|Two Different Worlds||John Tyndall on the gulf between the BNP and the Old Order|
The following article was originally published in the April 1992 issue of British Nationalist newspaper, just prior to the general election of that year. We are reprinting it here following a reader's letter of praise for the article.
A point which our party will be stressing regularly in the 1992 general election is that of the depressing 'sameness' of the Westminster parties.
And there is justification enough for this: over a wide area of national issues - immigration, the economy, Europe, law and order, capital punishment, overseas aid and foreign affairs, just to mention a few - the differences between these parties are, at the most, minimal. Their arguments range simply over ways and mans to implement programmes stemming from goals that in almost all respects are basically the same.
But there is a further sense in which these parties might be lumped together - and here is where their outlook differs fundamentally from ours: their entire appeal to the British public, such as it is, is crudely materialistic. It is pitched solely at the basest instincts of individual selfishness and greed; it panders only to each voter's desire to achieve the best possible benefits in the way of money, living standards and the satisfaction of personal ambition. Toryism, Labourite Socialism and 'Liberal Democracy' simply constitute minor variations of method in pursuit of these over-riding priorities.
As election time draws near, the political parties of the old order all engage public relations experts who are paid to sniff about among the masses of voters to ascertain what the latter most want. Party election programmes are then cobbled together in which each party strives to outdo the others in a game of popular bribery. The recent Tory budget was a perfect example of this practice - something for everybody, the extent of the bribes tempered only by the limits of available money and the need not to spend so much courting one section of the electorate that not enough is available to court the next. Labour spokesmen have rightly condemned this budget as a mere spree of vote-catching, but of course were Labour the party of government it would have done exactly the same.
No principles, no ideals
And what of Mr. and Mrs. Average Voter themselves? Question them on how they make their choices at election time and they will confirm that they will give their support to whatever party seems to offer them the most for themselves. Of course, this only demonstrates that the bankruptcy of principles and ideals with which politics in Britain have been corrupted has in large part infected the nation as a whole. Each individual is scrambling for what they can get, with little if any regard for the overall national good. Are the British people as a whole to blame for this? Hardly so. Politics having set the tone of national debate, with the mass media making their own large contribution to the process, it is the instinct of the man in the street to determine his priorities in accordance with the prevailing norms. And this in turn further corrupts the political climate, as even the better intentioned of politicians feels bound to toady to this spirit of individual self-centredness and materialistic values if he is to stand a chance of winning or staying in office.
Theodore Dalrymple, writing in The Spectator on the 21st September last year, spoke of the British being "spiritually, culturally and emotionally the most impoverished people in the world, compared with whom the slum-dwellers of Mexico City or the tribesmen of the Congo lead fulfilling lives." To some it might seem stretching a point to link this description with the city landscape of contemporary London, the ugliness of which has now become such a matter of national shame that a panel of architects has been appointed to examine the feasibility of demolishing a large part of it. The two, however, are not unconnected. They form parts of a whole, along with the appalling noise masquerading as 'music' that screams out at us in a multitude of public places as well as dominating our radio and TV channels.
Last month the Home Office released figures showing that crime rose by 16 per cent during 1991. Far from acknowledging this as a national disgrace, the Government actually hinted that it was something worth congratulating ourselves about, as the increase during the previous year had been a staggering 19 per cent! This is a measure of the spirit of resignation in which the collapse of our society is now viewed: a massive growth of lawbreaking year by year is taken for granted, and when one year the growth slows down slightly we are supposed to be thankful for such small mercies!
It is so typical of the atmosphere in which current public discussion is conducted that this rocketing breakdown of law and order should be seen primarily as a phenomenon arising out of material deprivation rather than one symptomatic of moral degeneracy. If we throw yet more money at the inner cities, so the reasoning goes, the inhabitants of those concrete jungles will appreciate the gesture with such gratitude that they will transform themselves into model citizens, thenceforward respecting society's rules and conventions with a new-found ardour. Could any supposition be more pathetic in its misunderstanding of the true causes of our national malaise?
Spiralling crime, like ugliness of sight or sound, forms part of a pattern of spiritual poverty in our lives of which the symptoms are more than a thousand-fold, including as these do the abysmal level to which politics in this country have now descended. It should be no matter of surprise to us, given this general condition, that an election is conducted by appeals to the most mercenary sentiments among the people; it could not be otherwise as we approach the end of a century more starved of nobility in human aspirations than any yet recorded.
It is against this world of debased values that we hurl our challenge. The challenge is far more than merely a political one; it embraces every single aspect of living, every sphere of human thought and action. It is religious and philosophical as much as it is concerned with the policies and procedures of government. If its aims are to be summed up in one single word, that word is renewal: renewal of politics, renewal of economic life, renewal of society, renewal of our culture, renewal of the moral order, renewal of our people.
