I was reading yesterday about the ongoing violence and chaos at the Calais Jungle. What I did not read was an article about a French military deployment to capture and deport every migrant in this foreign tumor. Why I have not yet read such an article has many reasons, though here is a brief summary of what I did read.
Carnage in Calais: Horrific crash as jungle migrant gangs target tourists in cars in terrifying new AMBUSH technique that left our journalists covered in blood after narrowly escaping death.
* Ruthless gangs deliberately causing crashes on the roads to the French port by hurling large objects at cars.
* Home Secretary Amber Rudd has spoken out after a team of journalists narrowly escaped death last week.
* Reporter Ben Ellery and photographers Steve Burton and John McLellan were all injured.
* They had been investigating a shocking explosion of violence at the squalid migrant camp.
Here are some photos, not from Kinshasa, but its trailing western shadow.
Given their profession’s hatred for traditional Europe, bloodied journalists are typically something a guy can only ask for at Christmas. Though we’ll set that aside and pretend it’s veterinarians at issue.
It amazes to realize that Europeans driving domestic highways are subject to ambush and attack by an open base of the un-French foreign legion. And the state simply grins.
The French will elect Front National, or they will have no cause for complaint when ‘The Jungle’ is that area of land between the English Channel and Mediterranean Sea. Eventually a people either choose to live or stop deserving to.
But in reflecting on those photos, one thought kept repeating…
You know, we don’t actually have to live like this. Nothing beyond our own fanatical masochism forces us to endure being robbed, raped, assaulted, and parasitized. There is no moral mandate from Earth or heaven that we abase ourselves before feral aliens who despise and harm us. We could live normal lives.
Normal in both body and mind. We really don’t have to poke needles in our eyes whenever they see something others demand they not. Nothing makes us censor our own thoughts and scrutinize every word for an ever-expanding catalogue of contrived ‘isms. We could–we should–be able to observe our environment freely, and freely discuss what we observe.
There is no nobility in being browbeaten and brutalized. Being enlightened doesn’t mean barring your neck. And if it does, there will soon enough be no enlightened men. Lying supine in the soil as foreigners stamp tread marks on our face makes us less human, not more. Rather than another fragile tribe of man, we have come to see ourselves as vessels of virtue and our finite habitat as baptismal font–into which the world may be poured. If there is a God, he surely didn’t mean for us to presume his role.
That role includes offering others food and fecundity in lieu of our own family needs. We work and pay taxes to subsidize foreign reproduction in our stead. This process has a predictable end-point.
Universalist altruism is a moral luxury, but those who think they can afford it should understand no people do good from the grave. Whether liberal or conservative, everything in the world you cherish requires someone like you alive to defend it. We can continue rolling our heads down the demographic temple steps, though we shouldn’t be surprised when the gods remain impassive to the display.
Just because the seething, incompetent third-world lives by the principle of If they build it, we will come does not mean we must oblige them. We have a debt to our sons and daughters, not theirs. And our children are not born to be their valets.
European peoples have been far from perfect, as tongues wag daily to remind. But when brown feet vote on whose countries are closest to perfection, the global results are always unanimous. We should remember which of their body parts are telling the truth.
And the truth is that Western civilization is a gift paid for with the inspiration, sweat, and blood of our fathers. It exists so their posterity would never have to live like this.