Famously the Emperor Augustus was histrionically beside himself when the news of Roman defeat in the Teutoburg Forrest reached him, he is said to have pulled at his hair and in a wild lamentation that echoed down the corridors of his palace ullulated: Varus, Varus, where are my legions! Sunk in the earth was where they were, and a good thing too. Had they not been the country of Germany would have been taken over by Rome and thus Romanized. As it was the German “barbarians” were able to remain aloof from the rest of Europe and pursue in relative quiet their special path (sonderweg), they were mixed with no one either ideologically or racially, they were like no one but themselves. Thus they were the god’s special preserve and the apple of its eye and their extraordinary path was meant to lead to the stars, and it did, almost. But sooner rather than later that day will ensue, albeit in an unusual form.
As they emerged into the modern world the Germans were a collection of statelets and principalities at the crossroads of Europe; as such they were the hunting ground for armies and their worldly power was well nigh nil; despite Luther’s magisterial birth of the German language they were laggards in culture as well; but around 1613 English travelers brought the theater arts of England to the German lands; it still took a while but by 1780 the Germans were to embark on a culture path which no one but the Greeks and the English had accomplished: Bach, Beethoven, Mozart; Goethe, Holderlin, Nietzsche: this is the modern world in six names and the names ring down the corridors of time. Germany was hailed far and wide as the inward nation, the idealists, the head in the clouds dreamers with intricate sand castles in the sky to their ever living credit; the ineffectual ones living always in the Empyrean and on the rarefied heights of Valhalla; the land of poets and thinkers they were, the ones dwelling perennially in the ivory tower in the sky or in the recesses of the castle keep; that was their universal reputation and it was no accident that Kierkegaard saw Hegel teach; and that William James went to German to study; it was the place where unfettered thought and idealism was nourished and lived out; and where novel and daring and forbidden thinking occurred. It was a people who sent language and thought into space, and ourselves soon to follow.
***
Heinrich Heine was a Jew who wrote facile poetry and overwrought prose but who for some reason is held up as a “master of the German language.” He was a cousin of Karl Marx with whom he kept up a lively correspondence. They say that he spent the last twenty-five years of his life in France as an “expatriate,” but he was never any such thing. A Jew is a patriot only the the Jewish people and as home in Paris as anywhere else—as what he always is: a Jew. To call Heine a German poet is a misnomer; rather he is Jewish rabble.
"Christianity, and this is its greatest merit, has somewhat mitigated the brutal German love of war, but it could not destroy it. Should that subduing talisman, the cross, be shattered, the frenzied madness of the ancient warriors, that insane berserk rage of which the Nordic bards have spoken and sung so often, will once more burst into flame. This talisman the cross, this Christianity is fragile. And the day will come when it will collapse miserably. Then the ancient stony gods will rise from the forgotten debris and rub the dust of a thousand years from their eyes. And then Thor, with his giant hammer, will jump up and smash the Gothic cathedrals. Do not smile at my advice, the advice of a dreamer who warns you against Kantians, Fichteans, and philosophers of nature. Do not smile at the visionary who anticipates the same revolution in the realm of the visible that has already taken place in the realm of the spirit. Thought precedes action, as lightning precedes thunder. German thunder is of true Teutonic character. It is not nimble, but rumbles ponderously. Yet it will come. And when you hear a crashing such as never before has been heard in the history of the world, then you will know that the German thunderbolt has fallen. At that uproar, the eagles of the air will drop dead. The lions in the remotest deserts of Africa will hide in their royal dens. A play will be performed in Germany which will make the French Revolution look like an innocent idyll."
So wrote Heinrich Heine, Jew. Written in 1834 this paragraph exposes the fear that the Jew has of the German; note that the Jew extols Christianity as a chastening force, one that can quell and keep the Germans in chains; he calls it a talisman, an evil spell, but naturally fails to mention that in this case it the Jew who is the malign sorcerer. Once this vile totem is removed the Germans were able to come into their own; once the fame wolf was free the Germans could once more plunge into the heart of their own freedom and summon up the spirits of those long-lost forests and long-lost assemblies. And it turned out that the German thunder and that German lightening was quite nimble and quick on its feet, and fleet and swift; and the eagle did not die but flew higher and ever higher; all in all it’s no wonder that pale fear was struck in the false poet’s heart.
