Ragnar Redbeard - Might Is Right

Compare the noble qualities inherent in some dogs with the obsequious “virtues” that distinguish nine men out of ten. Now, give to canine or homo equal liberty of action — equal opportunity — equal “rights”: and what will be the result? Must not the fiercest fighter fatten, while the skeletons of lean weaklings project through their scrofulous hides? What power originating among themselves could dictate and enforce — equality of opportunity?

Socialism, Christianism, Democratism, Equalityism, are really the whining yelpings of base-bred mongrel-multitudes. They howl aloud for State intervention — “protection for suffering humanity” — regulated mill-grinding as it were; with the State to be their Supreme Idol, their God and Master, their All in All, their Great Panjandrum. Poor deluded base spirited “weeds.” Truly the “Curse of God” is in the very marrow of their bones — in every pump-stroke of their dying hearts.

The man who prays to be “protected” by politicians, guarded by armed Janissaries, saved by idolatrous priests, and redeemed by State Regimentation is indeed a miserable sinner — a vile, despicable, un-manly wretch.

No paternalistic governmental mechanism (however theoretically perfect), can ever keep the base-born and well-born, the thoroughbreds and the hybrids, in a state of perpetual equilibrium. You might as well try to bind down an earthquake with hoop-iron, as to rule the Strong with “be it enacted.” “Be it enacteds” were invented only to frighten captives with.

What power on earth can permanently keep the Negro on a parity with the Anglo-Saxon?

The Strong must have their way in spite of all puritanical proscribings, all mock moralisms, all degrading legalisms, all constitutional covenantings. Neither the machinery nor the raw material of equality has ever existed; only the dream, the idea of it. Equality! Equality! in that one word is summed up the accumulated dementia of two thousand years! The thought of it was born in the brain of an inferior organism: and the brains of the inferior organisms nourish it still.

How can beings who for ages have been born and bred to toil and subjectitvity, ever comprehend the feelings of those who are free-born, and of valorous descent — of those who understand the cosmic law that Might is — Master?

You cannot muzzle a tempest with a cobweb, bridle a volcano with a shoe-string, bottle up a cyclone in a powder horn, nor catch a tidal wave with a boat-hook. Neither can you put a bit between the teeth of the Strong. They will see you — in Sheol first.

No artificial plan of society — no pious incantations however sincere and well intentioned; can ever prevent the pot that is of iron from smashing and sinking, the pot that is of clay — and why should it? If social equilibrium had been feasible, it would have been established ages and ages ago. It has never been established — and it never shall. [11] "Man has a right to subsistence", wrote Thomas Paine. «Yes» replied an observant reader, "he has a right to live one thousand years, IF HE CAN." It is not a problem of Right but of Ability & Strength.

What then is the good of eternally dreaming, theorizing, and constructing phantom castles-in-the-air, cities of god, and gardens of delight, upon foundations of deliberate unveracity? Let us be men — whole men — not clamorous, tearful little children demanding infantile sugar-plumbs. Let us face the fierce challenging facts of existence as boldly as our forefathers did before “Christly comfort and consolation” was introduced to un-man them — not like crouching, cringing, terrorized, oriental pariahs. Let us not be lured to wholesale annihilation by sonorous Asiatic evangelisms, that have proved themselves worthless and unsuitable to our temperament, our climate, and our breed. Let us be sensible, brave, practical; and as Virchow somewhat trenchantly recommends: — “ Accept things as they truly are, not as we chose to imagine them ” — or rather as they have been imagined by dotard philosophers, daft poets, and castrated clerics.

The problem that we are ever called upon to solve or be eaten up, is not how to make life ‘happy and equal’ for happiness is a moving mirage, and equality an impossibility but how men may conquer their Opportunities, surpass their Rivals, extirpate their Pursuers.

The race is still to the swift and the battle to the strong. Beauty and booty are always the prerogatives of victorious valor. Woe unto the outgeneralled ones!

Upon the island of Java there is a remarkable valley of death. It is literally strewed with the bones and skulls and skeletons of innumerable dead animals and creeping things. In the due season, giant turtles, five foot by three in diameter, travel up through it from the sea, to lay their eggs. En-route, they are set upon by packs of wild dogs and these dogs roll the turtles upon their backs and then devour them alive, by tearing out their unprotected entrails. When the dogs are gorged, they in their turn, fall an easy prey to ambushing tigers. Then hunters kill these tigers for their variegated skins. Rank grass springs up after the rainy season, through the skulls and bones that litter this tropical golgotha and droves of cattle gather there to fatten. Again the cattle are hunted for their hides, horns, and flesh, and their bones are also left where they fall, to manure the valley and prepare it for new generations of hunters and hunted. Such is in miniature, a picture of the everyday world as it actually is. All living beings are pursuing and — being pursued.

Woe unto those that stumble! Woe unto Ye who fall!

They who accept the “Equality, Faith, Hope, and Charity” ideal, in any shape or form whatever, interpret the facts of mortal life as they are not — as they have ever been, as they can never be. Indeed when the animal world becomes ‘moralized’ and ‘equalized’ it will be extinct. No doubt when contemplating the dark side of all this, Pascal was impelled to write with superstitious medieval diapason: — ‘I am affrighted like a man who in his sleep has been carried unto some horrible desert island, and there awakes, not knowing where he is, nor how he shall escape.’

Degenerates only are thus affrighted at the tragic majesty of their surroundings.

If this struggle is ordained of us, why not enter into it with kingly courage, with dauntless delight? Why not go forward, daring all things, to conquer or to die?

Is it not better to perish than to serve? “Liberty or death” is not a meaningless phrase. No! it is of tremendous import to those who — comprehend.

What is death that it should make cowards of us all? What is life that it should be valued so highly? There are worse things than death and among them is a life of dishonor. All men lead dishonorable lives who serve a master with hand or brain.

Life itself is but a spark in the gloom that flashes out and disappears. Why therefore not make the most of it here and now — Here and Now!

There is no “heaven of glory bright,” and no hell where sinners roast. There is no Right, there is no wrong — nor God — nor Son — nor Ghost.

For us there is no rest — no Kingdom of Indolence, either on this earth or beyond the skies — no Isles of the Blest — no Elysian Fields — no garden of the Hesperides. No! No! All these magical legends are but fanciful waking dreams — “fiction of mortals of yore.”