nelson1805

Seed of the new Kingdom

Savitri Devi is the purest link between the eternal Aryan world-view and our temporal struggle – White Nationism:

“Once, when I was ten, I was sitting
in the corner of a tramcar in my native town, with a book in my hand — Poèmes Barbares, of Leconte de Lisle, which I was bringing home — and I was sobbing. The words I had just read were those put by the French poet in the mouth of an old bard deploring the end of the Heathen world and the coming of Christianity, the religion of the meek:

“. . . . the axe has mutilated the forests;
The slave crawls and prays, where swords once clattered,
And all the Gods of Erinn have gone away. . . .”

And I, — the future Nazi — was sobbing because the old Heathen world of the strong, of the proud, of the beautiful, — ancient Aryandom — had been obliterated, and because I thought I could do nothing to bring it back.”

June 1918 Lyons, France

…

“I evolved my present religious outlook from the earliest days of my youth, and I can say that I spent my life regretting that my country — Greece — ever left off worshipping her old natural and national Gods (Apollo in
particular, the fairest of all) to turn to a doctrine imported from Palestine. I went to India precisely in search of a civilisation as entirely free as possible from Judeo-Christian influences of any sort.”

Probably from the early 1930s. Exact date and location unknown

…

““I too, am a worshipper of the Sun.”
That answer was rigourously accurate. In my mind, I recalled my years of struggle in faraway India; my lectures against the Christian ideology of equality, false meekness and false humility, in the shade of banyan trees, before white-clad crowds. And before that, my struggle in Greece against the monkeyish mentality of a levantinised “intelligenzia,” in the name of the eternal Aryan ideals which in those days — twenty-five years ago — I still called “Hellenic.”
“All my life, I have indeed fought for the same truth. under that same age-old holy Sign,” thought I. And the prospect of being arrested — which had never worried me — suddenly became almost attractive in my eyes. True, I would lose the little usefulness I might have had. But what a splendid culmination of my whole life history it would be, to suffer — at last! — a little of what so many thousands of my comrades have been suffering for the last four years at the hands of our persecutors!”

Ruins of Germany

…

“I knew the abysmal ignorance of most Europeans who pretend to understand “Indian philosophy.”
“Gandhi does not represent India,” I replied. “He has himself admitted that the two great influences that count in his life are that of Jesus Christ and that of Tolstoy — one of the most Christian-like figures of modern times. The fact that, soaked through and through in such foreign philosophy, he has acquired great fame and played a
considerable role in India, is just one more blatant sign of India’s decay from the high level of wisdom to which the ancient Aryans had attained there…

1 Belonging to one of the merchant castes, — that of the “Modh-Bania,” in Gandhi’s instance.

The topic was unusual at the Police Headquarters of Cologne; and every man present was listening intently, including the Oberinspektor in his armchair. I only hoped the Germans knew enough English to grasp the full meaning of what I was saying, — for the tall man had addressed me in English, and I had answered him in
the same language. I pursued, as though I were delivering a public lecture: “I do not know how far unconditional non-violence was practised by the civilised people of the Indus Valley, before the warrior-like Aryans poured down from the North. If, as some maintain, it was, then, I am all the more right in declaring that India’s
historic civilisation — Sanskrit civilisation — is not a product of the Tropics, but a Nordic civilisation stamped upon a tropical land, which is not at all the same thing. It is the outcome of the genius of ancient invaders whose spirit was practically the same as ours. You will not find a trace of that bold spirit in Mr. Gandhi’s pacifism — nor in the great philosophies of escape from life, products of lassitude and disillusionment and despair, more consistent than his, that sprang in Antiquity from the minds of Kshatriyas who had renounced the duties and the privileges of power. But you will find it in all its purity in the Bhagavad-Gita, the Book that proclaims that “there is nothing more welcome to a Kshatriya than a righteous war,”1 and that tells the warrior: “Slain thou wilt obtain Heaven; victorious, thou wilt enjoy the earth; stand up, therefore, O son of Kunti, full of resolution, and
fight!”2