***
On up until just before the Great War every middle class German home had its own unofficial orchestra; that is every family member played an instrument, all could sing, and music was an obsession; in any given town on any given night the townsfolk would gather at one of the homes to be delighted by an offering; this was a way of life, one with deep roots; with the advent of the radio in the 1920s this culture form passed from the scene.
In the 1920s traveling to Germany and writing about the social scene became a cottage industry; most were opposed to the National Socialist movement but one was not: Lothrop Stoddard. The title of his book has been misunderstood: Into The Darkness. So deeply engrained is the Jewish presupposition that Hitler is evil that the superficial who have not delved in think the “darkness” must refer to Hitler’s Germany but nothing can be further from the truth. Stoddard met Hitler and Goebbels and was duly impressed; his only quibble was that the Eugenics court did not go far enough. All in all he was quite laudatory that Germany was making great strides toward the future; as to the darkness that referred to the government’s black out policy as a result of English and American bombs.
Christopher Isherwood wrote Goodbye To Berlin in which he glorified Weimar culture and chronicled the rise of the (naturally evil) National Socialists. While living in Berlin the 27 year old Isherwood had sex with a sixteen year old German boy and cruised the nightlife of the waning Jewish republic; in sum Isherwood hewed strictly to the mores of his social class and communist ideological fellow travelers and tried to travesty the rising tide of German power. His novel was the inspiration for the movie Cabaret, which also serves as a Jewish warning against the rise of Teutonic greatness.
***
But by far the most interesting journalistic traveler in Germany in this time period was D.H. Lawrence. This author is reputed to be at least in a quasi way sympathetic to the aims of White Nationalists, but one brief glance at the 1927 essay dispels this notion. Reputedly fascinated with the dark chthonic forces and the atavistic upsurge of nature in the form of blood and power when he saw the real thing before his own two faulty eyes he recoiled in fear, quaked and quailed; in addition to writing book after book of overwrought prose inducing jaw locking dullness he is also most famous for being part of a court case when the ban on his novel Lady Chatterly’s Lover was overturned (1960), thus being an integral part of the “sexual revolution” and the overthrowing of traditional values in America. That is he wrote a dirty book which was hailed by the beats and the hippies and ushered in worldwide devastation. So much for him.
“The cathedral front rearing up high and flat and fanciful, a sort of darkness in the dark, with round rose windows and long, long prisons of stone. Queer that men should have ever wanted to put stone upon faithful stone to such a height without having it fall down. I was always glad when my card castle fell but these Goths and Alemans seemed to have a craze for peaky heights.”
So begins Lawrence’s Letter From Germany. The dizzying spires of this building give him a kind of vertigo and a queasy feeling; the great German Geist always reaches for the zenith in the sky; as essentially a humanist he likes it better when the house of cards plunges and does not approach the gods, and a people for whom these great heights are their nature scares him awfully.
“It is as if the life had retreated eastwards. As if the Germanic life were slowly ebbing away from contact with western Europe, ebbing to the deserts of the east. And there stand the heavy, ponderous round hills of the Black Forest, black with an inky blackness of Germanic trees, and patched with a whiteness of snow. The moment you are in Germany, you know. It feels empty, and, somehow, menacing. So must the Roman soldiers have watched those black, massive round hills: with a certain fear, and with the knowledge that they were at their own limit. A fear of the invisible natives. A fear of the invisible life lurking among the woods. A fear of their own opposite.”
So much for his supposed and much too famous fastening on the great forces of nature that are non human and all powerful; here is paints himself as any normal bourgeois terrified of any blackness which holds terror, so much for his purported purveying of life philosophy; here he sees life face to face and jump scares from it; and wishes that Germany would remain in the fold of old Europe with its humanistic traditions. This is the cutting edge as your grandmother, a man who said he was boldly venturing forth into the future of blood and iron but when he saw it in the flesh retreated to the parlor to cling to his mother’ skirts and so she could pet his worried brow.
