I can’t help it; I have a scientist’s preference for data over opinions. I have another preference as well: for life, limb, and property. So I respect data about crime. In particular, I respect data about where the majority of crimes against person and property are committed. I avoid those districts to the extent possible – which these days means just about all the time.
No region on this planet is completely safe, of course, but using “statistical common sense” helps to reduce the risks to life, limb, and property as far as they can be reduced. So I respect the sort of advice John Derbyshire gives in “The Talk – Nonblack version:”
A small cohort of blacks–in my experience, around five percent–is ferociously hostile to whites and will go to great lengths to inconvenience or harm us. A much larger cohort of blacks–around half–will go along passively if the five percent take leadership in some event. They will do this out of racial solidarity, the natural willingness of most human beings to be led, and a vague feeling that whites have it coming.
Thus, while always attentive to the particular qualities of individuals, on the many occasions where you have nothing to guide you but knowledge of those mean differences, use statistical common sense:
- Avoid concentrations of blacks not all known to you personally.
- Stay out of heavily black neighborhoods.
- If planning a trip to a beach or amusement park at some date, find out whether it is likely to be swamped with blacks on that date (neglect of that one got me the closest I have ever gotten to death by gunshot).
- Do not attend events likely to draw a lot of blacks.
- If you are at some public event at which the number of blacks suddenly swells, leave as quickly as possible.
- Do not settle in a district or municipality run by black politicians.
- Before voting for a black politician, scrutinize his/her character much more carefully than you would a white.
- Do not act the Good Samaritan to blacks in apparent distress, e.g., on the highway.
- If accosted by a strange black in the street, smile and say something polite but keep moving.
It’s a mini-sermonette about our present-day culture that the great majority of whites who read the above recoil from it in a kind of horror. Yet the great majority of them behave in accordance with Derbyshire’s advice. It’s hard to draw any inference other than the one I drew in this essay:
The essence of the taboo in American society is linguistic: not to speak the forbidden thought or attitude.
Any knowledge, however well confirmed, that a white American possesses that illustrates differences among the races as statistical aggregates must never be expressed in words. However, one may make use of the knowledge encapsulated in Derbyshire’s brief essay, as long as it’s never articulated where the shamans can hear.
Here’s something else I can’t help: contempt for those who knowingly lie about what they know full well. Thus, this piece at Chicks On The Right distressed me greatly. I shan’t excerpt it here. Read it and form your own opinions.
Perhaps “Martin” had an ulterior motive for his query. It doesn’t matter. As a white woman “Mockarena” would know that she’d be in elevated danger were she to blithely disregard Derbyshire’s counsel. She must know it. She probably behaves in accordance with it. But it’s plain from the exchange she presented that she would never, ever say so.
It’s cowardice and worse than cowardice, for it tacitly promulgates a falsehood. That falsehood could cause young, more impressionable Americans to take serious, unnecessary risks…probably out of a sense that it’s their duty to express “solidarity with the marginalized.” That’s worse than distressing; it’s contemptible.
It’s one thing to vow, privately or publicly, always to treat individuals on their individual merits. That’s praiseworthy. It’s what’s expected of us as decent persons. But when people act in and as groups, disaggregating the group into individuals and treating with each of them on his merits is flatly impossible. In such circumstances it’s the path of prudence to go with what you know. Thereafter, it’s the path of candor to own up to it – and never, ever to deceive others, whether directly or by implication, about the reasons for one’s decisions and actions.
America needs more than a return to the rule of law. We need a return to candor and sincerity as well – and no mincing about simply to avoid “hurting their feelings.” It’s high time. Charles Murray will tell you.
I disagree with your criticism of Mockarena. Martin was quite clearly attempting to trap her into making a racist statement, most likely to use against her. See, it is the ultimate insult both to liberals, and in today’s society to be branded as a racist.
The claim has excused murder (OJ trial), serious attacks, and many other crimes. To be accused of racism will end your career, and do quite a bit of damage to your public reputation.
You cannot mention that blacks have lower credit scores, even though those scores do not take anything into account that isn’t directly related to the consumer’s responsibility with credit.
You are not permitted to mention that more than half of US murders are committed by the 13% of the population that happens to be black, nor are you permitted to state that, on average, blacks are less intelligent than whites. In every testing metric: IQ tests, the SAT, and the GRE, blacks earn lower scores than do whites. To the politically correct, this is proof that the test is flawed and racist. Never you mind that Asians score higher than whites, which would seem to indicate that whites are not writing racist exams, because anything which places blacks in a poor light is, according to society, racist.
Nope, they bundle these facts into one ball and label it “white privilege.” Deny it, and you are a racist who must be destroyed.
“To suppress a truth is to give it force beyond endurance.” — Victor Hugo
Evading direct answers to important, penetrating questions is for politicians. Never mind who poses them or why.
Born smack dab on the Mason Dixon line, I learned to be circumspect in my speech. You never knew who you were addressing, which side they were on, even long time acquaintances could surprise you with their views. Thus you employed shibboleths. Words that told the truth without having to spell it out. War of Northern Aggression vs Civil War is pretty clear. Pro life vs pro choice, same. Words about race are less so. On purpose. Colored Gentlemen was my father’s usual line. Quaint sounding today, it bore all the baggage of the real issue without necessarily giving offense. Methinks I shall continue that one. Never forget, none of us are truly white nor black. When this time is past, we surviving Americans are going to have to live with our differences.
As a dumb college student from New Hampshire, I went with two friends to visit an old classmate attending Columbia back in 1967. We were there for a long weekend and of course wanted to make the party scene. While “sightseeing” late one afternoon, we got off on the wrong subway stop, finding ourselves lost in the middle of Harlem.
Dusk was fast approaching and our combined Spidey sense was alerted. We were the only white guys in that part of the city. All of a sudden a large bottle crashed on the sidewalk, missing us by inches, having been tossed from several stories up. Instant panic overtook us, but we tried to remain cool. The three of us were athletic and in good shape, but this was not an environment we would last long in. The looks from nearby ghetto rats were not encouraging. For the first time in my life I could sense what it felt like to be preyed upon. Suddenly, an old black gentleman rescued us. He told us not to go towards Central Park, as that would meet with certain disaster, but instead directed us to a subway station that would get us out of danger.
Fast forward 55 years. My son and I took my 9-year-old granddaughter to Pensacola to see a minor league baseball game a few years ago. We parked about 6 blocks away from the stadium in an old, newly gentrified neighborhood consisting of small retail shops. After the game most of these places had closed. I could feel my granddaughter’s hand tighten in mine as she noticed the threatening looks of the black, homeless males in the doorways to these unoccupied businesses. After getting safely to the car my son and I had “the talk” with her. Situational awareness, people. It only takes one time to mess up.