Don’t trust this Charlatan

 

“Stay with me here for a minute. I’m going to tell you something that sounds crazy….” Wow-just-wow. This is how they keep you in the Matrix, alt-reichateers, superfluously reveling in the soy-laden tears these kinds of non-events always provoke.

Scott Adams is an admitted hypnosis aficionado who has books and speaking engagements to sell. He knows that Kanye West is a typically impressionable, egomaniacal boogie with a huge Twatter following, who will retweet the living shit out of any smarty-pants cracka who tosses his salad a little; and that the pyramid-scheme caliber of people who follow him will be the first to fall for this shit-tier faux-esoteric slight of hand. If Kanye West is “bringing you the golden age”—on Twitter, “altering reality” and “helping people break out of their mental prisons,” then not only are we dealing with prisons within prisons within prisons, but we’re well past the Golden Age. We missed it, we have to get off at the next stop and walk back a few miles, and what we’ll be looking for is Mad Max Does Johannesburg, where the wife and kiddo get crucified by we-wuz-kangs and the protagonist gets gang raped.

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Gaying Away the Prey, Part Trois

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an allegory of the power of acceptance

(Part 1 here, Part Deux here)

We’ve all heard the refrain:

“There’s no such thing as pure homo- or hetero- sexuality, because sexual preference is spectral, rather than a set of fixed categories.”

The problem with this assumption is that it treats man as monolithic, rather than as a complex suite of sometimes harmonious, sometimes competing impulses and imperatives arising from both genetics (including epigenetics) and environmental (including social) conditioning.

For example, I sometimes have thoughts of self-harm. These thoughts do not arise in response to social situations where I’m upset with myself or with someone else. They hit me quite out of the blue, every several weeks, and I find them momentarily quite disturbing, but basically tolerable. This has been going on for decades, and my theory is that these thoughts reflect my fear of real possibilities, with my brain’s fear-centers overzealously doing their job by magnifying them into eventualities, then taking the additional step of telling me to rip the proverbial band-aid clean off. I’ve never acted on these thoughts—as I mentioned, I find them disturbing, but not the least bit compelling.

Does this make me someone who is prone to self-harm? If those categories are spectral and not fixed, where do I fall on the spectrum? Supposing we all—every member of the species—harbor such thoughts in varying degrees. If the vast majority of us don’t experience them as compelling but find them revolting, never act upon them, and harbor a consistent and far stronger sense of imperative not to commit them, would it still be fair to say that we’re all relatively prone to self-harm, and that no truly fixed categories exist in this regard? Even if it were a true statement, would it be a fair or practically actionable one?

The mythologist Joseph Campbell recounts an ancient Persian myth about a couple who were so enamoured of their toddler offspring that they ate them, and were punished for it by the gods. Abraham, the patriarch of three religions, turned his bastard son and the boy’s mother out to die in the wilderness, and was ready to sacrifice his only heir. Anyone who is minimally self-aware and honest with themselves surely realizes that a great many unspeakable primordial impulses are latent in us, from murder, rape and incest to scapegoating, witch hunting and child sacrifice, but we only categorize people by those impulses who experience them frequently, with deep viscerality, and find them compelling. So pure heterosexuality exists as surely as people who don’t eat their young aren’t child-eaters.

Another problem with this refrain about sexuality being spectral and therefore not truly amenable to standard categorization is that it’s as much a rationale as a plain finding. In any case, the only time anybody feels the need to point it out strictly in regard to non-normative orientations is when they’re trying to assure themselves that they’re normal, (i.e., only a closeted dude who’s in bed with Larry ever says, “You know, there’s no such thing as a true homo, Larry.”) Like Tony Montana’s “Say goodnight to the bad guy” monologue in Scarface, the criminal likes to remind everyone else that in principle they’re no better than he is. Only after you’ve stolen something do you start to ask yourself, “Well, what is theft, really?”

But just as we all harbor certain icky, primordial impulses to some degree, our revulsion toward what we innately feel is repulsive in others is informed by what we ourselves feel ashamed of.

That’s why gay pride parades and now Pride Month are backed by Fortune 100 companies that sponsor compulsory diversity and sensitivity training. It’s why every elite-astroturfed media outlet machinates conspicuously to expose audiences to non-normative sexuality, and why California passed a law in 2012 requiring public schools to teach about “LGBT Americans” in every grade from K through 12. What’s good doesn’t require that anyone be convinced to accept it—other than a colonoscopy.

Shards of a Once-Thunderous Testimony

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Dr. Elsa Schneider

Just fuck me

Make me believe that you’re desperate for my touch and I’ll do anything

Drive my broken soul to a cubicle farm, cart dead bodies out of trailer parks

Wait tables, develop commercial estimates

Provide consistently excellent customer service

We’re given this fleeting breath of life in order to give testimony to the angels

to the gears of eternity

and stymied and chastised and beaten that we might preserve a last glimmer of defiance

I wanted to be a soldier, a stevedore, a shepherd, a coulda-been-a-contender

to give my gaze to Istanbul

and the source of the mighty river

But I gave myself—

a gargoyle, a shattered Jerusalem, a promise of silks—

to you

To lay my dreams upon your sacrificial alter

and bind your flaxen sheaf

and love you just a little longer

 

 

Sanctuary of Shamelessness

The secret of a master deal-maker

I never would’ve thought Donald Trump and Mahmoud Darwish had anything much in common, but hearing Trump make his announcement this morning recognizing Jerusalem as Israel’s capital reminded me of the same banality of holiness evoked in Darwish’s “A Soldier Dreams of White Lillies.”

Like anything—not least our 45th president—that poem has its flaws. Namely, it denies the reality of Jewish communion with the land, suggesting that a Jew disabused of vulgar nationalism can only abandon his community and quit the region. (But of course, the converse outcome is the aim of all “anti-extremism” initiatives, and in this sense the most toothless or even conciliatory Darwish can only be an extremist.) Not incidental to those flaws, the Arab threats of violence in this matter are frivolous, narcissistic and—above all—boring, even if they’re followed through upon. But then, so are Jewish complaints, and threats of counter-measures. At least primarily, to be Palestinian can only mean being anti-Israel, full of vengeance, resentment and wounds to loudly nurse. Likewise, to be Israeli necessarily and primarily (at least, but always, in practice) means being anti-Arab, anti-Christian, anti-Muslim, anti-Gentile; snide, superior, embittered, and conniving, like a diabolically scorned yenta—a characteristic that no amount of stoicism or machismo can ever absolve the Israelis of.

The first Arab riots against Zionist designs on Jerusalem were sparked in 1929 by allegations that the placement of a dozen chairs and a cloth mekhitza for elderly Jewish worshippers at the Western Wall was a prelude to the destruction of the al-Aksa mosque. As of 2017, fifty years of Israeli administration has entailed a great deal of covetous malfeasance, but not the slightest disrespect of the Noble Sanctuary. Yet the Muslims never tire of this pretext, and such outbreaks are veritably seasonal in Jerusalem, because—although Israel indeed steals their land little by little and suppresses them politically—the original Zionist provocation has always been assertiveness on the part of a non-Muslim minority. Political repression is par for the course in the mideast, with or without Israel, and in almost every Muslim land, some ethnic or religious minority is constrained to know its place, and know it well. 

