What's a Gentile To Do?

Jews are the only people on the planet who want it to be illegal to dislike them. They're also the only people on the planet who torture children, so...

I imagine many readers share with me—at least, here in the States—the concern there is a cataclysm approaching of the type the Russians suffered in 1917. If so, then they’ve spent a little time thinking about the best way to prepare for or respond to it. Perhaps more than a little time.

It makes me angry that Jews have created the circumstances in which we have to consider in all seriousness—as applied to our own lives—Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s famous lament in the Gulag Archipelago that begins, “And how we burned later in the camps…”¹ What if we’d fought back? he asks. What if, instead of “paling with terror” at every knock on the door, we’d grabbed whatever was at hand and set up an ambush in the hallway? The Soviet regime would have collapsed, he says.

Yes, but think how hard it would be to do that—to dredge up violence to that extreme in the middle of the night in your middle class neighborhood in the middle of your comfortable middle age. The very strong tendency for most people faced with what the Russians faced in 1917 would be to lock the doors, pull the blinds, and keep one’s head down until it all blew over. That’s what most Russians did. That’s what most Americans will do.

But the Bolsheviks were and are a special kind of monster. The orgy of violence and destruction and murder and torture and theft the Bolshevik Jews inflicted on the innocent people of Christian Russia lasted 70 years—officially. But it never really stopped. Today, the unrepentant descendants of the unpunished perpetrators of history’s worst genocide are the holocaust deniers and Holocaust Liars busily inflicting more of the same on the Ukrainians and the Palestinians. And, perhaps soon, on us.

Jehovah’s blood lust never sleeps. And wherever that depraved monster is allowed to raise its head, there is no place down low enough to save one’s own. In Russia, here’s what the Jehovah-worshipers did to some people who were just trying to keep their heads down:

An announcement was made at a Russian university that all faculty members were to attend an ideological training session in another city on a particular date. Attendance was mandatory. However, those faculty members who had also been members of the Communist Party before the Bolshevik takeover were exempted. The practical effect of excluding Communist Party members from the required attendance was that only gentile faculty had to attend the training.

On the designated morning, the Christian professors arrived at the train station and boarded the train for the distant city. It was the dead of winter.

At some point along the way, when they were many miles from any human habitation, the train slowed and came to a stop. Russian soldiers moved through the cars ordering everyone off. This train is being taken out of service, they said. There is another train just behind this one that will take you the rest of the way.

When everyone was off the train, it left. We can only surmise what happened after the last sounds of that train died away and silence descended on the large group of high-IQ Russian Christians standing beside the empty train tracks deep in the frozen Russian wilderness. As the minutes ticked by, then the hours, the awful truth of their position would have forced itself on them. There was no train coming to take them the rest of the way.

The lucky ones froze to death before nightfall. With the coming of the night came the wolves—wolves in the huge numbers for which Russian forests are famous. The humans would have probably formed a compact defensive huddle with the outermost armed with sticks. The wolves would have circled, winter-hungry, growing bolder as more wolves arrived, drawn by the scent of warm flesh. The first few would have dashed in and out then all the wolves at once in a ferocious rush full of teeth made for ripping.

Those people died truly horrific deaths out there in the freezing darkness amid the screams of human agony. They had done nothing wrong—committed no crime. Like the native Palestinians whom the Jews are currently murdering in Gaza, those Russian professors were completely innocent. They were keeping their heads down—obediently going off to get their mandatory training from the communists—when they found themselves suddenly in the wilderness helpless and watching the sun sinking in the west, their guts tied in knots by terror at the ordeal they must endure that night.

I wonder how many of those professors, before the Bolshevik takeover, had sat quietly while an outspoken colleague was cancelled for antisemitism.

I wonder how many of those professors, while telling themselves the smartest policy was to keep one’s head down, had failed to denounce, say, the vandalism of the tsar’s portrait hanging in the university’s administration building or the tearing down of a confederate monument.

Keeping one’s head down guarantees nothing but a degree of complicity.

When the traffic is bad in Russia.

I also wonder how many of those professors sought to protect themselves by outright collaboration with their enemies. Surely the collaborators, at least, we might suppose, gained an exemption from that wintertime jaunt to the deep forest?

Not likely. While the Bolsheviks certainly made use of gentile collaborators, in the end they were still just gentiles. Disdained, distrusted, and disposable. They were “treacherously pretending to be on our side” as Leon Krayni put it in the Ukrainian CheKa’s publication, The Red Sword, regarding gentile progressives.² Meanwhile, the Protocols appreciated “gentile fronts” for the ease with which through public exposure they could be gotten rid of when no longer useful, thus saving the Jews the expense of having to reward long and loyal service.

In other words, collaborators, once you’ve outlived your usefulness you are on that train to the deep forest like everyone else. Your collaboration, in fact, may leave you more vulnerable than your gentile brother or sister who maintains their dignity.

I once read an interesting transcript of the interrogation of a high-ranking “Old Bolshevik” conducted during one of the purges unleashed by Stalin, an Old Bolshevik himself. The interrogator was a young ethnic Russian and the interrogated was an accomplished old Jew whose career in the Soviet government was spent mostly as the ambassador in various great capitals of the West.

