Why Seb Ronin Needs Balls. (Or, why WN’s need poets, part II).


~ All are born Yankees of the race of men
And this, too, now the country of the damned ~ Tate

White nationalists walk a scary line when they reject their poets.

Yes, yes, I know.  I can hear the WN’s objecting now.  “We have Ezra Pound!”  I reply, “sure, but how many rank and file WN’s understand what T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound meant in their poems?  How many simply accept Pound because he had a few hilarious and accurate criticisms of jews?”  I’d be willing to bet that any WN who cites Pound does so only because of Pound’s infamy, not out of any notion that Pound is necessary for a successful identity movement.

If asked, the average WN might freely admit that he could take or leave poetry, and that’s truly a shame.

Here’s why:

To have a successful identity movement (a movement with the explicit aim of rocketing a particular group above their fellows in the attempt to ensure the group’s rights and dignities are not infringed) one must first have a successful identity.

And this, the white nationalists do not have.

As a matter of fact, white nationalists are suffering very much from an actual *lack* of identity; a very dangerous and sad situation for them.  The situation is further exasperated by the hostility towards, and malicious characterizations of, white people in the popular culture.

So not only do white nationalists have no real identity, they are constantly battling very ugly pictures of themselves in society.  A vast, trillion dollar industrial scientific machine is churning away at all hours, pumping out negative view after negative view of white folk.

Imagine the brave fairy tale prince, locked in an evil sorcerer’s dungeon, and all he has is an enchanted mirror.  Every day he sees in it a haggled, worn out, ridiculous looking troll.  The first few weeks, or maybe even the first year, he might remember this isn’t a real reflection, but after years of this sort of demoralizing brainwashing, there’s no doubt the prince’s determination wears away and all memory of his actual image fades.  He *becomes* the disheveled, dirty, troll.

Further, white nationalists would do well to heed the words of the greatest Southern Agrarian, Donald Davidson:

“A civilization that says to the poet ‘Go up, thou bald head!’ by that act, proves itself ripe for a condemnatory sentence.  Rejection of poetry is the sign that the civilization is preparing its own doom.  And after the catastrophe, be it sudden or only a decline and fall, all that survives is the rejected poetry, the religion if any, and whatever else, being immaterial tradition, is not subject to physical destruction.  The rest is nothing but ruins to be picked over by archaeologists and historians”.  ~ Poetry as Tradition

Most white nationalists are modernists, and this is their greatest flaw.  They’ve rejected poetry; and, poetry as Donald Davidson means it, is that imperishable folk wisdom, presented to the world by the poet, that romanticizes and “identifies” the nature of the group of people therein.

White Nationalists have rejected tradition in favor of  the strictly scientific worldview of contemporary, industrialized America.  They are not unified by fairy tale stories or sentimental remembrances; they have nothing like the nostalgia for hearth and home so important to the lives of our ancestors.

They have pseudo or counter-cultural distinctives;  heavy metal, tattoos, a certain clothing style (be it leather jackets and boots on one end, or suits and ties on the other), or a penchant for constantly boring their friends with conversations about this or that element of scientific data.  At best, they might have a set of pet issues.  And they all reject Jesus Christ.

But their “whiteness” remains abstract – it has no legitimate concrete representative in the real world; it only exists in White Nationalist political tracts, or in their vacuous allusions to “the cause” or “our people”.


A good example of this sort of person is the chairman of the new Renaissance Party, Seb Ronin.  He focuses on peak oil in the hopes of convincing everyone that once this valuable source of energy runs out, civilization as we know it will collapse, leaving room for various ethno-states to re-emerge as legitimate actors on the international stage.

Only problem is, very few people will be willing to unite around abstract principles like this.

What’s the solution?

Instead of focusing on political parties and efforts, these leaders need to concentrate their energies on re-asserting their own, unique, regional identities.  They need to find poets in their movement – men (or women) who can stare long and hard at the ridiculous troll in the sorcerer’s mirror, and see past the enchantment to the charming, beautiful truth!

Then they need to write about it, or make movies about it, or sing songs about it.

And what better way of fostering a culture of community, than by sponsoring community events like … balls?  Dances.  Hoe-downs.  Shin-digs.  Hootenannies.  Whatever you call them, support them!  And support themed balls as well:  imagine a medieval or renaissance ball, where proper dances are performed, and perhaps a few of the industrious guys stage a duel over the hand of some lady in the crowd?

You need balls Seb Ronin.  Poets and balls.

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9 Responses to Why Seb Ronin Needs Balls. (Or, why WN’s need poets, part II).

  1. Douglas says:

    Hey Shotgun, email him. Peak oil is crap and poets are great.


    They had a recent rally in Toronto, Ontario in front of the South Afircan embassy.

    Hope the Council of Conservatice Confrence went well this year.


  2. Dana says:

    I find this to be true to a certain extent, but it is a heavy generalization. Look at counter-currents and their strategy of metapolitics, for one. We have plenty of people who are much deeper than how we are commonly stereotyped.

  3. “Shotgun”, I saw you were a moderator at Traditionalist Youth Network. Are you going to start a N. C. chapter?

  4. “All around the world everybody knows (White countries for everyone)”

    Oh my love, oh my soul
    Me and you know it hurts to see our world wash away like castles made of sand
    Like money slipping through our hands
    Hey, tonight, the future’s in our hands

    All around the world everybody knows
    Asia for the Asians
    White countries for everyone
    Africa is for the Africans

    We’re the pieces of a puzzle
    But, it seems we’re the spaces in between

    There’s no shades of grey so don’t turn away
    Don’t look back on love and say what might have been
    But it’s just a daydream deep inside my head
    Can we have our homeland?
    Those anti-whites, no, they don’t understand

    All around the world everybody knows (Anti-whites)
    Asia for the Asians
    White countries for everyone
    Africa is for the Africans (No, no, no)

    (Anti-whites) We’re the pieces of a puzzle
    But, it seems we’re the spaces in between (Anti-whites – no, no, no)


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