Not incidentally, Jewish non-combatants are better protected today than they were in 1929, because a Palestinian protest is rarely just that, and international audiences witnessing Israeli troops fire tear gas canisters into throngs of Arab men don’t generally realize the appetite of the Palestinian resistance for violent confrontation is not limited by scruples regarding age, gender, or non-combatant status—nor, until quite recently, has it ever been readily divisible into violent and non-violent branches.

So for Trump to be deterred by the Arab street’s predictable reaction would be pusillanimous, regardless of whether his Jerusalem decision was a wise one. But the arbitration of highly sensitive religious matters by the star of The Apprentice may not be the biggest irony here. That among all the gravely concerned world leaders opposing him in the matter, the one whose objections carry the most moral force is the sinister pope, Francis—a gilded, pharisaical career accomplice to the foulest possible acts of sexual predation—is a commentary all its own. The conventional wisdom is that the international community indulges Israel and tolerates Palestinian suffering, but generally speaking, the extent of world outcry on the Palestinians’ behalf is greater, more sustained and less proportionate to the corollary offenses against them than any sympathy the Jews have ever managed to elicit, certainly from the Vatican, and including during the Holocaust. Massacre of Jews just feels too familiar to be condemned without nuance: a consensus that Israel ought to be prepared at all times to absorb a modicum of civilian casualties—without response, as a matter of course—exists among world bodies, governments, NGOs and news agencies that would never be so much as whispered to Muslims as a suggestion.

Since the Oslo Accords went into effect not only Hamas, Islamic Jihad, and the PFLP but the PLO (through its bad-cop Tanzim faction—essentially a death squad) has carried out dozens of attacks on Israeli civilians. So when PLO officials and PLO-affiliated scions of Palestinian civil society like Marwan Bishara, in his capacity as a TV host for Al Jazeera, warn that bloodshed will result from Trump’s recognition of Jerusalem as Israel’s capital, they aren’t forecasting the weather—they’re making a threat. Of course they don’t mean to be understood this way by anyone but the Jews. Surely (to some degree) they don’t even understand themselves this way, because the Palestinians are always supposed, and suppose themselves, to lack agency. Like the dozen chairs which provoked them to a frenzy of murder in 1929, they don’t think, they only react. Supposing we grant this premise, then when Ismail Haniyeh warns that Trump has “opened the gates of hell” with his decision: who are the demons?

But if the Muslims are evil to covet Jerusalem, the Jews are evil for clinging to it, and ought to be put in mind of an Arab proverb: “Where there is concession, there is strength.” For what is Jerusalem? I recall it as a dusty, mildewy disappointment, like a woman who has to be gazed from a very peculiar angle to be thought beautiful; the Dome of the Rock as a lid rattling precariously atop a broiling, apoplectic sense of entitlement; the Holy Sepulcher as a dreary, vulgar little tourist trap akin to an amusement park haunted house. And the Western Wall? That Jews should venerate and kill and be killed for that stupid, ugly pile of bricks left behind by Herod—a sadistic Quisling—is the very definition of idolatry that Judaism once cut its teeth rooting out.

So I don’t use the word “evil” lightly. Israeli administration of Jerusalem has from the very beginning involved strategically needless property theft, selective destruction of historical sites and expulsion of innocent people from their homes. In 2007, this was ratcheted up to the worst form of desecration: the wholesale removal of medieval Muslim graves to a trash dump and their replacement by a Wiesenthal “Museum of Human Dignity” (seriously) atop the former grounds of the Mamilla Cemetery, just over the Green Line from the Old City. But Israel’s “unified eternal capital” is, indeed, an interactive museum, teetering precariously on the nape of what normal, everyday life still manages to persist there. It belongs in the same general category as Florida’s Holy Land Experience, or the Kentucky Creation Museum, but at least those institutions’ proprietorship doesn’t require recurring blood sacrifice (or grave robbery.) There is so beauty in Israel, but to the extent the place is ugly, it’d be a lot less so without the Old City of Jerusalem and the mischief that the coveting of holy relics always inspires:

Reductio ad Iudaeoram, Pt. IV

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Comes in handy

(Part I here, Part II here, Part III here)

One upshot to the profusion of online Hitler sympathy this past decade is that it shows how brittle American liberal indoctrination really is, despite its insidiousness. Of course, it also shows that older habits tend to die harder.

To wit: every now and again some earnest little yid blogger pokes his head up on an alt-right podcast and tries to explain that we’re not all that bad—while agreeing that indeed, we are all that bad. It’s a bit like playing dead: contrition itself is supposed to be a point in the Jews’ defense.

Now, if your experience tells you that Jews are oily, pushy, whiny, loud, snide, solipsistic and cheap, well…. Join the club: so does mine (though only a couple of those apply to me). Perhaps you live in a community somewhere back east where the ethnic fault lines are long standing, and over the decades each of the local constituencies has made a certain impression on its neighbors—well and good. If it’s a matter of navigating daily life and real relationships, stereotype away, for all I care. But when we refer here to anti-semitism, what we mean is the full-retard pamphleteering variety, a worldview mediated secondhand, a partial flight of fancy:

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Though it exposes me as a third-rate intellectual at best, that much is already quite obvious, so I’ll go ahead and quote the late Christopher Hitchens in this connection:

The Nazis thought of Slavs and Gypsies as racial inferiors by all means, but the organizing principle of their racism, the thing that gave it its energy and its consistency was the hatred of the Jew….. Would it be believed by anybody, if it was said that all the Armenians left the World Trade Center before the planes hit, or all the Irish? I don’t think so. It has to be the Jews, it’s not exciting if it’s not. It would be a mere vulgar prejudice; there’s not enough traction and grit and flavor to it, unless it’s the real thing.

Again: if experience recommends wariness of a given human group, then be wary—end of story. Self-defense, after all, is a dish best served cold, and sparingly. And xenophobia is clearly evolutionary—it needs no laborious rationale, no theory, no social approval. But for the full-retard anti-ZOG pamphleteer, there’s no adrenaline in that, no hard-on, no quasi-mystical shivers. For them, the case is so open-and-shut they can never shut up about it.

Henry Kissinger once said that a people that’s been persecuted for 2,000 years is doing something wrong. A certain Luke would beg to differ that being persecuted necessarily means you’re in the wrong, but he didn’t much like Jews, either. In any case, a people that beats those kinds of odds has also got to be doing something right.

All the same, you might think it would be worthwhile for the Jews’ own sake to at least engage with their worst critics and try to learn something from them. But hesitance to fully recognize hostility can only play as sycophancy. Indeed, when you reach out to full-retard anti-semites (lots of those abroad in the world nowadays) what you’re invariably going to find is that the burden of proof falls exclusively upon the semite. Your every overture is taken both as subterfuge and servility. Your every word short of utter self-abnegation amounts to proof of incorrigibility, no matter what you’ve conceded—and so does self-abnegation. There is literally nothing that can be proved to these types. Perhaps you share alt-right or far-left concerns about the complicity of Jews in systems of power you oppose, but that’s never how anti-semites see you, and the only effective way to deal with execration is with a grin, and a middle finger. Full-retard anti-semitism (right or left) is not about opposing systems of power per se; rather, it is the vocation of finding fault with yidden. It’s a manichaean template that confers total absolution from shame, and earnestness is poison when you’re dealing with a shameless interlocutor. As soon as you give him the time of day, you’re taking on all the shame in the equation.

