Dixie Under Siege

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Civil War, confederate, confederate flag, confederate flag debate and scandal, confederate flag represents, cultural transformation, dixie, dylann roof, Dylann Storm Roof, Facebook, florida, Georgia, Glenn Beck, heritage not hate, Obama, Peace, racial change in america, racism, south, South Africa, southern american, sweet home alabama, the south, white america

It’s been over a month since the Charleston church massacre and the debate over the Confederate flag continues to scale the virgin peaks of public anger and politico-philosophical absurdity.

“It’s a symbol of White supremacism!” – The Leftists are yelling – incorrectly.

“It’s a symbol of White heritage!” – White people from Oregon, Idaho, Ohio, Wyoming and Michigan are retorting – also incorrectly.

Only a rational (and it would seem, silent) minority correctly identify the confederate flag as being a symbol, not of ‘White America’, but of a limited, poor, neglected, derided (and multiracial) district of America – Dixie, or the ‘South’.

This cultural blanket (although subject to frequent redefinition) is generally said to cover the states of Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi (thank you, spell check!), Tennessee, Virginia, West Virginia, North and South Carolina, Texas, Florida (minus Miami), Kentucky and (occasionally) Missouri. A considerable slice of America, and a very influential force in its history.

Of course, it is no secret that this cultural domain once fought a war to uphold the moral abomination of slavery, and nor is it taboo to acknowledge that the flag under dispute was used as battle regalia in that war. But as times change, so does the meaning of symbols. Over the past 100 years, the Confederate flag has been slowly transformed into a symbol almost devoid of racial connotation. Indeed, before the Charleston massacre so horribly re-politicised it, the Southern Cross was broadly recognised as a symbol of cultural continuity and self-respect, of working class pride in the face of a sneering middle and upper class establishment and media.

That last point needs some detail. How many times have you heard a joke like the following –

Q. “How do you circumcise a Redneck?” A: “Kick his sister in the chin.”

Q: “What’s the last thing you usually hear before a redneck dies?” A: “Hey y’all.. Watch this!”

Q. “How did the redneck die from drinking milk?” A. “The cow fell on him!”

I have heard a hundred similar jokes and I’m an Englishman. One simply cannot avoid them. If you watch the Simpsons, Family Guy, South Park, Friends, the West Wing, Dexter, the Sopranos or any other mainstream US production, you will at some point hear a cruel and bigoted jibe at the ‘South’ and at the disadvantaged folk who reside there.

This bigotry has a long and complicated history. The most disadvantaged sub-region of the South has always been the region of Appalachia – a long broad zone of mountains running up from the Deep South to the southern tip of New York State. For centuries, the denizens of this region were defamed with the most horrible speculation in the developing American press. Indeed, so prevalent was this popular cruelty that it now has the character of a national tradition. The ‘Hillbillies’ (as they have long been known) are said to be habitually incestuous, illiterate, violent, alcoholic and reactionary. Over time the Hillbilly stereotype merged with that of the Redneck, and has since become the singular source of hatred against poor White Americans.

Hatred of poor Whites is the last acceptable prejudice in American life. You can no longer make unkind comments about Blacks, Mexicans and Asians without inviting a storm of condemnation. Poor White have no such protection.

I understand that the Confederate flag has a long and infamous history, chequered with moral whiteness and blackness, heroism and sadism, aspiration and poverty. But it is simple-mined and lazy to imagine only the negative meanings are represented by it today.

D, LDN.

Is Hatred Excusable?

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Bigotry, Christianity and Islam, Civilisation, Counter-Jihad, Counterjihad, Cultural Marxism, Defend the modern world, eminem, Hating, Hating Muslims, Hatred, Hatred game, Is hatred justified, Peace, racism, Should we Hate Muslims, What is racism, What is wrong with

This Christmas, I was watching television with my family – you can picture the scene; 5 people weighed down by food and boredom, surrounded by ripped up wrapping paper and empty wine bottles – when a celebrity I have always disliked came on the screen. “Urghh, I hate that woman” I muttered, exhaling sharply, to which my darling 8yr old niece immediately turned around to state: “David! Hate is a naughty word.”

I took her criticism on board and dutifully lowered my head, to which she smiled sadistically (she wants to be a teacher when she grows up). I also began to think seriously about what she said. I think it’s great that her teachers (or perhaps my sister) have taught her that ‘hate’ is too heavy a word to throw lightly around, because that’s certainly true.

