Douglas Mercer
February 21 2025
Continued from Pierce (Part Two)
Here’s the thing, he said, I really did not create a new religion, it had all been said before. Perhaps if I have any distinction it was to coalesce it and put it on a firm footing. But it’s always been there, in one form or another. Poe wrote a story called Eureka, a story he said made discoveries that were greater than Gravity for crying out loud—all about how the universe is a Plot of God. I like that, God as a writer and we are all part of a grand narrative which is unfolding but we as the characters have to do our part to pull the curtain down, as it were.
There are lots of angles to come at it of course. Take the Gaia Hypotheses for instance. That was coming out just when I was really beginning my writing. It was a hippie thing of course, but that never bothered me, I always look at what is said and forget who is saying it. You know the idea, that the earth is a living and a conscious being—this wall here (as he taps the wall next to him)—it’s alive too, or it was, and maybe it still is, who knows. What’s that bit about there being more in heaven and earth than philosophy dreams of, I believe that, there is way more to it than can be known by our conscious minds, what we all see, it’s just the tip of the iceberg. The only problem I had with Gaia is that they were so against technology and I think technology is part of the plan, that is provided we don’t treat the earth like a glorified gas station. And of course you have to go farther than they do, it’s not just the earth that is alive but the universe—alive and conscious. Wrap your head around that if you like.
This was Pierce at his best, off the cuff and speaking from a great store of knowledge, freewheeling and cutting loose. He was in essence a reserved and tight-lipped man but late at night on subjects he loved he became quite garrulous. What had elicited this storm of words was that I had asked him what it was that had changed him, what was it that had made him such a fiercely independent thinker and person. He said starting in college he had had the nagging feeling that he might be wasting his life. He had read a short story by Tolstoy about an average successful man who learns that he is dying and realizes that his whole life had been a waste, just totally wasted. He said that slowly at first but then more and more he began to think what it might mean to have a purpose in l life—but having a purpose was not enough—for what purpose is it to be? He only knew that if you did not have a purpose—and the right one—the one that called your name—your life would be waste: and nothing was worse than that.
It was that Shaw fellow that really got me going, I think I was still at Cal Tech when I first came across Man and Superman. I liked it so much that I went out and bought a record of it and listened to it over and over. It was Shaw by the way who got the term Superman—borrowed from Nietzsche—first into the public consciousness. Now of course Superman is just a cartoon about truth, justice and the American way---as always it was a Jew who bastardized the great Aryan idea.
In Shaw’s play there is a Don Juan character who says the goal of life is pure thought---total contemplation—and that this thought is what he calls the Life Force. Essentially the Life Force is what the universe is all about, but in order to think correctly one must be in tune with it—be aligned with it—and that the universe has plans and goals but only the strong man without fear can usher them in. And that this force uses a man, uses him up, but it is only in this valiant striving after things father and more grand can a man attain his purpose. Our purpose is the creator’s purpose, that is how I summed it up later.
After reading Man And Superman I decided to go back to the horse’s mouth if you will and I began to read deeply in Nietzsche, and that was eye opening, it was the axe which broke the frozen sea inside of me as someone said. But it was certainly true for me. In a way we all borrow from one who came before us and the German philosopher certainly cribbed from an earlier, obscure novel, called The Coming Race—the title of which says it all. Nietzsche wrote that what we are is only way station, a steppingstone, that man is just a precursor and a proving ground—but that the purpose of the earth is the higher man, the coming man. We are a rope, he said, stretched over an abyss, a rope which runs from nature to eternity---what a thought that was!
And so you see all of this was marinating and percolating in my mind—it’s such a simple idea but such a powerful one. The notion that the universe had no purpose, that behind it all is just a blind will always seemed preposterous to me. I know a little about physics and when my fellows stray into philosophy without studying it they make fools of themselves. You hear a lot about vacuum states and virtual particles---but that’s still something. No, the universe is not just one of those things which happens from time to time, or an accident, or a fluke, or a non sequitur I suppose. Anyone who has seen the sun rise with the requisite awe knows that something is going on. We can debate what—but not if. Nothing comes from nothing—Shakespeare said that, he probably borrowed that from someone else, but it’s still true.
He stopped for moment, and I took the opportunity to ask him about Savitri Devi. He said I made her famous you know? Before that she was an underground writer certainly known to the select few but when I put forth a condensed version of the Lightening And The Sun in Rockwell’s The National Socialist world all hell broke loose for her. What a world we were creating, Rockwell, Pierce and Devi! Does it get better than that? She was a true powder keg of a lady, from early on she was drawn to a kind of Pan Aryanism, studied in India, and saw that what Hitler had left undone she had to do—create a global network of the Aryan race which would revive what she called Sun Worship. She had the great notion that Hitler was a man against time meaning the time was not ripe for his explosion—but that eventually would come the man with time—the Superman.
She was indefatigable in the cause and wrote some beautiful books. I can say that some of her camp followers got a little fruity about it and they came up with something called Esoteric Hitlerism, all about Metropolitan Atlantis and how the water was thinner than now and the air thicker, celestial beings and sacred memory. For myself I like to be a bit more straightforward about it although even what I write from a strict scientific point of view (if there is such a thing) is a little outlandish. But I never liked the word occult I prefer to speak of growing consciousness. And as for esoteric my view is it’s only esoteric until you know about it.