Take, for example, the following aside (~29:00-30:00) from alt-right agitator Mike Enoch on that episode of The Daily Shoah podcast I hyperlinked above (the one with the yiddle-diddle blogger guest interviewee.) Here Enoch’s talking about the HBO series Curb Your Enthusiasm:

We had this conversation today where we were talking about Larry David, that fucking stupid show where he runs around being Jewish…. and someone [some fellow anti-semite] was like, ‘Oh no, but it’s hilarious because he’s so Jewish [that] he’s fucking over even other Jews.‘ And I’m like, yeah, but at some point I just want to be done with this Jewish psychological shit, I don’t want to be sucked into this world of the Jewish fucking inner turmoil, I just want to be done with it.

Um…. excuse me? You guys are the ones with a three-times weekly podcast called The Daily Shoah (“shoah”=Hebrew for Holocaust) that’s going on its 200th episode at 2+ hours apiece, and in every single one, you discuss Jews at length. No schtick fatigue? I get that plutocrats and media mandarins are disproportionately Jewish, that such power ought to be accessible to satire, and I can at least respect the alt-right for its irreverence, but…. You “want to be done“? The fuck outta here. What would you even do with yourselves at that point?

Someone who claims to have caught a whiff of sulfuric old Beelzebub is liable to be reminded that whoever smelt it dealt it (it’s called negative transference.) Yet the self-flagellating little yid blogger guest on the podcast ends up agreeing with Enoch about yiddishkeit in showbiz: “Right, this is 2% of the population, why is this the thing that’s being constantly put in front of us?” I don’t know, why are there so goddamned many steers in Texas? In the words of the great Marshall McLuhan: if you’re seeing it, it’s for you. Someone got you straightjacketed to a theater seat? Lots of options what to watch nowadays. Last I checked, HBO is premium cable. So I’ve heard a lot of anti-semitic tropes in my day, but as these things go, “wanting to be done with the Jewish inner turmoil” that’s “sucking me in” is revealingly bizarre. Whether it’s only tortured logic, or also tortured, sub-rosa yiddishkeit, what it reveals about anti-semitism is the same.

Back in the mid-aughts I was sitting around one weekend with a friend—also Jewish—smoking something stupid and watching one of the hundreds of conspiracy documentaries then mushrooming on the new-fangled YouTube. Up until that time, my conception of Jewish success was that it confirmed the old stereotype about Jewish brains. But due to events like 9/11, the NSA spying scandals and the 2008 financial crisis it was starting to become painfully clear that the height of success in America is something profoundly dark, and that one’s ethnic group being disproportionately implicated in it can be a very bad thing. At one point during the documentary, my friend turned to me and asked, “How are we supposed to cope with the fact that we come from a race of deceivers?”

You might ascribe that sentiment to the influence of drugs, or to half-baked YouTube documentaries. But would you know who agrees with it? Larry David. Here’s how David treated the Weinstein/#MeToo scandal in the opening monologue of a recent episode of Saturday Night Live he hosted (executive summary here):

What’s awkward about this performance? It isn’t the references to sex, or to genocide. It isn’t the uncouthness, or even David’s openness to discomfort. No, what’s awkward about this performance is its sincerity, its utter lack of irony. It’s a public service announcement concealed behind only the most implausible veneer of comedy. Larry David means exactly what he says: he reflexively feels that allegations against a handful of fellow Jews reflect on him, fundamentally. And what’s ironic about the tenebrous self-awareness he exhibits is not some corollary intellectual benefit, but that it’s avoidable, unnecessary, and entirely self inflicted. A gallery of perennially offended professional Jews squawked a bit online the week after this performance, but that’s because they suffer from the same pathology that David does—they aren’t mad because they disagree with what he said, they’re mad because he said it—they feel that he reflects on them, same as David feels about Weinstein. The assumption of responsibility for another person’s crime speaks to a need to feel rejected in order to feel validated. This is why the vindictive sniveling inherent in so much of Judaism locks Jews into a sadomasochistic relationship with anti-semites—the Purim and (to a lesser extent) Passover holidays are great examples of this. (Only Hanukkah represents a genuine triumph of the will.) So unless you limit your Judaism to a given understanding of the divine, an answer to the need for a certain modicum of ritual, and communion with your ancestors, you’ll always be spinning your wheels in a mud puddle of Talmudic agony like some kind of OCD sufferer. (By the way—I don’t know too much Talmud, but I know there’s at least one volume of it that ought to be as popular as the Gospels or the Tao te Ching. It’s called Pirke Avot. Check it out sometime. Guide for the Perplexed is also very good, for similar reasons.)

Professional Jew Jeffrey Goldberg typifies this masochism. I’ve bagged on him here before, so I hate to do it twice, but he’s just too typical. As a teenager, he served as an MP in the IDF (that part’s atypical), then came back to the US and wrote a stupid memoir about his one-sided friendship with a Palestinian terrorist he guarded in a military jail, entitled Prisoners: A Muslim and a Jew Across the Middle East Divide. The tone-deafness of the title (equating a gaoler with his charge, conflating people’s religion with their entire being) is bad enough. Per the NY Times review:

Rafiq Hijazi [is] the Muslim of the book’s title. The story of their unusual and complicated friendship is at the core of Prisoners, weaving its way through the narrative like a serpentine question mark. It begins with their meeting in 1991 at Ketziot, the Israeli prison filled with thousands of Palestinians arrested during the first Intifada. Rafiq (Fatah-affiliated and deeply religious) was Goldberg’s ”favorite” prisoner. ”I wanted to make Rafiq my friend,” he says. ”I liked that he had the dispassion of an analytical academic in a place notable for its absence of thought. He also had an open-mindedness that to me was a clear sign of inner benevolence.” After their first conversation—separated by a fence—Goldberg had ”a feeling of connection. It was a strange and traitorous feeling, but it was also a true feeling, and it was accompanied by a satisfying frisson of danger and dissent.”

He could be describing an illicit love affair. Except, more than once, and increasingly so as their relationship is tested against the backdrop of violent political developments, it appears to be a case of unrequited love—Rafiq does not seem to be in need of their friendship. They continued to meet, over many years, in different places: at Rafiq’s parents’ home in Gaza, in Washington, where they both lived with their wives and where Rafiq was completing a Ph.D. in statistics, later in Abu Dhabi. There were also frequent long breaks between their meetings, especially after Rafiq—who, Goldberg tells us, had become a fundamentalist—announced that he would not demonstrate against suicide bombings or when he said that if he had to kill his friend, ”it wouldn’t be personal.”

Goldberg is invariably the one to make the next approach: ”I was raised to search out the familiar in the stranger, on the theory that we are all alike. I looked for the familiar in Rafiq, and found it.” The almost pathetic one-sidedness of this friendship, the need to be accepted, liked and understood not only by Rafiq but by other, less moderate political enemies (”I was fascinated by them”) would be almost moving if it didn’t point so obviously back to the old trauma of the rejection by the anti-Semitic bullies in that Long Island playground. Beneath the physical pain and the humiliation, there was always the perennial Jewish question: Why don’t they like me?

Who gives a shit? Does Rafiq have this problem, this tortured relationship with gods and men? Of course not. Rafiq has a proper respect for his place in the natural order of things. His “analytic academic’s dispassion” is a tool, not a ball-and-chain. But at least Jeffrey Goldberg has a choice about whether and what kind of ball and chain to carry around. Not all Jews have been so lucky.