“Germany is very different from what it was two and a half years ago, when I was here. Then it was still open to Europe. Then it still looked to Western Europe for a reunion, for a sort of reconciliation. Now that is over. The inevitable, mysterious barrier has fallen again, and the great leaning of the Germanic spirit is once more eastwards so that all Germany reads Men, Beasts and Gods with a kind of fascination. At night you feel strange things stirring in the darkness, strange feelings stirring out of this still unconquered Black Forest. You stiffen your backbone and you listen to the night. There is a sense of danger. Out of the very air comes a sense of danger, a queer, bristling feeling of uncanny danger. Something has happened. Something has happened which has not yet eventuated. The old spell of the old world has broken, and the old, bristling, savage spirit has set in.”
He is not prepared to face the danger; he wants comfort and solace and the old ways to go on as before. So his is really not the vanguard and dangerous thinker who plumbs the depth of nature and seeks the burning and the fire. Like Heine he fears the berserker rage of the Aryan and wants only to soothe any savage beast.
Beasts, Men, and Gods, by Polish writer, explorer, professor, and anti-Communist activist Ferdinand Ossendowski, was originally published in English as translated by Lewis Stanton Palen in 1922. The work is a quasi-autobiographic tale of high-adventure told by a Polish Colonel in the White Russian Army (Tsarist loyalists) who escaped from Vladivostok and made his way through Siberia, the Transbaikal, and Mongolia. It is a monumental journey both in the amount of time he spends, and having to avoid the Bolshevik forces along the way. The novel is also renowned in occult and theosophical circles for its tales of a subterranean kingdom which exists inside hollow Earth.
Himmler had institutionalized the search for Germanic origins in the Ahnenerbe, a research institution dedicated to delving into the secrets of the Aryan past, from Atlantis to the Icy Hyperboreans, to our affinities with the originators of the Sanskrit langaure. The Ahnenerbe (Ancestral Heritage) was an organization which was active in National Socialist Germany between 1935 and 1945. It was established by Reichsfuhrer SS Heinrich Himmler as an SS organization devoted to the task of promoting racial doctrines. The Ahnenerbe was composed of scholars and scientists from a broad range of academic disciplines and promoted the idea that the Germans descended from the Aryan race which was superior to other racial groups. Thus were the great men of the Reich forging into the Germanic past to put is on a firm and solid basis even as they were forging into the future to create the old world anew in the stars. Lawrence is appalled by this and he can’t bear the uncanny danger which is inherent in the dark night of the German forest; but that is where freedom is born; and we see that given Lawrence’s retreat from this freedom the kind of freedom that won out was the freedom to publish his dirty book, and the freedom for the likes of William Burroughs and Alan Ginsberg to drool over it. What a falling off was this indeed.
“The old flow, the old adherence is ruptured. And a still older flow has set in. Back, back to the savage and away from the polarity of civilized Christian Europe. This, it seems to me, has already happened. And it is a happening of far more profound import than any actual event. It is the father of the next phase of events. Something has happened to the human soul, beyond all help. The human soul recoiling now from unison, and making itself strong elsewhere. The ancient spirit of prehistoric Germany coming back, at the end of history.”
Here Lawrence shows himself a poor historian and a mixed up servant of the lie. The “old” flow is the “new” flow you just have to take the long view to see it. The new flow was “Christian” Europe the clinching act of which was the slaughter of some noble Saxons under false pretences around the year 800. That is this was a religion of “peace’ enforced at the point of a knife, this was a religion of so called love which desecrated temples and burned and destroyed learning; this was a Christian Europe which thought it had made dead and buried the old German gods but then, as Lawrence notes in horror, right in front of their faces they emerge from the world of shade and make their presence felt right in the center of world history. You can imagine their shock; you can imagine how appalled the were; you can imagine their chagrin. But that a man of Lawrence’ nature who was supposed to have dispensed with all conventional thought, well it’s a black mark on his name forever, and we don’t forget the traitors.