1 The Bhagavad-Gita, II verse 31.
2 The Bhagavad-Gita, II verse 37.

Swastika – symbol of ancient Aryan India

“But . . . I heard that the Bhagavad-Gita also preached nonviolence,” said the man.
“No,” answered I. “That is the mistake of those who read it with an incurably Christian mentality. The Bhagavad-Gita, written for warriors, preaches violence in a detached spirit — utmost violence (if necessary) with perfect detachment; the action which is duty, according to each one’s natural role in the world, performed
thoroughly, but without passion, and never, never for personal ends; the selfsame thing which we National Socialists preach — and live —today; and that we are the only ones to live, in this degenerate world.”
The tall, elegant man found it advisable to drop the topic.
Perhaps he regretted ever having brought it up, thus giving the Germans who were present the opportunity to know — if they had not suspected it before — how ancient, how eternal, Hitler’s spirit is, and how indissolubly linked with every awakening of Aryan consciousness.”

…

““I am told that you come from India and that you write books. Have you written anything about India?” the M.I.’s wife asked me.
“Yes, a book in French, and two others in English, long ago. But my other books are on other subjects.”
“For example?”
“For example: the Religion of the Disk — a particularly beautiful and pure form a Sun worship, put forth by a Pharaoh of the early fourteenth century before Christ, King Akhnaton, one of the greatest historic figures of all times.”
“How interesting! And how did you come to choose such a subject?”
“Just because I too, am a worshipper of the Sun, the Source of all life and health and power,” said I.
“Are you, really? So you don’t believe in Christianity?”
I smiled. The question seemed almost absurd to me. How could anyone indeed believe in Christianity and
have our ideals? But I was contented to answer: “Certainly not,” without further explanations.”

…

“He sat down, and so did the typist, and so did I. And again, for the safety of Democracy, the gentleman peered into my past — to the extent I was willing that he should peer. And again, the things I said seemed strange to him, in spite of his long experience with “political cases,” — the truer, the stranger.
“When did you decide to go to India?” he asked me among other things.
“In 1932.”
“And what attracted you there?”
“I wished to see with my own eyes, and to study, a civilisation uniting many separate races, for thousands of years, under a social system founded upon the idea of natural racial hierarchy — our idea.
It appeared to me that the sight of India could suggest, in some way, what our New Order extended to the whole world would look like after six thousand years of existence.”
“And you did not become a little sceptical about the value of your principles when you saw real India, with its filth and misery?”
“No, on the contrary, never was I so strongly convinced of the necessity of a rational, worldwide caste-system — the purest Aryans forming the highest castes — if the world is one day to become worth living in. But the sight of India’s ‘filth and misery’ as you say so well, did teach me (or rather, strengthen in me the conviction) that the ‘live and let live’ attitude of the Indians — and of most Westerners — is no good, and that our future worldwide organisation should impose that which the Indian system has failed even to stress, namely, limitation of breeding among the inferior races, along with our well-known sterilisation of the unfit, and elimination of the dregs of humanity of all races.”
“Did you not go to India for any other reason?”
“Yes, to find there, in the religious rites, customs and beliefs, something of a living equivalent of the old Aryan cults of Europe — both of Greece and of the North; of my Europe in its entirety — which Christianity has abolished.”
“And what did you do, mainly, all those years you were there?”
“I fought Christianity — and Islam, the two international religions of equality, whose adherent any man of any race can become; the two great lasting delusions, rooted in Judaism, that set up the Jews as a ‘chosen’ people, as the channel of divine revelation, in the eyes of untold millions in the East and in the West. I fought them — both — with passionate tenacity, using any platform that was offered to me, speaking, and sometimes writing, in the name of the traditions of India, but in reality in the name of my — of our — life-centred philosophy; of the eternal Philosophy of the Swastika, not because it is ‘Indian’ in any way, but because it is mine — ours. Indeed, I did nothing else.”
“How is it that you remained there so long?”
“I did not intend to, at first. I meant to come back to Europe after a couple of years. Then, I got interested in my struggle there —which was, in fact, an aspect of our struggle. I thought myself useful — perhaps making thereby a mistake. I felt I was preparing in the distant East the advent of our world New Order. And had we won this war, I must say that, perhaps, my humble efforts would not have been entirely wasted.”