***
Do you believe in the Holocaust? For others that would be a punch in the solar plexus or a softball but to Pierce it was neither of those things—it was a provocations and an invitation. Like hell I do—do you believe in fairy tales or that the Emperor has clothes—or Santa Claus? Let me tell you how the Jews operate—first off they have been dining out on the sacred six million for decades now but the Jews were bandying about the number six million around the turn of the twentieth century---like vultures getting ready for the carrion.
Never put anything past the Jews---do you remember that show the Six Million Dollar man from the seventies? Well, before that the number six million did not have the resonance or the ring it has now. So what do the Jews do? They have a television show with that number in it, implant it everyone’s brain like a jingle or an ear worm just to make the poison go down nice and smooth like a catchy tune. By the way the seventies was when the Jews really came into their own with the shows Holocaust and Roots. Got everybody riled up to feel guilt and softened them up for the kill. And don’t mention Sophie’s Choice—that was Meryl Streep—and she was in Holocaust too. Everyone knows show business is nothing but an extension of the Jewish religion.
But let me answer your question. Was there a Holocaust? Sure, Jews were killed but it’s grossly distorted and exaggerated. You know we had camps too. And if the Japanese and the Germans had been pounding us into oblivion and turning our cities into fire balls—and then if one was heading north through Mexico and the other south from Canada—you think those inmates would have been given food? You know how long it takes normal healthy people penned in and deprived of the food, water and medical care to look like those skeletons in the pajamas? 21 days. Think about that. And if the Japs had come across that in the context of a prostate America they could have woven any fantasy about it they liked. And don’t think they wouldn’t have, the sneaky bastards. But nobody is more sneaky than the Jews—take my word for it.
In my mind’s ear I could hear him say don’t get me started on Hitler so I decided to get him started on Hitler. A great man, he said, no compunction about it. This was a man sleeping on a park bench who willed his way to within inches of world domination. Nature makes one warrior at a time but in his case nature took its time. Look at what he faced: a degenerate culture in which, as he said, the people no longer participate; a Jewish banking system leeching off the people; and a nation ringed about with armed enemies. As for the so called war guilt I always say what do you do if outside your house armed men begin to congregate? Do you wait until there are so many they become insurmountable? Or do you strike when you can? German always faced the problem of encirclement and they were just doing what any reasonable people would try to do: break out. Of course Hitler was no plaster saint and may even have been a rough customer but when you play with fire you should never expect not to get burned. And anyway the Jews will always be the first to tell you what happened to them but they are less vocal about why. Isn’t it true? So no one should cry a river about it.
***
My meeting with Revilo Oliver was all bound up with how I founded the National Alliance in the first place. He was the eminence grise of the far right and I can say I’ve never met a more remarkable man—you talk about educated, he knew some ten languages and had translated from Sanskrit (The Little Clay Cart). I can tell you he had forgotten more than I will ever know. And you mentioned how I turned away from a nice comfortable life to live the difficult one, but think of him. When that little spy Buckley needed some academic heft to bolster the National Review he turned to Oliver who for a time turned out the usual acceptable patter about Big Brother and the evils of the Communists—their one rule was that you could say anything you wanted about the Reds except that it was a Jewish Production from the start. By the way like all of us he did his time with the Birchers before (like all of us) figuring out that they too recoiled at the word Jew; they were about as much danger to the System as that little old lady from Pasadena.
And here he turned around in his chair and as if by instinct reached for a book and told me to listen to this:
It is a grim and terrible fact that most of the members of our own race have had their minds so deformed by centuries of cunning Jewish propaganda that they have been conditioned, as effectively as well-trained dogs, to snarl and bite when their Jewish masters utter certain key-words, such as fascist, racist, and the like, which take the place of the sic ’em to which dogs respond.
First off that’s some damn good prose, that alone is worth every back issue of Buckley’s rag—and you think that would ever get past the censors? But had Oliver chosen to keep a low profile by churning out the required platitudes he could have had a long and successful career as a public figure on the right---just like that creep George Will who they said was a real stylist—but Oliver could write circles around him. But he just could not do it—so he had to publish his one book in London far away from prying eyes. Apparently you can’t call vaporizing the Jews a beatific vision in the land of Free Speech. If he had one flaw it was a kind of monomania and loquaciousness—for Attack! I once had to cut his review of Simpson’s book and he wasn’t too happy about. I told him I think Christianity is poison in the well as much as you do, but do we always need a hundred pages on it?
***
People say that I fell out with George Lincoln Rockwell but nothing could be further from the truth. I loved Rockwell! And I learned so much from him. For a time I edited his publication and I became sort of the in house intellectual of the movement. Where I differed from Rockwell was in tactics, my unwillingness to unfurl the Swastika was not a rejection of Hiller (far from it) but a simple recognition of the context within which I was to do my work. But I can say there is nothing wrong with an extremist having a sense of humor and Rockwell was a man of irrepressible high spirits which were infectious. His parents were Vaudevillians and he got that from them, the showman stuff; probably in his time he was right to do it, to do the old soft shoe for the Aryan race, it certainly raised his profile and got him interviewed by Playboy, etc. But I was a man of a different temperament and nature and I in the long run I never thought it could behoove us to be performing fleas.
It had been quite a session. I could tell that Pierce was in his element and could have gone on for hours reminiscing abut the old times. But he said it was time to stop and since we were back in the late 1960s—it was the Summer Of Love was it not?—it was time to untangle the tangled yarn of how he came to create what was his real legacy, beyond the words---the National Alliance.
Continued at Pierce (Part Four)
Pierce (Part Three)
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Douglas Mercer
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