Mihail Sebastian was a Romanian-Jewish linguist and novelist who kept a diary of life in Romania between 1935 and 1944. The manuscript was smuggled to Israel by his brother in 1961 and eventually published as a book after the Cold War. What’s interesting about it is that many fellow Romanian intellectuals whom the author maintained friendships with were vehemently pro-Nazi. According to a 2001 book review in The Irish Times, Sebastian had a remarkable tendency to make excuses for them:

Sebastian’s friend, the charismatic philosopher and teacher Nae Ionescu, who enthusiastically supported the Iron Guard, agreed to write a preface to one of Sebastian’s novels, but when he did, it turned out to be vigorously anti-Semitic.

Ionescu warned the younger man against imagining that he could become assimilated into the gentile community, asking of him “Are you . . . a human being from Braila on the Danube? No, you are a Jew from Braila on the Danube.” Sebastian, in typical fashion, continued to look upon his friend and mentor with fondness, regarding him indulgently merely as a rogue and an opportunist whose heart nevertheless was in the right place; when Ionescu died prematurely in 1940, Sebastian wept in sorrow.

He even found excuses for his friend the novelist, and fascist, Camil Petrescu. When the private houses of Jews were confiscated by order of the government, Petrescu complained to Sebastian that he would probably not be given one; Sebastian said that surely, under the circumstances, his friend would not accept a house even if it were offered to him, at which Petrescu stared at him in surprise and asked: “Why not?”

The type of person who countenances this kind of treatment today will be a school shooter tomorrow, or a mental patient, or a Great Gatsby, but he’ll never be content. So is there anyone more pathetic than the person who devotes time and energy to authoring broadsides about his unmatched malevolence? Our next installment will be about Kevin MacDonald, and his acolytes.

In Defense of Bowe Bergdahl

Thanksgiving turkey

(See also: “In Defense of the Westboro Baptist Church” and “American Diaper“)

“Experiences of inner emptiness, loneliness, and inauthenticity are by no means unreal or, for that matter, devoid of social content; nor do they arise from exclusively ‘middle- and upper-class living conditions.’ They arise from the warlike conditions that pervade American society.” (Christopher Lasch, American historian, 1932-1994)

For at least the duration of this week, Bowe Bergdahl will remain the most hated man in red-state America. So far, the loudest voices denouncing him are the supporters of a sitting American president who, as a draft-eligible youth during Vietnam, received four deferments and a (probably) bogus medical disqualification from military service while other, less privileged young men went to war in his stead. Most of Bergdahl’s detractors will have never served in any military or, if they did, will never have deployed to a combat zone.

An acerbic remark about the President’s draft dodging was in the news two weeks ago. It was made by an admiral’s son who graduated at the bottom of his class at West Point; who, once in theater in Southeast Asia, was promptly captured and sang, like Bergdahl, for enemy propaganda. This admiral’s son was eventually released home and a (probably) false narrative of heroism was promulgated as he rose to a seat in the US Senate, while hundreds of his fellow POWs were left behind—a disgrace he has been at the forefront of covering up for decades. Like the President, the Senator sends US servicemen to die for sordid reasons that will never be clarified to the American public. But most of Bergdahl’s detractors won’t get too animated about that.

From what can be gathered on his Wikipedia page, Bowe Bergdahl is an omega-male eccentric: homeschooled, vaguely artistic, brought up in a splinter sect church but with a fetish for Buddhism and delusions of sauntering off into the wide Mohammedan vistas of Central Asia like some kind of Great Game cartographer.

Here is what he emailed home shortly before being captured:

The future is too good to waste on lies…. In the US army you are cut down for being honest, but if you are a conceited brown nosing shit bag you will be allowed to do what ever you want, and you will be handed your higher rank… I am ashamed to be an american…. The US army is the biggest joke the world has to laugh at. It is the army of liars, backstabbers, fools, and bullies…. We don’t even care when we hear each other talk about running [Afghan] children down in the dirt streets with our armored trucks…. I am sorry for everything. The horror that is america is disgusting.

Jaundiced, subliterate vomitus. Still, it contains little in the way of outright falsehood. But if a narcissist is someone who conceptualizes himself as the star of his own movie (“The future is too good to waste”) then the character Bergdahl is playing is Rambo with a lisp, and the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Here is what his father wrote back:

OBEY YOUR CONSCIENCE!

Dear Bowe, In matters of life and death, and especially at war, it is never safe to ignore ones’ conscience. Ethics demands obedience to our conscience. It is best to also have a systematic oral defense of what our conscience demands. Stand with like minded men when possible. Dad.

¡Conscience!

Conscience? That’s the last thing you need in the army. Bergdahl the Elder (a typical exponent of the kind of hippy-confederate pretense to self-reliance so common in the late-American cycle) is essentially advising junior not to reimburse gangsters he willfully borrowed money from. Bowe’s wrong about the Ugly American, too: what’s peculiarly disgusting about Americanness is not compulsive rule-following or callous disregard for human life (those things are universal.) Rather, it’s the coquettish insistence on enjoying complicity and rebellion simultaneous.

When I was in the Israeli army I got butt-hurt about something and went AWOL for a week. I rode into Jerusalem and left my bag and rifle in a locker at a youth hostel, but I didn’t want to be there either, so I went for a jog.

It was late. It was dark. After running four or five miles, I realized that the Dome of the Rock was peering at me from an angle it never had before. I emerged out of darkness into a well-lit intersection. Packs of male teenagers were roughhousing on street corners. Cabs and delivery drivers with unfamiliar license plates were stalled up and down the curb. The smelly runoff from dumpsters and shawarma-joint mop buckets mingled in the gutters. Waddling matrons in hijabs were taking advantage of the evening reprieve from the summer heat to do their grocery shopping at vendors’ stalls. The storefronts were lit up in neon Arabic.

I had wandered, unarmed and alone, into Palestine (well, Baba Zahara, technically within Israeli jurisdiction, but still a Hamas hotbed.) A callow, bourgeois existentialist, I didn’t know who I really was, and when I did, the conviction was fleeting. But if the people on that street had noticed me—or, if I hadn’t gotten out of there swiftly in the direction from which I’d come—they’d have known perfectly well who I was, and things would have turned out very, very bad for me.

Of course, war pervades the middle east, but “war-like conditions” pervade America. What does that mean? Deception is the essence of war, but what is the essence of America? You can see it in Times Square, in a Hollywood picture, a philanthropic campaign or public apology. What characters are more quintessentially American than the huckster, the shill, the confidence man, the philandering or money grubbing preacher, the motivational charlatan, the tycoon?

The first white men who settled this continent came in search of freedom: cash crops, real estate, Montezuma’s coffers. Slaves. The freedom of finder’s keepers. The freedom to fuck, suck, eat and shit. Freedom isn’t free—it has to be strong-armed, unfortunately. If she didn’t have all that oil, we wouldn’t have needed to invade ‘er. True, many of the Indians were no better to each other; and subsequent waves of immigrants escaping to these shores came largely for prosaic reasons, if not sordid ones. What savior, what savant, what Dostoevsky Idiot can rightly demand any redress of grievances now? For example, today the curtain is being peeled back on the world of American pederasty. Bravo. But the father of American pederasty was Horatio Alger.