“Youths with rucksacks the same, boys and maidens in gangs come down from the hills. These youths and girls, with their non-materialistic professions, their half mystic assertions, they strike one as strange. Something primitive, like loose, roving gangs of broken, scattered tribes, so they affect one. And the swarms of people somehow produce an impression of silence, of secrecy, of stealth. It is as if everything and everybody recoiled away from the old unison, as barbarians lurking in a wood recoil out of sight.”
These were not barbarians, not at all. This was the flower of Germany shaking off the yoke of the Jews. This was those wandering birds who did not want to toil in the name of machine civilization built on money and tawdry and cheap culture; this was a youth who were getting in touch and channeling their ancestors as sure as any Roman who donned a mask of a forbear at the ritual in the grove; this was a people who saw that a fatal decision was being made; the history was about to go planetary, the grand politics was ensuing; but that Jews were in the ascendant; and so we had a unique thing in the world: a people reverting across centuries to its primal origins in order to stand and fight and move into the beautiful future; and they did nothing in secrecy or stealth but stood as men and openly declared what they were for: themselves and their future.
“And it all looks as if the years were wheeling swiftly backwards, no more onwards. Like a spring that is broken and whirls swiftly back, so time seems to be whirling with mysterious swiftness to a sort of death. Whirling to the ghost of the old Middle Ages of Germany, then to the Roman days, then to the days of the silent forest and the dangerous, lurking barbarians. Something about the Germanic races is unalterable. White-skinned, elementary and dangerous. The blood changes, German blood changes.”
Wrong again: onwards always the Germans go. Back to the primordial, back to the beginning, only to spring to the stars. The blood did not change but the blood was remembered; White skinned and dangerous they were; honor and loyalty guiding their way, and a fierce and native courage pushing them on. There has never been the like in history and we recall it as a spur to ourselves; to live up to that example is the motive and intention of our lives; wheeling and whirring swiftly back to remember in order to fortify ourselves for the far flung future heading our way.
***
Germany in the 1930s had been ringed about with enemies; no people who cower in the face of that deserve to live; but if any country ever deserved to live it was National Socialist Germany. Hitler warned the Jews openly that if they fomented this war they would pay with everything they have; that is if you play with fire you will get burned. The only regret is that flames did not go higher and higher.
William Pierce paints a correct picture of how the god works: it perhaps has more than a few irons in more than a few fires but as the options narrow he focuses on one people; that one is under tremendous pressure to perform and if one should fail or falter the god will look for some other people at some other time; but the dream of the god, to have an ever expanding consciousness, to have its own realization made complete will not be thwarted; the ancient Greeks and Romans made it to the door of fate but were not able to cross the threshold; Europe made it agonizingly close but in 1945 the gate was slammed shut. And now we live in the wasteland slowly building up for the next chance. This is our episode and in murmurs we see that this time is the right time, that the third time (as ever) will be the charm; this time the route will be very different but this time we shall not fail; all the preparation is in place and is sufficient; and the god is ready to call the game, having see enough; it’s an invitation we cannot decline and, as such, it is a command. And it’s guaranteed to blow our minds. Germany of course is done, the play will be elsewhere, much drama and much melodrama, much wheeling swiftly, many climaxes and anti-climaxes, long caesuras, a man without a fortune but a name at the end of time. And it is certain we will pay attention to the man behind the curtain as the curtain rises or falls.
Susan Sontag said that the White race is the cancer of human history: Martin Heidegger said that Jews were the oblivion of being. These are serious accusations. Each is saying the other is a death cult. And the war over who is correct is now no longer beyond our calculation. The issue is who is accurate and it depends on who drew first blood; the historical record is clear on this, and honor is our loyalty and they have neither one nor the other; but in the end it’s never who drew first blood but who draws first when the time comes; the end is fated but the path is open; so let the play begin and let every man make his is mark and watch for the cues; on a field of sable always gules. It will make all of history look like an idyll when we rub the dust of the centuries from our eyes, when finally the realm of thought merges with that of reality. German poets created this, we are the start of the coming race, the voices will come out of nowhere put on for a lark. The play is the thing to catch the attention of the King.
