Or were we really? The word may pop up more frequently, but it´s real meaning seems lost to most of those who now constitute the membership cadres of the "extreme right". The sad fact is that not a day goes by without the records in bickering, gossiping, conspiring and backstabbing are broken and new depths are reached in the underworld of jealousy, suspicion and hatred towards your fellow patriot.
How come? Don´t we have enough hate objects as it is? Are we so short of enemies that we have to pick our own fellow comrades instead? It seems that way. If it is not some archaic animosity towards other tribes of our White race, it is a mirror image of national border conflicts. The Irish hate the English who hate the French who hate the Germans who hate the Poles who hate the Ukrainians who hate the Russians who hate the Americans who everybody hate - it seems. As Kris Kristofferson sang: "Everybody needs somebody to look down on." But are the low-lives really found in the very racial stock we are supposed to take pride in?
And if chauvinist ramblings are not enough, competition between rival nationalist organizations within the same country is legion. I guess it always was - kind of a natural thing. But what is definitely not natural, actually more on the abnormal side, is the evil in-fighting inside one´s own organization. And I think every right-wing, populist, patriot, nationalist and national socialist organization suffers from this "all-in-the-family" sickness. Personally, I could not care less about some of the people in some of the organizations, but when I observe old comrades (or do I soon need to use quotation marks here?) in my very own Movement contaminated with the yellow streak, green-eyed, black-hearted disease, then I´ve had it. Seriously and big time.
And I have heard all the vocal symptoms before, believe me. "Traitor", "profiteer", "queer", "Jew" - and they all need to be "cleansed" out, for the "Movement´s sake". The occasional serious threat has been diluted and inflated into a pathetic witch-hunt which is motivated purely by the self-styled inquisitor´s very own lust for money, position, power, violence or just pure mischief. The so-called cleansing does nothing other than drive the sane and the serious away, leaving the sinister and the psychotic to bury what is left of the Movement in their own intrigues and gossip.
Why is it so? Are we simply, as our real opponents claim, just a bunch of wicked, wicked people, who hate so much that we cannot even get along with our closest kind? Sometimes one wonders... But then again, I feel, after years of very mixed pleasure in the nationalist camp, that despite everything there is another and more attractive (if not equally dangerous) root to our misfortunes. Actually, I´d say it is two-fold. One: We have too many followers who do not really care about politics; they just want to be "a part" (as the opposite of apart) of something. Two: that something has no success and mainly problems to offer. So instead of thinking political, analyzing ideology, strategies and tactics, our "members" blame the failures on their fellow comrades. If we just get rid of this and that, then all our worries are over - till there are neither worries nor warriors left.
Brains and guts. Think politically, behave like true comrades and act bravely.
If we degenerate into nothing but a record company with political initials,
a drinking-club for the social outcasts or a band of nightly hoodlums and
thugs, then there are more attractive and efficient alternatives than the
B&H. On the other hand, if we value the great heritage and the massive
potential of an internationally established organization such as Blood &
Honour, and if we truly believe that this movement has some unique qualities
which make it a natural gathering-point for the bravest and most active of
our people, then we should feel proud to belong to this society of White
warriors, and we should look upon every co-combatant as a spiritual brother
or sister who share a common bond and are about to create a common destiny.
That is the B&H kind of comradeship.
Your comrade Max Hammer.