In summarizing the film American Beauty, a once verbally-unchastened Louis CK put it aptly:

Kevin Spacey playing the man… he’s fantasizing about fucking a cheerleader in high school, and the way they represent this, in this gay movie, this fucking bunch of cum through a projector—according to this movie, when you fantasize about a cheerleader, you lie on your back and rose petals fall all over your body. Instead of her hot, sweaty ass, and the confused look on her face as you cum in her stupid eye…. No, it’s Kevin Spacey with a sweet look on his face, and flower petals, and jazzy music.

[And at the end of the movie, the ex-Marine] is the one who’s really gay. ‘None of us are gay, it’s actually the one hetero guy, he’s the gay one.’ No one else is gay, Kevin Spacey’s not gay. He’s straight as an arrow, he lifts weights, listens to Zeppelin, drives a Firebird—and thinks about fucking rose petals. And then when he actually sees her tits he almost vomits…. He finally sees the 18 year old tits and says, what have I been doing all this time? I forgot I like men….

If the makers of American Beauty (such as Clinton confidante Harvey Weinstein, the film’s exec-producer) can glorify pederasty and drug-dealing, but can’t forgive an ex-Marine, it’s because “it belongs to human nature to hate whom we have injured.” But the consignment of combat veterans to poverty, derangement and indifference is an effect, not the cause of injury. The Bergdahl case illustrates this in ways we might not like to know.

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Love wins

The last American to be tried and executed for dissertation, during WWII, was found guilty of escaping from danger (near the front lines), back into safety (in a liberated area of France.) Bowe Bergdahl, on the other hand, spurned safety and traipsed off into incredible danger. To treat this extraordinary incident strictly as a commentary on the stupidity or moral turpitude of Bergdahl himself is to miss its significance entirely; rather, it’s an indication of how suffocatingly padded, litigious, infantilized and delusional American life has become. A system that automizes, “utilizes,” and pathologizes people, and measures them by “metrics,” can offer young men for fodder, but cannot let them be men. On the far-flung rugged terrain of Afghanistan this vaginized baby-sitter regime only trebles its emphasis on procedure and safety and unthinking.

But how would a green recruit know that in advance? Not only is Hollywood not gonna tell him, no one in his community will, either: scarcely 1% of Americans have or ever will serve in the US military, and if they aren’t keeping their mouths shut about it, they’re probably blowing smoke (bravely, I might add.) But if Bowe Bergdahl did just eight hours of guard duty, he did 8000% more than most any of the rest of us. Sure, he got people killed and injured looking for him; everyone else is content to let others be injured and killed in our place. Bergdahl’s crime is not being a bigger piece of shit than most other Americans, it’s being exactly as big a piece of shit, with the added feature of bad timing.

That most of his colleagues in the combat arms represent a greater or lesser exception to this goes without saying. So certainly there is a characteristically American kind of honor—there has to be, it provides fodder for the other penguins to shove into the water. But Sun Tzu was wrong when he said the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. In America, our enemies are one another, they’re everywhere, and the supreme art of war is to get them to fight your battles for you. To obfuscate, intimidate or disconcert and get something for nothing while the mark blames himself. Maybe I deserved it. Maybe I secretly wanted it. I didn’t fight hard enough. I saved my objections for the staircase. I had no choice. I’ll find a way to compensate. At least I wasn’t the only one. Conscience is freedom’s truest enemy.

The grasping protagonist of Borges’ The Immortal is a legionnaire who says “I barely glimpsed the face of Mars [and] that privation grieved me, and was perhaps why I threw myself into the quest, through vagrant and terrible deserts, for the City of the Immortals.” How much flailing braggadocio is likewise expended by American men who will never feel truly tested, vindicated or individuated? That weaselly energy has got to profit somebody in this land of second chances, where Jesus is Lord, insurance is mandatory and Budweiser urges you to drive responsibly. Where once we came fleeing persecution or poverty, today, with nowhere else to go, we try (and fail) to escape from ourselves. Profligacy, obesity, overdoses, dropouts, car crashes, rap sheets, rejection, one-night stands, bullying and being bullied, chicken-shittery of every variety. That’s not who I really am. But its perpetrators are the soldiers of the real America, where around the Thanksgiving table and in mommy’s waiting embrace, all is validated, all is tolerated, and all is forgiven. So why not Bowe Bergdahl? In the words of Al Pacino’s Tony Montana in Scarface, “You need people like me so you can point your fucking fingers.”

Dear Father X

Uncouth reflections

Dear Father X,

I feel that in matters of the heart, of which faith surely is one, we must be unfailingly honest. Yet I’m afraid there is nothing I could say to you with perfect honesty, because to do so would be to malign your faith, and faith of any kind is sacred, and what is sacred must be honored, even if it is only sacred to others.

Does Christianity prescribe such respect for other faiths? On the contrary, it demands their obliteration. To the extent this renders frankness only on my part uncouth and fruitless, I regard you warily. Yet because your life’s enterprise also involves the promulgation of beauty and compassion in this world, and the transmission of ancient wisdom, I believe it must be defended.

My wife would like you to baptize our son. She cannot comprehend what this means for a Jew, and our common scriptures forbid me from putting a stumbling block in front of the blind. Then there is the matter of the Golden Rule: how can I deny a sacrament to a believer, even if it’s a sacrilege for me? I suppose you don’t need me to tell you that ethics sometimes trump confessional fidelity, and love sometimes trumps law. Christianity talks a big game on both counts, yet I wouldn’t expect a serious Christian to take my feelings seriously in this matter, and my only consolation is to remind myself that in any case, no man can know the mind of God.

It isn’t that I regard my particular faith as realer than yours or anyone’s. What if we all err in roughly equal proportion, and need one other to make up the difference? I’ve heard tales of miracles from adherents of every faith tradition, and it would be as easy for a man of no faith to dismiss them utterly as it is difficult for a man of true faith to dismiss any of them.

When I was a child, some antediluvian spirit drew me to the Hebrew scriptures, which spoke to me directly: Jacob and the Angel, Joseph in Egypt, Moses and the Burning Bush, Joshua at Jericho, Samuel’s visit to Jesse, David’s flight from Saul, Solomon asking for wisdom, Daniel in the Lion’s Den, Ezekiel in the Valley of the Dry Bones. These legends seemed to contain a lost key—an inkling of eternity.

So I’m not concerned here with historicity, nor to pit revelation against revelation. Rather, my concern is to salvage something from the death of god. In this, I do not deny but rather affirm that the Christian dispensation has its place. Yet you ask me, essentially, to forsake my fathers, to compromise my most fundamental integrity at the spearhead of their accumulated wisdom and experience, and extinguish the flickering entrée to eternity they handed down to me. Even if Christian theology is correct in every respect and Judaism is entirely in error—can it be possible to respect a doctrine that demands such things of others? Even if this doesn’t violate the letter of the First Commandment, it violates its spirit, and strikes me as perfectly analogous to Ivan Karamazov’s suggestion that the edifice of human happiness be build upon the foundation of the torture and unrequited tears of a single, innocent creature. But I think more of Christianity—like Judaism, it forbids flexibility of conscience.