The Old Bolshevik had been recalled and arrested. He was interrogated in the prison where he was being held until, both he and his interrogator seemed to presume, his eventual execution.³

In any case, I was fascinated by the Old Bolshevik’s description of the enjoyment the commissars (who would have been Jews) got from watching the faces of collaborators or allies (who would have been gentiles) at the moment they realize they’d been betrayed. He was referring to members of the former aristocracy who had joined with and provided assistance to the people exterminating his people. Commissars would travel distances to be there to witness the moment in person.

Classic Talmudic staging. George W. Bush, seated in a child’s chair, receiving the news from Andrew Card on 9-11 that a second airplane had struck the World Trade Center. The look on that face.

Dostoevsky tells a story in one of his novels about a wedding party at a country estate in Russia that went late into the night. Everyone was having such a good time that, when the liquor ran out, they decided to carry on the party in the nearby town. They ordered six teams of horses hitched to sleighs and brought around front. The bride, the groom, and the best man got into the first sleigh, the rest of the party spreading itself among the remaining five. Off they went across the moonlit snow for the town about ten miles away.

At first, there were shouts back and forth across the snow between the young merry-makers on this joyous occasion, but then someone noticed that some wolves had started following them. Catching the scent of horseflesh, they had come down out of the forested hills that lined both sides of the road as it wound its way along the floor of a valley toward the town that still lay five or six miles ahead. It had been a particularly hard winter and the wolves in the region were starving. The group racing along behind them had grown larger. The wolves were clearly trying to catch them.

Up on the hills, black forms could be seen dashing across the white snow patches where there were breaks in the trees. The wolves were keeping pace with the six teams of horses and the sleighs with their young occupants—all now mad with fear—flying down the valley below toward the safety of the town ahead. But, the hills seemed to have come alive with a moving mass, which poured down into the valley to join the chase.

Weighed down by the sleighs, the horses would not be able to outrun the wolves and the pursuit soon caught up to the hindmost sleigh. The starving wolves began ripping out chunks of horseflesh even while the horses were still running and the horses, sleigh, and young people went down in a bloody tangle of harness, splintering wood, and teeth. The screams of both the humans and horses as they died savage deaths followed the five remaining sleighs still fleeing down the valley toward the town.

But, there were far too many wolves to be satisfied with the one sleigh. The mass continued its pursuit even as the hills poured fresh wolves into the valley. In no time, the next hindmost sleigh was caught and horses and humans suffered the same savage deaths. Then the fourth was caught, then the third. They were within sight of the gates of the familiar town when the second sleigh was caught and now only the lead sleigh with the bride, groom, and best man remained, their horses nearly dead from exhaustion.

It was clear these wolves were going to pursue the sleigh up to the very gates of the town, and, to the horror of the sleigh’s occupants, it became apparent they were not going to make it. They, too, were going to be caught, and as the first wolves reached the sweat-gleaming flanks of the exhausted horses, the best man pushed the bride and groom off the sleigh. The momentary respite gained as the lead wolves fell on the newlyweds was just enough to allow the horses and sleigh with its lone occupant to sweep safely through the gates into the town.

The next morning, the trail of wreckage and bloody snow plainly told the story of what had happened the previous night. The young people in the wedding party were all well-known in the town and the whole town was seized by grief over their deaths. The best man gave an account of what had happened in which he exonerated himself, but everyone suspected what had really happened out in the moonlight on that snowy road that night. Everywhere he went in that town, people gave the best man dark looks and muttered under their breath. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky young man they once knew. He had become something that carried evil with him. He soon moved away to a large city, but it offered no sanctuary. He, himself, knew what secret evil he carried within him—that he was no longer that happy-go-lucky young man he’d once been. Too late, he understood that when he’d pushed his best friend and his friend’s new bride to their deaths, he’d saved his own life, but he had saved a life that was no longer worth living. Within the year, he committed suicide.

The looks, as the Old Bolshevik described them, on the faces of the gentile collaborators—so prized by the commissars—were the looks of those who had made their lives unworthy by assisting in the destruction of their own people, but who had managed somehow to convince themselves that the value of drawing breath for another day on this planet was sufficient to compensate for what they had destroyed. When they realized that they had exchanged the only thing of value no one could take from them for a thing that could be snatched away on the whim of those who hated and despised them, they understood that they had been betrayed, but that the betrayal had been committed by themselves against their own humanity. It was for the pleasure of seeing that look of utter human despair on the faces of their gentile allies that the Bolsheviks were willing to travel.

Don’t give them that pleasure.

1. And how we burned in the camps later, thinking: What would things have been like if every security operative, when he went out at night to make an arrest, had been uncertain whether he would return alive and had to say goodbye to his family? Or if, during periods of mass arrests, as for example in Leningrad, when they arrested a quarter of the entire city, people had not simply sat there in their lairs, paling in terror at every bang of the downstairs door and at every step on the staircase, but had understood they had nothing left to lose and had boldly set up in the downstairs hall an ambush of half a dozen people with axes, hammers, pokers, or whatever else was at hand. The organs would very quickly have suffered a shortage of officers and transport and, notwithstanding all of Stalin’s thirst; the cursed machine would have ground to a halt!

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
The Gulag Archipelago

2. The Protocols, too, appreciate the “gentile front.” because they can be gotten rid of easily when no longer useful, thus saving the cost of reward for long and loyal service.

3. In the end, he was not executed, but lived out his natural life in an apartment in Moscow.