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If you’re not from Europe, the Eurovision song contest will probably seem conceptually and aesthetically ridiculous. The same will be true if you’re from Europe.

To grasp the Geist of the thing, it’s perhaps best to think of Eurovision as the closest Europeans have to an ‘in-joke’. Nobody really takes it seriously or marks it in their diary. It just comes around and we somehow find ourselves watching. If it has a value, I suppose it’s as a very rare case of sincere trans-continental goodwill, tempered only by local alliance, friendly rivalries, and the half-deployed emotion of politics. The only American equivalent I can call to mind is the Super bowl.

This year’s contest, held on Saturday in Copenhagen, was won by an Austrian transsexual named Conchita Wurst who performed the camply uplifting number ‘Rise like a Phoenix’.

It’s fair to say that this is nothing unusual for Eurovision, which for at least twenty years has been a thinly-disguised celebration of the cheesy, relaxed and quintessentially Dutch political attitude which separates the continent from the conservatism of the United States.

Unlike others on the internet, I won’t pass judgment on the lifestyle choices of Mr Wurst here, but I would ask European visitors to reflect on the prospects of this European attitude as demographics shift in the near and distant future.

The distance in moral attitude between the millions of citizens who telephoned in to support Wurst and those living in ghettos in their larger cities must be re-communicated again and again and again until it is understood.

Already this year, journalists have drawn attention to the social media reaction from Eastern-Europeans – many of whom brand the victorious singer ‘Disgusting’ and a ‘Pervert’ – as evidence that Eastern Europe is inhabited by cultural cave-men.

Well, if Warsaw frightens you, how would Karachi make you feel?

In twenty years, Eastern-Europe will still be culturally intact. It may be prostrate before Russia, economically inferior to the West, and – yes – more traditional in its Christianity, but by that time, the capitals of the West of Europe will be fragmented into sharia and non-sharia enclaves, the former often holding the whip hand over the latter.

Where would Mr Wurst be better off then?

Irony must make an appearance here. The same liberals who demand we celebrate Mr Wurst also demand that we celebrate those who, supplied with majority rights, would likely hang Mr Wurst. This is the trademark dissonance between the Liberal short-term and the realist long-term.

With Liberal feminists, the dissonance is all the more pronounced. Like those who defend both the rights of Muslims and of Mr Wurst, those feminists who defend both Women’s-rights and the limitation of Western demographic growth only make more likely a future unattended to by the values they espouse. As Mark Steyn put it:

”In their bizarre prioritization of ‘a woman’s right to choose, feminists have helped ensure that European women will end their days in a culture that doesn’t accord women the right to choose anything.”

Of course, the hypocrisy of Liberals isn’t always stupidity. In fact, it makes for crystalline logic if you understand that Liberalism is not an end, but the means to an end. It is not the final destination of the Leftist vision, but something with which to dispose of the contemporary enemies of that vision. Liberalism is a suicide weapon that will disappear with its utility. Coupled with Islamisation, it destroys itself and the target simultaneously.

Of course, there are many fellow-travellers and bien-pensants within Liberal society who are unaware of this, and whose liberalism arises organically from a pleasant human nature. Needless to say, these are being actively betrayed by a torridly cynical elite.

The occupation of the Counter-Jihadi must be to publicise the grave distinctions between the promises of Liberalism and its likely fruit.