I have mentioned the religious dimension, but this is not to say that our movement ties itself to any particular denomination or church. In our Election Manifesto we have said:-
The religious dimension to our struggle comes from the fact that we are, above all, dedicated to a set of mighty ideals that stem, in the last analysis, from the forces of the human spirit - to be specific, the spirit of our ancestors who built this country to its former greatness and glory and spread the domain of the British race to the furthest corners of the globe. We regard our inheritance from these former generations as one which far transcends the realm of the merely material; it is to us a holy grail of familial trust, which imposes upon us the duty to guard it, nurture it and pass it on to those coming after us. Our commitment to our task is first and foremost a moral one; and only secondarily, and in consequence of that, is it political. Politics are to us merely the vehicle by which we can obtain the power needed to carry out a revolutionary process of regeneration of our people. For this reason we believe we are justified in claiming for our cause the character of a religious mission. It is a religious mission in which we seek no quarrel with the established religions; on the contrary, we are only too ready to work in alliance with those belonging to the established religions who seek the same goals of renewal as we do - and of these there are many, today perhaps alienated from their churches by the apostasy of the contemporary priesthood but still loyal to their traditional beliefs.
Their world and ours
From all this it should be abundantly clear that between ourselves and the parties of the establishment there is a gulf of such magnitude that it might be said to separate two different worlds.
In their world there is the acceptance of a decayed and dying civilisation, of a society gone rotten at the core; and the political art consists of ways and means to negotiate a course through the wreckage. All the evils of our contemporary culture - the disintegration of the family, rising illegitimacy, drug-taking, urban blight, rocketing crime, uglification, homosexuality, feminism, the ageing of the population - these are accepted as part of the social landscape about which politicians can do nothing and which are not anyway their business. Government becomes a process of offering people the lifebelts they need to keep afloat in a sea of ever-darkening filth over which prime ministers, cabinets and parliaments have long abandoned control.
Our challenge is a challenge to the basic supposition that these evils cannot be eradicated. It is a challenge to the powerlessness of government to change and to renew. It is a challenge to the assumption that nothing can be done.
Millions of words have been written by journalists and spoken by politicians about the large numbers of young people in Britain today who have no respect for authority and who believe in nothing.
But what is this but a massive indictment of the leaders of the established political parties, most of all those who have presided over government, who have failed to create any authority worthy of respect or to offer our young folk any strong ideals worth living for?
And with a nation bankrupt of ideals, what can politicians offer at election times other than mere appeals to a craving for creature comforts and a preoccupation with strictly personal goals?
What we offer
This is where our world is in fundamental conflict with theirs. Certainly, we do not reject people's quest for material improvement; quite the contrary, we offer a programme for economic reconstruction which will provide the opportunity for better living standards than have ever before been achieved in these islands.
But we offer much more than merely that. We offer the recovery of national pride and national honour. We offer a concept of patriotism that will raise that word from the present low esteem in which it is held to something once again commanding the favour of all.
We offer the vision of a society once again dedicated, as were the finest societies across the ages, to nobility and beauty. We hold up the vision of a land ringing with great music, illuminated by great art, inspired by great drama and uplifted by great literature. We appeal to the people to help us create magnificent cities and clean and picturesque towns that might earn the admiration of mankind.
Above all, we offer the ideal of a reborn people: of a new race of Britons, sturdy of limb, keen of eye and imbued with the finest qualities of manhood and womanhood, a race that might once more perform the deeds that led its forebears across the oceans to the mighty achievement of empire - a reincarnation of the breed that manned the thin red line at Waterloo and inspired the finest lines of Kipling.
Of course, to the half-witted and the decadent such talk of race will evoke the spectre of 'hatred', to be followed an instant later by moronic whines about 'fascism'. But there is no hatred in this dream, only a long suppressed yearning for a revival of the ancestral type; such negative sentiments of hatefulness we leave to those who across the ages have eyed the breed with envy, and today coalesce in organised malignancy to prevent its resurrection.
But here again is where our worlds collide. They design their social utopias on foundations where the human content is of little account, and then they wring their hands in perplexity when the final product fails to match up to the lavish expectations of the blueprint. We recognise that the first requirement for a better society is better people, and we are pledged to create the conditions both of nature and nurture whereby this may be pursued successfully.
Meaning of authority
Then what of authority? Once more, their world and our world are at polar opposites. When they speak of 'authority' they are thinking only of statutes - of dead pieces of paper imprinted with the acts of a parliament which long ago ceased to be the servant of the nation which gave birth to it, and which now legislates at the whim of whatever powerful vested interest happens to shout loudest on the day. To them, this 'authority' is sacrosanct, regardless of whether it is backed up either by moral example or the evidence of good works achieved. Lisping wimps who have presided only over national decay and disgrace are vested with this 'authority' by virtue of their having proved no more than adroit operatives in the legalised swindles that we call party politics. Men ad women who have made careers out of selling our national birthright have 'authority' because they are elected members of the House of Commons and have passed the laws, which their overlords in the world of money and patronage have commanded them to pass. Judges and magistrates are then seen as having 'authority' because they are the daily administrators of these laws.
