April 17, 2009

I crossed the river last week and went into the heart of darkness. Unlike Conrad’s hero, it took me about 15 minutes by train, and there I was, right in the midst of a city bloated with squalor, oily storefronts, dilapidated tenements, vacant courtyards, and trash-strewn lots. I was the only white man in the station as I watched the arrest of a black hobo by two humongous black police officers. As the hobo was being led away he screamed at me “Give me a hundred dollars,” and then broke up in hysterical, drunken laughter. It was three in the afternoon, and I had gone to Newark to watch my Judo coach, Teimoc, compete in a Jiu Jitsu tournament, one from which he emerged a winner.
Walking up toward the sight where the competition took place was an experience. I was, again, the only white man on the wide boulevard, lined with people going on about their business, many just hanging out talking jive. Not for a second did I feel threatened. I made a point of asking directions to the toughies loitering about, and they obliged, mind you, after a glare or two. Some were even downright polite. In front of a derelict old cinema palace, I spotted a white guy, obviously down on his luck. “Got 75 cents so I can take the bus home?” he ventured. He got a dollar for his trouble. Funny, I thought to myself, the only one to ask for money was a honkey.

Something positive seems to be taking place in the long-running war between the races, at least around these parts. It’s the blacks who are coming around—whites came round thirty years or so ago—and no thanks to black leaders like the arch race hustler Al Sharpton, either. I’ve always believed that blacks have been let down by their leaders after civil rights were firmly established during the early Sixties. Rabble-rousers attempted to turn America into a Total State of multiculturalism, preaching odious drivel about “hate crimes,” racist police, and the natural preference for what is familiar over what is strange. The latter suited African-Americans, as it did whites. It still does, but I can feel a difference. Sure, everyone prefers their own kind, but there is less hostility and more understanding. One short visit to Newark, New Jersey, just across the Hudson River, convinced me.

Martin Luther King, whose name graced the rather ungraceful boulevard I did my research on for about 30 minutes, frankly endorsed the racialist sentiments of his fellow blacks when he said in 1965 that the American Negro “feels a deepening sense of identification with his black African brothers, and with his brown and yellow brothers of Asia, South America, and the Caribbean.” It was a good sound bite but that’s about all. Switch to Algiers, 1972, when as the intrepid correspondent for William Buckley’s National Review, I interviewed Eldridge Cleaver, Donald Coxe and various other Black Panthers on the run from American justice. “Oh man, what would I give for a hamburger and a black piece of ass,” was the way Cleaver put it when I asked him if he missed home. President Boumedienne had put all those “freedom fighters” under de facto house arrest, although the rest of the intrepid foreign journalists somehow missed the fact. At the end I got a cover story for my troubles, and Cleaver and company chose to go back to American jails rather than live out their days in an Arab paradise.

The point I’m trying to make is that just as Arabs have Arab nations and Chinese have a Chinese nation, only Europeans are denied the right to have European nations. Let’s face it. Muslims and Africans are not assimilating in Europe, whereas the ones who are not assimilating in America are black Africans and Hispanics. Whites in America have tried for long to form their social consciousness in conformity with the moral and political tradition of Western Man—White Man. The elites of the academy and the media have for just as long tried to paint White Man as Racist Pig. But as always, the elites have got it totally wrong. Black Americans don’t give a damn about dead white males like Homer and Shakespeare. They have their own heroes, and it’s only nerdy college busybodies who demonstrate against my ancestors. The legacy of the white man is the one we owe everything to. Just take a look at Africa, 50 years after independence. Like it or not they’re killing each other on a rate Genghis Khan would envy. Hence the aggression and domination of other races has to be resisted in order to preserve and protect the legacy our ancestors handed down to us.

Black Americans are more American than most, their ancestors having landed here 300 years ago.  We cannot change the horrid past, nor should we forget about it, but black attitude made me feel good all over that day in Newark. It’s a black city, crime-ridden and violent, and I only was there briefly, but I felt the change and it was a good one. Black Americans have come a long way, just look at the White House. They are dominant in professional sports, especially in basketball, boxing and football. (Hispanics are dominant in baseball).  Blacks are among the biggest stars in Hollywood, and Congress, Madison Avenue and Wall Street are following suit. Take it from the poor little Greek boy’s exhaustive research: Race is no longer a problem in America, among American blacks and whites, that is. The only problem—and it’s a big one—is that black students are given a free ride in major universities, and then sent out in the big, tough world and told to make a living. Totally unprepared. The day black American students are no longer coddled by cowardly academicians, MLK’s dream will have come true.


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