Daggers

     I once referred to myself as Irish-American. Then I ran across this statement by Theodore Roosevelt:

     “The one absolutely certain way of bringing this nation to ruin, of preventing all possibility of its continuing to be a nation at all, would be to permit it to become a tangle of squabbling nationalities, an intricate knot of German-Americans, Irish-Americans, English-Americans, French-Americans, Scandinavian-Americans or Italian-Americans, each preserving its separate nationality, each at heart feeling more sympathy with Europeans of that nationality, than with the other citizens of the American Republic.”

     For lagniappe, have a compatible sentiment from Woodrow Wilson:

     “Any man who carries a hyphen about with him carries a dagger that he is ready to plunge into the vitals of this Republic whenever he gets ready.”

     Very strong words, these. As it is Saint Patrick’s Day, it seems appropriate to reflect on them, and on a few daggers that have been plunged into the American Republic by persons who carry hyphens about with them.

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     Some time ago, concerning a “Puerto Rican Day” celebration in the Big Apple, I had this to say:

     No one gets to choose his parents. (Yes, we’re getting closer to being able to choose our children via genetic engineering, but that's a subject for another tirade.) No one gets to choose where he’s born. Insofar as ethnicity is taken to imply cultural norms and practices, some are exemplary, some are tolerable, and some are most definitely vile. But the norms and practices are detachable from accidents of geography, as the experiences of Man’s “diaspora” demographics clearly demonstrate. Nothing prevents me, with my Irish-Italian parentage and my fiercely American allegiance, from adopting Russian, Iranian, or Indian norms and practices, except for my distaste for them...particularly their ideas about food.

     Pride in one’s achievements is rational and acceptable, as long as it doesn't lead one to denigrate the legitimate achievements of others. Pride in accidents of birth or geography is simple lunacy. It's intended to foster a collectivist mindset that the lightest brush with rationality would dispel...which says a lot about the intellects of those who immerse themselves in such a mindset, doesn't it?

     The same could be said about any accident of birth – and any choice of a creed.

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     I’m sure my Gentle Readers are aware of the recent mass shootings at two Christchurch, New Zealand mosques. Perhaps you’re also aware that the Islamic mouthpiece groups are trying to fabricate political and social capital from them. Needless to say, any attempt to get an accurate assessment of the 35,000-plus incidents of Islamic atrocities since Black Tuesday, September 11, 2001 is routinely shouted down by those same mouthpiece groups as “Islamophobia.”

     These folks don’t call themselves Americans. At best, they’re “Muslim-Americans.” Note the hyphen.

     One righteous Australian senator has dared to express himself on the subject:

     …and of course was immediately attacked by the Australian prime minister and other custard-headed Aussie politicians for his “racism.”

     Islam is not a race. It is a violent, imperialist ideology whose Koran and other core documents command Muslims to seek to conquer the world – not merely religiously but politically and legally as well. It wears some theological decorations that it uses to gain protection under Western freedom-of-religion laws. But Nazism used essentially the same disguise – the “Aryan race” as God’s chosen people and Adolf Hitler as its standard-bearer – and we don’t confer special respect or protection on that, do we?

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     At this point all the daggers are unsheathed. There’s no longer any dissembling about the animosities among the races, the creeds, the ethnicities, and so on. Intertribal violence has erupted several times already. We’re likely to see a lot more of it.

     The one good thing about this state of affairs is that it’s bringing a degree of clarity to what’s really been going on: a massive, multi-front struggle for power, from which each tribe seeks to emerge supreme, capable of dealing as it likes with the others, without resistance or repercussions.