We can only emit a hollow laugh when we hear appeals for the observance of 'authority' coming from the people who bolted in terror from the rioters of Handsworth and Brixton rather than enforce the law, and who in 23 years have nothing to show for their contest with IRA, but a record of incompetence and surrender.
To us authority is much more than a law passed by parliament. To us, authority is vested in those personalities who can command it by the inspiration of their leadership and the magnitude of their deeds. When government emerges that will grapple successfully with the problems besetting Britain in the late 20th Century and raise the nation back to a respected place in the world by demonstration of its strength and its competence, that government will have some entitlement to 'authority'. When men come to the fore in national affairs, who have aspect of chieftains and who can speak in tones that can rekindle the fires of national pride and ardour; those man will acquire 'authority'. For the moment, all talk of 'authority' in the absence of these essentials is mere hot air.
Return of duties
There is one more vital aspect in which we find ourselves a world apart from the parties of yesterday. We go to the electorate not only with a message as to what we will give to the people, but also with one as to what we feel is right to demand from the people. We have the temerity to do what no-one has done since the days of wartime: to speak of duties and not just of 'rights'.
Of course there is the duty of every citizen to obey the law - that will not be argued.
But duties do not end there; they go further. It is fashionable today to say that any kind of human behaviour is permissible so long as it does not harm others. But of whom do they speak when they speak of 'others'?
The answer would seem to be: others living - moreover, others seem strictly as individuals, not as members of a nation. That is as far as the concept extends.
An individual can live a life of personal decadence and degeneration, abusing his body, poisoning his mind and rendering no service of value to his community - that is all right so long as whatever he does not interfere with the life of the individual next-door, who may be regarded as free to do exactly the same thing subject to the same conditions.
We believe that this is an unacceptably narrow concept of the boundaries of individual obligation and responsibility.
To us, the individual is a link in a chain, a chain connecting the past to the present and the present to the future. He owes a debt to those who came before him and he has a duty to those who come after him.
He is not just a 'person', a human atom, he is part of a nation and a race.
If he is British, he is advantaged, (Dalrymple not withstanding) to live a life of quality far superior to those of most other peoples in the world. And why is this? It is because his nation, his race, has over the ages built a civilisation far higher than most of those to be found elsewhere. That is his debt to the past.
And in what way should that debt be honoured? It should be honoured by his conducting his life in such a manner as to sustain that civilisation and pass it on intact - indeed, if possible, enhanced - to those generations that come after.
In this concept, it is not enough just to refrain from 'harming others'. The individual has a duty to contribute positively to the maintenance of his community's heritage. He should live a life conducive to good health of body and mind, so that this contribution may measure up to the maximum of his potential. And he should give constant thought as to what he will leave behind him when his time comes to depart this world. Will this bequest enrich his people or will it impoverish it? To us these are vital questions; they strike at the very core of what constitutes good citizenship. Yet they make are questions, which form no part of the thinking of those who define citizenship in today's Britain.
The forgotten catalogue of duties
This discussion of duties could be extended indefinitely, were there the space. There is the duty to work; the duty to keep one's neighbourhood clean and tidy; the duties of fatherhood and motherhood; the duties to infuse one's children with a sense of the civic virtues and with values conducive to a strong family and a strong nation; the duty in the first place to choose a marriage partner through whom the nation, as we know it, might be continued; the duty, when making purchases of goods and services, to patronise one's own country rather than another country's industries (whenever this is reasonably possible). These are just a few of the things that should come to mind when the concept of good citizenship is discussed. Yet of them there is scarcely any talk in the current political debate, which revolves solely around which party clamouring for seats in Parliament can offer a more seductive selection of handouts to the voters than which other party.
Yes, we and they represent two different worlds. Theirs is a world in which all the population are seen as children, who have to be wet-nursed with promises of goodies and gifts and never summoned to arduous tasks. Ours is a world in which those among the people who have attained adulthood are encouraged to think and act as adults and to accept upon themselves the burdens that should be accepted by the heirs to a great estate. In their world political argument is the level of a kindergarten, with all serious subjects excluded on the supposition that the people are not grown-up enough to hear about them; elections thereupon become fought over childish trivia. In our world the serious is given priority, and no issue is allowed to become taboo if the whole future of the nation depends upon it. Our manifesto is a genuine attempt to bring politics back to an adult plane, which will determine whether Britain survives or dies, whether in the coming century we live greatly as befits a great nation with a great history, or whether we become - merely history.
Never before has there been a time of such vital decision. Never before has a people' choice been so important.