It’s not something one likes to feel either. Hatred degrades the soul of the person who feels it, just like a grudge or a fit of jealousy. But are there occasions (however rare) when hatred is the right thing to feel? I think so.

I get rather tired of hearing the following mantra: “I hate Islam. I don’t hate Muslims”. Even though it’s a good-natured thought and in some cases might align with a kind of accuracy (not all Muslims are evil) it seems to me a disguised form of evasion. I absolutely do hate Muslims. Not all of them, I concede, but a hefty portion.

I hate those Muslims who wish me harm, or who would impose a way of life on me that I do not desire. I hate those who would excuse acts of terrorism against civilised people. I hate those who believe women should be told what to do by men. I hate those who indoctrinate, imprison and propagandise. Taken together, I think this means I hate a majority of Muslims.

Does it make me bad? I’m not sure. It depends on who is holding the scales of right and wrong. Should I have them in my possession, I would argue that my feelings are natural and inevitable, even if they sound extreme and irrational. I’d also challenge my interrogators to propose a different emotion when confronted with the vision of a stoned rape victim.

D, LDN.

Would You Kill for Your Freedom?

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Afghanistan, American Liberty, Christianity and Islam, Defend the modern world, Demographics of Europe, Multiculturalism, Murder, No to Turkey in the EU, Peace, Race and ethnicity in the United States Census, Terrorism, War, Would you kill for freedom?

I met an old school friend last week, the first time I had seen or heard of him since we departed for separate colleges in 2001.

I say ‘friend’ – we were never best mates, but I remember we always sat together in French (lower set), where we often bonded through a shared antagonism towards the subject and its teacher.

We arranged via facebook to meet in a pub in Leicestershire. It was my idea. I had many questions I wanted to ask him regarding his most recent period of employment – three long tours of Afghanistan.

It’s rarely a surprise to learn which of your school-friends ended up joining the military. Timothy was no exception. He was always braver and more athletic than the rest of us. He also displayed an early appetite for danger, choosing to impress girls by jumping off high walls and sliding on frozen puddles.

Nevertheless, I wondered if the experience had changed him as a person. Had his cheeky Mancunian sense of humour been diminished or otherwise affected by the terror of combat? I also had a more specific interrogation.

After he had finished speaking (at quite some length) about an intention to move to Australia, I could restrain myself no longer.

“Was it hard in Afghanistan?” I asked, preparing the way for my real enquiry.

“Nah, it was great. Just too fucking hot. Can’t be arsed going back though.”

“Were you frontline or..”

“Infantry.”

Oh, the hell with it, I thought.

“Did you kill anyone?”

A long pause followed.

He replied positively. It shocked me more than it had any right to.

My friend – the little boy who had tripped me in football practice, stole my pencil sharpener, accompanied me on afterschool detentions – had shot terrorists. The thought held me in cold hypnosis for the rest of our time together.

Murder is obviously a complicated moral issue; arguably the most complicated. The taking away of life from another person – especially for ideological reasons – pushes the human mind into direct confrontation with the fundamentals of existence. What is this conscious experience between birth and demise, what is the value of it, and have I got a better right to mine than another man has to his?

It was perhaps as recent as the 1960s that opposition to murder (for any reason) was standardised and made doctrinal. For the previous two millennia, occasional exceptions to the 6th commandment were reasoned as necessary for national, cultural and (in some cases) personal survival. The decade of love rebranded ‘peace’ as a choice. It was no longer a luxurious state of security paid for with dead soldiers, but a primordial global condition, achievable by goodwill and blotting paper.

Since then, this absurd way of thinking has become so entrenched that even advocacy of WWII is now considered controversial and the image of dead Nazis something to philosophise about, rather than gloat over. Those of us who resist the trend meanwhile are deemed morally suspect if not nakedly evil.

It will therefore be considered foul and unkind for me to admit that I enjoy hearing about a herd of Islamists being torn apart by RAF missiles; that I relish the idea of Waffen SS troops being beaten and starved by post-war Allied occupation forces; that I smile when I read of a rogue Ghurkha beheading a captured Taliban parasite.

And perhaps even that I feel immensely proud of you, Tim. I really do. Your work has done more for the world than you might yet appreciate. Forget the pencil sharpener.

D, LDN.