Your scriptures claim there is neither Jew nor Greek, but if not for the distinction of family and tribe, where would we derive the very experience of solidarity that might then be applied to the stranger? It seems to me Rabbi Hillel’s resolution for that paradox represents the limit of our capacity to deal with it. Both Christianity’s promises and its expectations seem to me outlandish. But again, supposing I’m in error somehow, so what? Who isn’t? The journey is more important than the destination, and Jewish dialectic tension and intellectual agonizing cannot be salved but only extinguished by Christian grace.

There have long been many who believe this would be for the best, but they’re rarely forthright about it—they euphemize, prevaricate, and always seem to drag a vaguely afflicted conscience around behind their intellectual levity. Perhaps it’s better to extinguish a candle than curse the darkness. But desecration is the essence of crime, and crime is not a matter of degrees, but of intent. So please don’t pretend that I’m missing something, or presume to suggest how easy it would be for me to overlook this or that, and rely on elided interpretations. What kind of belief would that be, anyhow? It’s unprincipled.

But enough of ontology. Regrettably, the politics here simply cannot be avoided. When has Christianity not been implicated in politics, in the most sordid affairs of this world? The pharisees of Gospel fame are classic figments of Freudian projection. And while the Tanakh does hold that “By Me kings reign, and rulers decree justice,” it also says He removes them, presumably not by airbrushing. So it doesn’t follow that “consequently, the one who resists authority is opposing what God has set in place.” Incidentally, when Jesus tells Pilate that “the one who handed me over to you is guilty of the greater sin,” it is curiously sycophantic. Love thine enemy, turn the other cheek, render unto Caesar. This isn’t morality, it’s a civics lesson. Is it any wonder that for eighteen centuries this creed unified and palliated in precisely the same proportion as it endeared coachman to duke, reduced the slave before his driver, and blessed the condemned with his executioner in the same breath? Because much of the message of the Gospels’ Jesus to the Jews is to cease resisting Rome. Certainly this is the only way that Luke 19 can be given a coherent reading.

But what good is it to wrestle with spiritual wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12) if only Jesus is not required to ask nicely? No Christian people smarting under an infidel yoke has or ever will be condemned from any pulpit as graspers and sensualists simply for taking up arms in defense of their freedom to worship. Christianity has never enjoined anyone but the Jews to lay down their arms in such a predicament. Back when the Church intended to vanquish or at least defend itself the Muslims, at least it accepted the necessity of fighting them.

Growing up Jewish, they beat you over the head so much with tales of persecution that in modern times, it all takes on an allegorical quality, or that of a horror story. Until I was an adult, anti-semitism—vehement, full-hilt anti-semitism—was something I understood only dryly. But once I’d encountered enough of it, I had to wonder what it would mean if such sentiments were pervasive, and when I asked myself that question I realized, viscerally, all of a sudden, what sheer intransigent execration—its precipitous depth—my ancestors endured, in spite of how easy it would have been for them to break and be done with it as you now enjoin me to do.

Though he was more of a christian—that is to say, a railing, outlandish perfectionist—than he supposed, Nietzsche said it more strikingly:

Every Jew possesses in the history of his fathers and grandfathers a great fund of examples of the coldest self-possession and endurance in fearful situations, of the subtlest outwitting and exploitation of chance and misfortune; their courage beneath the cloak of miserable submission, their heroism in spernere si sperni surpasses the virtues of all the saints…. and the virtues which pertain to all who suffer have likewise never ceased to adorn them. (Dawn of Day, 205)

The irony of this—that it is the Jew in history who most conforms to the Christ archetype, even as he resembles Judas—ought to produce a wincing mortification in any introspective Christian. You say you wish to see the Jews perfected, but isn’t it you who seek to be perfected through us?

Can it be a coincidence that the Church has seen its sharpest decline in public prestige and moral legitimacy only since the emancipation of the Jews? So thoroughly is the faith predicated on the negation of Judaism that any Jew’s conversion represents its ultimate legitimation. No penitent drunk or gap-toothed Papuan’s baptism could ever serve to vindicate Christianity like the chastened, exhausted collapse of a Hebrew before the smug mercy of his ancestors’ tormentors. Yet without recourse to project inner foreboding upon we recalcitrants—as if into a spittoon—St. Augustine’s advice to “seek not abroad” had finally to be taken, and we don’t much like when the abyss gazes back into us now, do we?

Anyone can see how few self-supposed Christians are keen to really take up the Great Commission now that it threatens to cost them just a fraction of what it once did at Rome. More of the redeemed gave up their lives in those days than are willing to give up Instagram and a matching 401(k) in ours. But you are someone who has taken it up, and if I thought I could tell you any of what I’m writing down now, I have no doubt we would relate to one another preternaturally, you as spurned priest and I as execrated Jew, locked in antagonistic yet mutual, ascetical love and fear of the Almighty. My ultimate enemy, like yours, is Mammon and his priests, the rulers of the darkness of this world, and my own corollary impulses. Of course, a true friend will be the enemy of our enemy. So while I’m not holding out for your blessing, neither would I refuse it.

Sincerely,

O

Peak Degeneracy

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Spot the non-manjaw

It seems there will never be a time when some half-wit somewhere isn’t being taken in by the Semitic prime mover theory of history, but as I’ve argued here before, the movement alt-right is effectively undead, having shot its exuberant wad in the aftermath of the 2016 presidential election, when it momentarily entered the glorious street-fray against the genderfluid and semantically-woke handicapped.

Occasionally I see debate on alt-right forums about whether or not Richard Spencer is some kind of shill. The respective positions taken are generally as follows:

(1) Spencer is indeed a deep-cover spook provocateur; or

(2) Spencer is espousing his ideas sincerely.

I want to suggest a third possibility: that Spencer is both a shill, and sincere.

Of course, “shill” is imprecise. Obviously he’s getting his money from somewhere, and being afforded media coverage for some reasons. We can always go deep rabbit hole about this if we want to: is the alt-right a puppet show, or an idea whose time has come? But those possibilities aren’t mutually exclusive. In any case, the question just brings us back to first principles, i.e., what are we really talking about when we talk about the alt-right?

Well, to a large degree we’re talking about explicit white identity, which is a flimsy basis for mutual commitment and self-sacrifice outside of prison, or other such dire circumstances. To the extent that circumstances are dire, I certainly support it, such as I am able being an unwelcome half-breed loner outlier. But class, status, personality and philosophical differences will always be impediments to this kind of unity. Shared fear and loathing are far more powerful unifiers than anything really affirmative. So who do white nationalists consider their greatest enemy? You might want to review Borat for clues.

A quick thought experiment: if we could remove the Jewish Question from alt-right consideration, leaving every other alt-right premise intact, would the movement remain fundamentally unchanged?

Of course not. The JQ is a street-cred litmus test. But when xenophobia (which is healthy, evolutionary, and should require no laborious rationale or social approval) starts coming packaged with demonologic rationalization, then we’re either looking at a reaction against a violent cultural hegemony, or we’re looking at negative transference. More likely both. It doesn’t take any great genius to see that the alt-right is basically American Roadshow trying to pass for Mad Men, with motorcycle goggles and leather-bound classics just for decoration. “Unite the Right” leaders speaking out in the wake of Charlottesville were correct: only a controlled media bent on eliminating any dissent that can’t be cöopted could possibly treat them as a serious menace. They just aren’t serious people, and neither is their message: the cataclysm is immanent, the sensual negro is at the gate, the Jew is making me so dirty. Which may all be true, but it only resonates for the same reason 50 Shades appealed to so many capricious women.