     Hearken to the late George Alec Effinger:

     "Good afternoon. This is Bob Dunne, NBC News in New Haven, Connecticut. We're standing here in the lobby of the Hotel Taft in New Haven, where the first international racial war has just been declared. In just a few seconds, the two men responsible will be coming out of that elevator. (Can you hear me?)
     "—elevator. Those of you in the western time zones are probably already—"
     The elevator doors opened. Two men emerged, smiling and holding their hands above their heads in victorious, self-congratulatory boxers' handshakes. They were immediately mobbed by newsmen. One of the two men was exceptionally tall and black as midnight in Nairobi. The other was short, fat, white, and very nervous. The black man was smiling broadly, the white man was smiling and wiping perspiration from his face with a large red handkerchief.
     "—C News. The Negro has been identified as the representative of the people of color of all nations. He is, according to the mimeographed flyer distributed scant minutes ago, Mary McLeod Bethune Washington, of Washington, Georgia. The other man with him is identified as Robert Randall La Cygne, of La Cygne, Kansas, evidently the delegate of the Caucasian peoples. When, and by whom, this series of negotiations was called is not yet clear.
     "At any rate, the two men, only yesterday sunk in the sticky obscurity of American life, have concluded some sort of bargaining that threatens to engulf the entire world in violent reaction. The actual content of that agreement is still open to specu—
     "—or at any later date."
     A close-up on Washington, who was reading from a small black notebook.
     "We have thus reached, and passed, that critical moment. This fact has been known and ignored by all men, on both sides of the color line, for nearly a generation. Henceforth, this situation is to be, at least, honest, if bloodier. Bob and I join in wishing you all the best of luck, and may God bless."
     "Mr. Washington?"
     "Does this necessarily mean—"
     "—iated Press here, Mr. Washing—"
     "Yes? You, with the hat."
     "Yes, sir. Vincent Reynolds, UPI. Mr. Washington, are we to understand that this agreement has some validity? You are aware that we haven't seen any sort of credentials—"
     Washington grinned. "Thank you. I'm glad you brought that up. Credentials? Just you wait a few minutes, and listen outside. Ain't no stoppin' when them rifles start poppin'!"
     "Mr. Washington?"
     "Yes?"
     "Is this to be an all-out, permanent division of peoples?"
     "All-out, yes. Permanent, no. Bob and I have decided on a sort of statute of limitations. You go out and get what you can for thirty days. At the end of the month, we'll see what and who's left."
     "You can guarantee that there will be no continuation of hostilities at the end of the thirty days?"
     "Why, sure! We're all growed up, now, ain't we? Sure, why, you can trust us!"
     "Then this is a war of racial eradication?"
     "Not at all," said Bob La Cygne, who had remained silent, behind Washington's broad seersucker back. "Not at all what I would call a war of eradication. 'Eradicate' is an ugly term. 'Expunge' is the word we arrived at, isn't it, Mary Beth?"
     "I do believe it is, Bob."
     Washington studied his notebook for a few seconds, ignoring the shouting newsmen around him. No attempt was made by the uniformed guards to stop the pushing and shoving, which had grown somewhat aggravated. Then he smiled brightly, turning to La Cygne. They clasped hands and waved to the flashing bulbs of the photographers.
     "No more questions, boys. You'll figure it all out soon enough; that's enough for now." The two men turned and went back into the waiting elevator.

     [George Alec Effinger, “All the Last Wars At Once”]

     That’s what’s coming if the daggers aren’t resheathed. But resheathing them appears to require the segregation of the various tribes into geographically distinct nation-states – voluntarily if possible, but by force if not. In particular, the historical enmity Muslims bear toward Jews and Christians seems beyond any resolution. The deliberately fomented enmity American Negroes bear toward whites may be irreparable as well. Time will tell.

     I wrote a foreboding about one element of this some time ago. It seems unnecessarily limited and restrained today. The internecine slaughter in George Alec Effinger’s story has come to seem more likely if the tribes – racial, creedal, ethnic, what-have-you – don’t agree to go their separate ways. Doubt it if you like; I can’t.

     While I continue to pray that the tensions will somehow be dispersed and we all return to something approximating mutual tolerance, I will tell you frankly, as few others will: should it come to blows, I’ll be with the white Christian American patriots, and I’ll be shooting. I’ll have no choice, as it will be a matter of survival.

     Happy Saint Patrick’s Day.