November 20, 2023
Source: Wikimedia Commons
In a meeting with various faith leaders (or self-appointed faith leaders, in some possible cases) in September, King Charles III reassured those gathered that he had recently acquired a self-created “additional duty” to his traditional role of royal regnant. From henceforth on, a key part of any new monarch’s role was now to be “protecting the diversity” of the U.K. and its current holy status as a “community of communities.”
“A community of communities,” eh? You know where else is one of those? Lebanon. And Burma. And Syria. And Iraq. And the Balkans, circa 1914. The descent of any formerly ethnically, politically, and religiously coherent nation into a state of utter disjointedness, mutual mistrust, and division is nothing to be celebrated and protected, like Charles fondly imagines; it is something instead greatly to be feared and avoided.
Instead, our moronic monarch swans around wearing a Black Poppy, a new symbol devised by a typical black Race-Marxist back in 2010 with the ostensible aim of honoring nonwhite contributions to WWI. Except, as a Race-Marxist would naturally consider normal poppies to be the opium of the people, if you look into the symbol’s actual purpose, it also represents a demand for black reparations from white people, and also celebrates nonwhites who fought against Britain and the (formerly) white West in various other wars down the years, too. In other words, a poppy to honor the dead of our historic enemies who now live amongst us, rather than our own.
King Charles reminds me here of King Quin, chief protagonist of G.K. Chesterton’s now-neglected (he was a white conservative Christian) 1904 satire The Napoleon of Notting Hill, in which a future London descends into internecine bloodshed after the newly minted King Quin foolishly transforms each individual local borough into its own miniature microstate by Royal Decree. At least King Quin had the excuse of performing this insane act as an initial joke, however. What’s King Charles’ excuse?
Tall Poppy Syndrome
I write this in the sad aftermath of Remembrance Day, Britain’s rough Veterans Day equivalent, when the nation’s many imported Hamas-loving Muslim fifth columnists and their temporary white Marxist allies “coincidentally” held their latest mass hate march through the streets of London on 11 November, the very same day annual Remembrance Day celebrations are held. Naturally, there was trouble—although most of the authorities and mass media said it all came from the “Far-Right,” not the Far-Left and the Islamists. I would suggest this was a lie.
Amazingly, G.K. Chesterton once also wrote an even more prophetic (and consequently even more forgotten) novel on this very same theme, his 1914 satire The Flying Inn, about life in a future Islamized England—it’s a bit like Colin Jordan’s neo-Nazi sci-fi novella Merrie England: 2000 that I talked about on Takimag last month, only well-written and not (currently) illegal to possess a printed copy of.
It tells the story of a degenerate and quisling British elite who, through sheer ennui and self-hatred of their own culture, conspire to hand it over toward their ancestors’ age-old enemies on a plate, forging a fake pseudo-Islamic history for their own nation and pumping it into kids’ heads in schools to make them submit to forthcoming dhimmitude. Even GKC didn’t foresee what would one day become of Remembrance Day, however—probably because it didn’t even yet exist at the time he wrote his amazingly prophetic warning.
Even in the run-up to the deliberately ruined occasion there was already trouble brewing, with an elderly poppy-seller allegedly pushed to the ground and punched by a “pacifist” mob in Edinburgh—although Scottish police now say there is “no evidence” this actually happened (other than the poppy seller’s own specific testimony to the contrary, of course). Elsewhere, memorials to the dead of the two World Wars were vandalized with “FREE PALESTINE” graffiti; just imagine if a poppy seller had dared spray-paint “FREE BRITAIN” onto a mosque.
Panic on the Streets of London
Some commentators professed themselves to be “shocked” to see such things occurring on the streets of Great Britain. I don’t know why, precisely. Perhaps these people would be similarly shocked to observe lions eating antelopes, boxers punching each other, or cats chasing mice.
It is not particularly surprising to find that large numbers of Muslims bearing British passports do not particularly respect an occasion initially established to commemorate the sacrifices of the First World War: their war dead are not our war dead. The Allies and Islam were on opposing sides in that conflict; the Ottoman Empire fought alongside the initial aggressor nation of Imperial Germany. Many Western Europeans today may have forgotten this, or perhaps been systematically reeducated to forget, but many of the descendants of the Ottomans themselves certainly have not.
Left-wing Labour Party leader Keir Starmer recently courted trouble for “accidentally” removing his poppy prior to recording an election video aimed at his Party’s large Muslim client vote. Around 71 percent of Muslims voted Labour at the last 2019 election, but many Britain-based Mohammedans are now reconsidering their allegiances, with a new Party of Islam in the process of being established, although there is currently a delay, after its leaders apparently filled in its registration forms incorrectly—perhaps in Urdu or in Arabic by sheer force of habit?
Didn’t the British State once have more than enough of this kind of “community of communities” in Northern Ireland? Maybe we’ve since forgotten all about that, too. In 2018, Conservative MP Karen Bradley openly admitted she hadn’t realized people in Northern Ireland tend to vote along religious and sectarian lines. At the time, Ms. Bradley was Northern Ireland Secretary.