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“He’s gotta be strong/and he’s gotta be fast/and he’s gotta be fresh from the fi-ight”

Reductio ad Iudaeoram, Pt. III

We are all Palestinians

(Part I here, Part II here; Part IV here)

Almost all Palestinians who fink on other Palestinians to the Israeli security services do so in a limited manner under some form of duress. At worst, they do it for money. Mosab Hassan Yousef, on the other hand, is the only Palestinian to have betrayed his people wholesale, and voluntarily. This is typical: most peoples can count their historic traitors on one hand. After all, betraying us won’t make you one of them. It only nullifies you.

Essential human qualities—those that come from before—are intractable. Others define them for us. The best we can do is to live out the verdict with dignity. Do Jews tend to manage this very well? I’d laugh, but there’s a stabbing pain in my ribcage (both sides.)

In our previous installment, we were introduced to one Henry Makow, a Jew who, though he isn’t exactly an apostate, feels anything but warm and fuzzy about his heritage. Mr. Makow runs a conspiracy webzine where he alleges that, because (1) prominent Jews and Jewish interests are complicit in a global Satanic bankers’ conspiracy, (2) conspicuous Jewish opposition to that conspiracy would conciliate anti-semitism. I’ll readily grant the first of these two contentions: Weinstein, Epstein, Goldman Sachs, that punk Kushner—pretty greasy stuff. But what about Makow’s second contention?

Well, we know for a fact that there is indeed conspicuous Jewish opposition to the planetary managerial class. There are Jewish journalists, activists and academics who denounce the powers that be, in part or in whole. There are mainstream Jewish authors and historians whose research provides excellent fodder for those on the fringes who are willing to draw bolder conclusions. There are Jewish conspiracy theorists of Makow’s ilk. There are even Jews who beat their breasts denouncing Zionism wholesale and condemning Jewishness and Judaism in all its forms but the most prophetical, pusillanimous and pacifistic.

Does any of this ameliorate anti-semitism? Of course not. Anti-semitism is the conviction that Jewishness itself is immutable and fundamentally odious. (Antipathy toward Jews short of that threshold, I’m not defining here as anti-semitism.) From that perspective, Jewish opposition to any or all of the powers that be, and even to Zionism, is taken as strategic retreat, controlled opposition or ethnic obfuscation. For full-hilt anti-Semites (not a few of those abroad in the world nowadays) a Jew’s every word short of utter self-abnegation equals dissembling, or proof of incorrigibility—for chrissakes, that’s Internet 101.

In my lifetime, I’ve experienced anti-semitism mostly as a subdued curiosity, lurking in the form of the incorrigible ease with which Jewish culpability can be accepted in various quarters as sufficient explanation for complex and sundry events. But as I grew older and my own material for observation increased, I slowly began to realize that where Jews are disdained and suspected in this manner it is a continuation, never a fresh perspective or a novel analysis. Granted, I’ve habituated to taking accusations of anti-semitism with a grain of salt, because the ancient prejudice appeared to have been so throughly routed in the late 20th century, and because many Jews can be quite oversensitive. But over the past decade and a half of palpable civilizational decline, the attendant profusion of anti-semitic sentiment has given me an inkling of what it must have been like for my father’s people to weather this execration in overt form, day by day, generation after generation. I don’t that these people were holy innocents, but being blamed for the plague is a bit much.

It had been many years since I read Sartre’s Anti-Semite and Jew when I saw it quoted recently in an article about the alt-right:

Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past. It is not that they are afraid of being convinced. … If then, as we have been able to observe, the anti-Semite is impervious to reason and to experience, it is not because his conviction is strong. Rather his conviction is strong because he has chosen first of all to be impervious.

Granted, these are mere field notes, not hard science: Sartre’s remarks could apply to many progressives I’ve debated with about race and gender (arguing in bad faith, giving ridiculous reasons, etc.) But for a current example of the kind of moving-target anti-semitic logic he’s referring to specifically, I’ve dug up an article from an alt-right blog called Aryan Skynet, entitled “Global Rat-Perch: Jewish Misdirection in the Work of Michel Chossudovsky.”

Chossudovsky is an academic and the editor of an obscure anti-war, anti-neoliberal web journal called Global Research. The authors of the article first commend Chossudovsky for his anti-war reporting, but they take him to task for his analysis of Israeli culpability in US imperialism, which they feel is overly lax toward Israel:

Chossudovsky acknowledges the existence of Israel’s nuclear arsenal and its collusion with the U.S.; but, for him, “Tel Aviv is not a prime mover” for intervention against Iran and “does not have a separate and distinct military agenda” from that of the Pentagon. Israel, for Chossudovsky, is only “part of a military alliance” – practically a pawn – that might “be used by Washington to justify, in the eyes of world opinion, a military intervention of the U.S. and NATO with a view to ‘defending Israel’, rather than attacking Iran.”

“Israel cannot launch a war against Iran without Washington’s consent. Hence the importance,” Chossudovsky avers, “of the so-called ‘Green Light’ legislation in the U.S. Congress sponsored by the Republican party under House Resolution 1553, which explicitly supports an Israeli attack on Iran.”

“In practice,” he continues, “the proposed legislation was a ‘green light’ to the White House and the Pentagon rather than to Israel” and “constitutes a rubber stamp to a U.S.-sponsored war on Iran which uses Israel as a…. pretext.”

Of course, if events ever prove this surmise correct, the gentlemen at Aryan Skynet will promptly develop amnesia so as to go on blaming Jews and Jews alone. But a more benign anti-semitism would simply recognize that the US-Israel relationship is a business partnership, and that if you get into business with Jews, they’re going to get their share. Of course it’s perfectly plausible that the US inner-elite has long term plans involving the removal of the present Iranian regime, that their priorities are different from Israel’s, and that Israel is the junior—and more malleable—party to the partnership. If so, then it’s obvious that Iranian aggression toward Israel (real, imagined, or in-between) will be the most likely pretext for US action.

But that’s not what Chossudovsky is alleging.

The authors are correct that Chossudovsky ignores manifest Israeli interests vis a vis Iran—but that’s because he doesn’t even credit the Israelis with having their own interests. When a leftist yid doesn’t recognize Jewish power, it’s because he’s not terribly interested in Jewish power. Rather, he’s mired in moralism and victimology:

The real culprits, Chossudovsky alleges, are the “Anglo-American oil giants.”

“The U.S.-led war in the broader Middle East Central Asian region consists in gaining control over more than sixty percent of the world’s reserves of oil and natural gas.” The best the professor can produce in the way of evidence for his claim is a Clinton-era National Security Statement citing the strategic interest of the U.S. in ensuring the security of Middle East oil reserves.

Well, that’s not bad evidence, and if it’s all Chossudovsky cites, it doesn’t mean there’s no additional evidence of long-term US geostrategic designs on the Eurasian landmass and its natural resources, designs to which Israeli concerns would obviously be subordinate. But if the authors of this critique (of Chossudovsky) can’t recognize Gentile powers and the interests of those parties, it’s because they, too are mired in moralism and victimology:

Dr. James Petras and Muhammad Idrees Ahmad have already lain this lamestream liberal canard to rest. “Through its all-out campaign in the U.S. Congress and Administration,” Petras observes in his book The Power of Israel in the United States, “the U.S.-Jewish-Israeli lobby has created a warlike climate which now goes counter to the interests of all the world’s major oil companies including BP, the UK-based gas company, SASOL (South Africa), Royal Dutch Shell, Total of France, and others.” Chossudovsky is not unaware of the work of Dr. Petras; he is simply engaging in racial and ideological obfuscation.