The typist only wrote down those of my answers that seemed to be of some interest in connection with my coming trial. I often had the impression that Mr. Hatch asked me a great deal of technically useless questions, out of sheer personal interest in the history of a non-German National Socialist — a relatively rare specimen.
“To sum up,” said he, after an hour or two of conversation with me, “it is your own philosophy of life, your essentially aesthetic attitude to religious and social problems, and your interpretation of world history that made you a National Socialist?”
“Nothing made me a National Socialist. I always was one, by nature, by instinct, and could not have been anything else even before I knew what to call myself. But it is true that the factors you mention — and others too — have helped me to become more and more conscious of my Ideology.”
“What ‘other factors’, for instance?”
“My awareness of the Jewish danger on all planes, and not merely in the economic sphere; my strong sense of Aryan solidarity; my inborn hatred of moderate views and of half measures.”
When the typist had gone away, Mr. Hatch came back to me with another man, a Jewish-looking sort of fellow, before whom I repeated some of the things I had said concerning the historical foundation of my Nazi convictions.
“Personally, I like your ancient Greek stuff well enough,” said that other man, “your Spartans, and your Olympic games and what not. But couldn’t we have that without National Socialism?”
“No. It is impossible.”
“But why, impossible?”
“If you cannot yourself see ‘why’, it just means that you grasp nothing at all of the real Hellenic spirit, or nothing of National Socialism — or perhaps nothing of either,” I replied.
On that remark of mine, both that man and Mr. Hatch walked out. I watched them go. The former was crude, the latter refined —English, and gentlemanlike. But they were both average men. A certain admixture of Jewish blood, probably, in the case of the former, and a successful Judeo-Christian education coupled with vested interests, in the case of both, could never allow them to see things as they are. And never, perhaps, since those horrid days of 1946 that followed my landing in England, had I felt so keenly that we are the misunderstood minority — the only one — that bears the torch of eternal truth in this hateful, decaying Western world, we National Socialists, we, the modern Aryan Heathen. And once more I longed for the divinely ordained general crash — the end of “Kali Yuga,” or the “Dark Age” — when that world would sink into nothingness while
the survivors among us would organise upon its ruins the new earth, the Golden Age of the following Cycle in time, the worldwide New Order.”

…

“Who wishes to live, let him be a fighter, and whoever refuses to fight in this world of eternal struggle does not deserve life.”

““But surely you would not have done yourself some of the things the Nazis did,” said the naive lady.
“I undoubtedly would have — and worse things than you can imagine — had I only been given an opportunity,” answered I, with the fire of sincerity, knowing I was right. “And I am prepared to act in the same manner, if ever I get a chance to . . . next time. But of course, as far as possible, always in a detached spirit. I would brush aside all personal feelings including my hatred for anyone who hates my Führer, and consider the sole expediency of the measures I would apply — nothing else.”
“You refuse to have a part in the murder of innocent animals, you say, and yet, you would send any number of human beings to their doom if you or your superiors judged it ‘expedient’, i.e. if it suited your ideological ends!”
“Most certainly.”
“I fail to understand you. You baffle me.”
“Animals are not anti-Nazis” said I, so calmly and so spontaneously, — so naturally — that, in spite of her fathomless naivety, the woman recoiled a little. But she clung to her illusions as though her confidence in life depended upon them. “I can’t believe you!” she said. “I do not want to believe you; you look so sweet!”
“What you, and I, and a thousand other people might believe or want to believe has absolutely no importance. Facts alone count,” answered I, in a tranquil voice, with a happy smile.
There was an unbreachable abyss between the usual man-centred outlook of that soft-hearted woman, brought up in a Christian atmosphere to the influence of which she had responded, and myself, and us all. I recalled the words by which Monsieur Grassot, the Assistant Director of the French Information Department, at Baden
Baden, had characterised our merciless consistency: cette logique effroyable — that appalling logic. And once more, as on the 9th of October 1948, before the desk of that official, I thought: “The degenerate world that exalts the Christian values (with what appalling hypocrisy!) will never be won over to our point of view. It will have to
perish wholesale before we can build our world. Let it perish! Then the surviving young Aryans of all lands shall follow us.””
…

Religion of the Strong

This short film is well worth downloading – it summarises the struggle brilliantly:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mInOzKRZE5g

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9DQOlP5iY0

* * *

It was one of the greatest honors of my life that Martin Kerr of the old NSWPP told me that Savitri Devi wanted to meet. me. She had read my 1980 article “Go Tell the Spartans.” Tragically, she went blind and fell ill just before her planned trip to America, then died, But I know we will meet… some day.