How do you expect such a cretinous, Chesterton-echoing ruling class to appreciate the interminable divisions between Shia, Sunni, Jew, and Christian in the Middle East, which they are now blithely importing wholesale into the West under the Panglossian assumption that history will somehow magically not repeat itself? Just as turkeys don’t often vote for Christmas, so Turks don’t often vote for Christians.
Young Turks, Old Grudges
An example of the reasoning behind many British Muslims’ dislike of Poppy Day can be found in this piece from last Nov. 11 by writer Abdullah Ibrahim, whose author bio informs us that “Growing up in as multicultural a place as the U.K. I became aware from a young age of the importance of claiming your identity…. I often weave the key theme of reclaiming our identity as Muslims in the West throughout my work.”
I must confess to being unfamiliar with Mr. Ibrahim’s wider oeuvre (apparently he also writes poetry), but to judge by his Poppy Day piece, his main idea of “reclaiming his identity as a Muslim” is to obsessively define himself against the very values, culture, and history of the wider parent society he now inhabits—specifically, by proudly refusing to wear a poppy (not even a black one?). As he says, “I take huge exception to the narrative that World War I was an honorable conflict. In truth, I have no wish to be associated with it.”
Said war, it seems, was fought in nothing but each participant nation’s “imperial interests,” adds Ibrahim. What, you mean like the “imperial interests” of the suggestively named Ottoman Empire? Next time you hear a Muslim malcontent moaning about “Western imperialism,” stop and consider whether his true problem is not with imperialism per se, but that it wasn’t “Eastern imperialism” that conquered half the globe instead.
Backwards, Christian Soldiers
I’ve no idea if Abdullah is of Turkish ancestry himself, but he may well be, suggesting as he does that “I still cannot see the First World War as anything but a catastrophe for the Muslim world,” as if it is generally viewed as being something absolutely wonderful for the Christian one: I know WWI is widely described by historians as being “Great,” but perhaps he misunderstands the precise meaning of the term in this context?
The reason WWI was really so terrible, explains our classic fully integrated Brit, was because Turkey was defeated, and “the defeat and dismantling of the Ottoman Empire marked the end of a unified Islamic global power who could protect the lives and honor of the Muslims”—he doesn’t say how, but in WWI the main way in which Turkey “protected the honor of the Muslims” was by needlessly declaring war on the Christian West in the hopes of gaining free territory handed to it from a victorious Germany, to say nothing of perpetrating the Armenian Genocide. No wonder when it came to WWI, Mr. Ibrahim has no wish to be “associated with it,” as the Muslim side’s conduct in the conflict was far more shameful than that of Britain, America, or France.
Nonetheless, once the Allies had won, Britain and France did indeed march into Ottoman lands to absorb them into their own Empires—much as Turkey had once done with formerly Christian lands in the West, like Greece and the Balkans—storing up immense problems for the region’s future. As Ibrahim argues, Franco-British colonization facilitated “the infamous Sykes-Picot Treaty which inspired the instructive division of Islamic land leading to the unstable modern Middle East and all the problems which have originated from it. The Balfour Declaration, which proposed the idea of a Zionist state in Palestine, also emerged in time—and we have seen the resulting decades of violence and war that has torn this blessed land apart [since].”
True: But I note Abdullah doesn’t point out who generally actually started all those wars between Muslims and Jews, does he?
A Deliberate Mis-Remembrance of Things Past
To those who still possess an ancestral memory, which most Muslims undoubtedly do to a far greater degree than most intentionally deracinated Westerners these days, the dead are never truly dead, but a constant living presence down the ages, as in Edmund Burke. Hence, these two groups can never truly share a common future culture as we have no common shared past culture to fall back on as a binding social glue—unless you count Christendom and Islam’s centuries of mutual cultural conflict, that is.
A century hence, I can well imagine some future Ottoman-friendly Remembrance Day ceremonies at which poppies are ritually burned and what is really being “remembered” are not the sacrifices of Britain’s unfashionably white-skinned war dead, but the post-1918 perfidies of Sevres, Balfour, Sykes-Picot, and the sad defeat of Abdullah Ibn al-Hittler by Anglo-Saxon British terror troops in 1945 before he could successfully finish off all the continent’s Jews once and for all, thereby saving Hamas and Hezbollah all that later expense on missiles and rockets (Mein Kampf is still a perennial bestseller in post-Ottoman Turkey, you know).
What a successful “community of communities” that will be, eh, King Charles? Forget putting his head on a stamp, someone should stamp on his head: as, no doubt, keffiyeh-wearing protesters one day will do, when jumping gleefully on his portrait and chanting, “Not My Caliph!” at yet another “mass community engagement event” outside Westminster Mosque some fine Remembrance Friday in the future.
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