The oil companies—victims of ethnic obfuscation! I guess that’s one industry not controlled by yids.

Clearly, the authors mistake the mere existence of a counter-argument for a full refutation. But if they detect a dearth of evidence behind Chossudovsky’s claims due to a possible ethnic dimension to his worldview, why can’t they extend the same incredulity to Petras? Anti-semitism is a deeply cultural legacy. Is a scholar of Catholic background less subject to such biases than a Jewish colleague?

His blood be upon us and upon our children…. 

As for the putatively authoritative role of the U.S. Congress that Chossudovsky cites as evidence of Israel’s lack of agency in America’s foreign policy agenda, that is only a sickening joke in consideration of the fact that those in the know have for decades acknowledged that Israel’s U.S. lobby, AIPAC, grips the House and Senate.

Quit blaming the Romans, Jew!

Okay, so congressmen are manipulated by AIPAC. What? A whore can’t have more than one regular customer? “Grips the House and Senate” is a tad myopic. But Chossudovsky doesn’t say Congress is authoritative, he says they gave a rubber stamp.

In any case, Israel’s total GDP was $318.7 billion last year; ExxonMobile’s net worth is $486.4 billion. If the latter’s exertions in lobbying Congress (or those of the aerospace defense industry, or any of the myriad interests behind American imperialism) are less conspicuous than Israel’s, maybe it’s because there’s no ancient, international subculture of intrepid crackpots specializing in publishing salacious broadsides characterizing them as the one sinister key to understanding world history. But speaking of “lack of agency,” if the US enjoys effective veto power over Israel’s most sensitive defense priorities, and Congress is not authoritative, then Israeli lobbying efforts in Congress indicate a rather desperate negotiating position, and the difference between US leverage over Israel (on the one hand) and Israeli influence on the US (on the other) is the difference between a nutsack and an ingrown pubic hair.

Like all hopeless ideologues, the authors of Aryan Skynet are chafing under some inchoate sense of life’s unfairness they were never fully equipped to cope with as children. But if you get your education on YouTube and are readily reeled in by morality tales and faux-esoterica, then the party misdirecting you is not the obscure likes of a Michel Chossudovsky, nor even the Atlantic or the Washington Post—it is you. Reductio ad Iudaeoram is autonomic obscurantism. If you think the JQ is the rug that really ties the room together, you’re easily impressed. And yet, as we have seen, Jews themselves are taken in by this in a remarkably consistent manner.

How can yiddishkeit be untangled from its sadomasochistic relationship—from any relationship—with this sub-species of vindictive mediocrity?

I think, perhaps, it can’t. Judaism is indeed the problem, but not quite the way that anti-semites imagine.

Reductio ad Iudaeoram, Pt. II

Gaydar hyperdrive

(Part I here, Part III here, Part IV here, Part V here)

I would like to be wealthy, and in better shape. I certainly wouldn’t want to be homeless, or obese.

There are many things that I would like to be, and many things that I would not like to be, but to the extent that there’s anything essential in a human being, something that precedes him, what I want more than anything is to be exactly what I am.

But in the meantime I want to acquaint you, if you aren’t already familiar, with one Henry Makow, the proprietor of a ranty-ravey webzine concerned with exposing the Illuminati conspiracy, particularly its Jewish elements (Mr. Makow is a deeply conflicted Jew). Here is Mr. Makow’s take on anti-semitism:

Well, you cannot be a Christian if you’re involved in a Satanic conspiracy, but we know what Makow means by “Christian”: he means Gentiles. WASPs, to be precise, and probably also some descendants of traditionally Catholic ethnic groups. Once involved in a Satanic conspiracy, these people lose their essential (or vestigial) Christianity. The same cannot be said of Jewishness, of course, because Jews are a race (or an ethnicity, or whatever.) But if no one accuses Makow of being anti-WASP when he condemns the Rockefellers, it’s because Makow doesn’t conclude that the prominent involvement of WASPs in this conspiracy implicates all WASPs—nor does he seem to view anyone but Jews as having a need to redeem their national reputation by opposing it, even though he has said that the vast majority of Jews aren’t involved. Is Makow at least correct in assuming that opposition to it on the part of Jews would mitigate anti-semitism?

Of course he isn’t.

Perhaps another exhibit will illustrate why not.

Mosab Hassan Yousef is the son of a high-level Hamas operative—a high-level Hamas operative who spent decades in Israeli prisons. He spent decades in Israeli prisons because his son ratted him out. You see, Mosab Hassan Yousef is best known for defecting to Israel as an informant, and later immigrating to the United States, converting to Christianity, and authoring a tell-all about his experience, which he has promoted on various television shows.

To give you a very precise idea of where Mr. Yousef stands when it comes to the Israeli-Arab conflict, here he is speaking before the UN Human Rights Council as they deliberate about one of their monthly or weekly resolutions condemning Israel:

Now, to the extent that I am a Zionist, I badly want to relish what Mr. Yousef is telling the committee—but I can’t.

It isn’t that what he says is not true—most of it is, and the part that is true constitutes a neglected message that needs to be heard loud and clear: the PLO is indeed a retrograde kleptocracy, thuggish even in comparison with Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. But it is not “the greatest enemy of the Palestinian people,” that’s ridiculous. The greatest enemy of the Palestinian people is Israel, and Mosab Hassan Yousef may be right in every single one of his criticisms of Islam, the Arabs, and the various Palestinian factions. But when all is said and done, this is a man who betrayed his people, his family, his faith, and helped their mortal national adversaries imprison his own father. And now he lets himself be used as a marionette, because there’s no other kind of existence left for him but that of a stool pigeon.

As a Zionist, am I pleased that Yousef helped the Israeli authorities prevent attacks on Jews? Of course I am. I am very pleased by it, I’m even grateful to him. Yet when I look at Mosab Hassan Yousef, I can only feel total revulsion, because what I see is a faggot—and not just because of his textbook gayface. The simple fact is, Mosab Hassan Yousef is a worm, a complete betrayer, the type for whom Dante reserved the lowest circle of hell. We’re not talking about simple political betrayal, either—he’s not a North Korean who defected to the South. This guy betrayed his own blood, not just his family or his people but himself, his heritage, and everything that’s essential about him. To the extent that I identify with Israel, I can absolutely relate to a Palestinian irredentist who’s willing to bleed me bleach-white in the name of his worthy God and his lost homeland. I can respect that, even if I can’t tolerate it. But as much as I want to like him, a Mosab Hassan Yousef is intolerable to my soul. As is a guy like Henry Makow, who is so disproportionately mortified by any misdeed committed by a fellow Jew (as if he’s such a fine specimen himself) that, with the best of intentions and no sense of irony whatsoever, he can bring himself to pen an article entitled, “Anti Semitism is Legitimate Self Defense.” Of course, the whole history of anti-Semitism is one of scarcely discriminate massacre of disarmed, enfeebled people. Would Makow like somebody to murder him, or what? Yet perspectives like his really aren’t uncommon among Jews. What could possibly explain this extraordinary masochism? Can it be cured? On to Part III….