Almost exactly a year ago, I wrote:
I’m a child of the Civil Rights Era. I’ve yearned for the day when Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream” vision would become the unquestioned reality of our nation. It has not arrived. If anything, it’s receded further from reality with every passing year.
Intelligent people who would never act so foolishly in any other venue have collaborated in the suppression of information about black-on-white violence, black cultural pathologies, and blacks’ hatred of whites. I have a special animus for “journalists” who have done so; their betrayal of their occupational responsibilities played a large part in bringing us to where we stand today.
The race war is on.
Recent black attacks on whites are the opening skirmishes.
If more and worse violence can be avoided by “negotiations,” the time for the effort is now.
I don’t plan to leave myself defenseless if they should fail.
What about you, Gentle Reader?
Given the “knockout games,” the miscellaneous black-on-white violence, the events in Ferguson, Missouri and other majority-black districts, and the continuing, completely incomprehensible willingness of the media to grant even a nanosecond’s exposure to such as the scrofulous Al “Remember Tawana Brawley” Sharpton, I think my conclusions as expressed above have been validated. Not that I’m happy about that, mind you.
When it comes to black racism toward whites and the behavior it engenders, there remains at least one cleavage to be discussed. Darin at Crusader Rabbit takes note:
Driving back to work yesterday I had two encounters with people on bicycles, particularly young, black people on bicycles.
This isn’t an unusual thing, lots of black kids ride where I live, but the younger generations ride with attitude. Particularly the attitude that they and only they own the road and the rules just don’t apply to them, this attitude occurs elsewhere as well, but more on that later.
The first encounter was as I was turning right at a traffic light. I came to a stop, checked traffic and started my turn, out of nowhere here comes a 20 something black boy coming around the corner, against traffic, cutting in so close he pushed the passenger side mirror out of whack. The second came a couple blocks later on a side street. Another 20 something black boy, this time riding with traffic, occasionally when he was on the same side of the street. He was riding zig-zag, lolly gagging around, talking on his cellphone and blocking traffic. He got kind of indignant when I came up behind him and layed on my horn, but finally got out of the way and allowed myself and two other cars to pass. One never sees an older generation black person doing these things, it’s always the younger group, the entitled group doing stupid stuff.
A division based on age can be even more informative than one based on race. Such a gulf suggests that time – specifically the length of the interval over which a set of influences have been at work — can override forces that would seem to be objectively stronger.
In short: Younger American blacks have been steeped in the racialists’ cant for so long, and to the exclusion of all else, that they’re not American; they’re simply black. By contrast, older black Americans, though they’ve been exposed to the racialists’ harangues as well, were mostly raised to different standards. They tend to be more American than black.
However, the sting in the tail is that despite the difference in attitudes and proclivities, the older blacks, in the main, refrain from disciplining the younger ones when they go wild. This might be due to apathy; it might be due to fear. But it’s at least partly due to the very same “us versus them” mindset that licenses their thuggish progeny to use the death of one of their number at a white cop’s hands as an excuse for looting and destruction.
The racialist hucksters have been allowed to rant from their pulpits for far too long. If we can’t eject them, we must countervail them so forcefully that sheer embarrassment will impel them to slink quietly away.
During the years of the Vietnam War, the subject of greatest interest was America’s attempt to buttress South Vietnam against the Viet Cong and their North Vietnamese allies. Many a conversation, including those that involved persons routinely cordial toward one another, featured an exchange like this:
War Opponent: The war is a genocidal invasion of another country and must end immediately.
War Supporter: I had some respect for you before you said that. The war was declared by Congressional resolution. It’s being fought by Americans under American leadership. Americans are dying to protect innocent South Vietnamese from the viciousness of the Viet Cong and their suppliers. If you’d rather root for the other side, you should pack your bags and move to North Vietnam. We don’t want you here.
Ah, those halcyon days of yore! But I digress. Today, race relations are at least as hot a topic. Yet you almost never hear exchanges such as the following:
Racialist Black: The anger and hostility of blacks toward whites is justified by our history of racist oppression and the legacy of slavery.
Intelligent White: I had some respect for you before you said that. Slavery is 150 years dead and was ended by the sacrifices of whites. Whites passed and enforced every civil rights act. Whites pay the freight for your ineducability, your welfarism, your illegitimacies, and your crime and violence. If you think you can justify rampant criminality on any grounds, pack your bags and move to Nigeria. We don’t want you here.
The reason, of course, is that most irritating of contemporary shibboleths, diversity. Rather than being allowed to sort ourselves out as naturally as we normally would, we’re forced to rub up against persons who have been persuaded to be at war with us. Additionally, in the case of black / white relations, the charge of racism, though it’s lost much of its steam, still retains a punch sufficient to get a man ostracized or worse. Few are the white Americans who lack all fear of it.
But the “unspoken riposte” above isn’t being wielded by intelligent blacks, either – a far greater tragedy, given their superior intimacy with their own racial kindred. The job of civilizing black youths, steeped in racialist venom, dismissive of civilized behavioral norms, and untroubled by anything resembling a conscience, has been left to us whites…and most of us are unwilling to shoulder it.
Go ahead: call me a racist. These days, my response is: Damned right I am! And if you need to know why, you can read all about it here.