In the midst of a terrible, fratricidal conflict that was later to become sardonically known as the Second World War, a white man spoke:
“Is there a RACE left in England? Has it ANY will left to survive? You can carry slaughter to Ireland. Will that save you? I doubt it. Nothing can save you, save a purge. Nothing can save you, save an affirmation that you are English.
Whore Belisha is NOT. Isaccs is not. No Sassoon is an Englishman, racially. No Rothschild is English, no Strakosch is English, no Roosevelt is English, no Baruch, Morgenthau, Cohen, Lehman, Warburg, Kuhn, Khan, Baruch, Schiff, Sieff, or Solomon was ever yet bom Anglo-Saxon.
And it is for this filth that you fight. It is for this filth that you have murdered your empire, and it is this filth that elects your politicians.
You have lost your tradition. You have not even learned what Lord Byron told you. You are, as even that foul rag the Times tells you, a little late in making a start.
In the year 1942 Anno Domini, there is only one start you can make. And that is a start toward being England. A refusal to be a province of Israel, or an outpost of Yankee-Judaea.”
Ezra Pound’s entreaty fluttered on the airwaves, a communique from Rome to Britain from an enlightened kinsman desperately in love with his folk.
Ezra Weston Loomis Pound was born in Hailey, Idaho in 1885. His family were comparatively well-off which afforded the precocious young Ezra Pound with many academic opportunities. He was, however, the possessor of a mutinous dispossession and clashed with his professors to the extent that his European research scholarship was unceremoniously discontinued. In 1908 Pound moved to Venice seeking fame and fortune. In the words of Jack Pershing, who addressed the National Alliance convention in 1983 on the subject of Ezra Pound in Arlington, Virginia:
“He strode along the seashore, lived on sweet potatoes and barley soup and observed the life around him, thought and wrote poetry. It was as if he was gathering his energies. In September of that year, Pound collided with London and England trembled from the impact. His energy whipped and enthusiasm captivated everyone. As William Carlos Williams phrase it, ‘he lived the poet as few of us had the nerve to live that exalted role in our time.’”
Pound befriended and patronised many of those who were to become renowned in the world of literature. Ernest Hemingway wrote of him:
“He defends [his friends] when they are attacked, he gets them into magazines and out of jail. … He writes articles about them. He introduces them to wealthy women. He gets publishers to take their books. He sits up all night with them when they claim to be dying … he advances them hospital expenses and dissuades them from suicide.”
Although Pound’s life as a celebrated paragon of poetry was indeed exemplary – notably editing arguably the most important twentieth century poem, the Wasteland by T. S. Eliot – it was his insights into the disastrous politics of that epoch and his unerring commitment to truth and his race that sets the man apart from his peers.
Pound was deeply affected by the 1914-18 war. He was both dismayed and enraged by the industrial scale liquidation of vast quantities of the best that humanity had to offer. From his 1920 poem Hugh Selwyn Mauberley:
“These fought in any case,
and some believing,
pro domo, in any case…
Some quick to arm,
some for adventure,
some from fear of weakness,
some from fear of censure,
some for love of slaughter, in imagination,
some in fear, learning love of slaughter;
Died some, pro patria,
non ‘dulce’ non ‘et décor’….
walked eye-deep in hell
believing in old men’s lies, then unbelieving
came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy:
usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.
Daring as never before, wastage as never before.
Young blood and high blood,
fair cheeks and fine bodies;
fortitude as never before
frankness as never before,
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies.
There died a myriad,
And of the best, among them,
For an old bitch gone in the teeth,
For a botched civilization,
Charm, smiling at the good mouth,
Quick eyes gone under earth’s lid.
For two gross of broken statues,
For a few thousand battered books.”
Following the ‘Great War’, Pound became acquainted with Major C. H. Douglas [author of The Monopoly of Credit] the originator of a theory of monetary reform, Douglas coined Social Credit. It soon became apparent to Pound that the fermentation of war and most malignant political intrigue were the results of the manipulation of markets and nation states by a secretive cabal of international financiers. It did not escape Pound’s attention that most of these connivers were Jews.
In Ezra Pound’s Canto XLV (With Usura), he expresses the insidious essence of debt-based credit [abridged by N.G.]:
“With usura hath no man a house of good stone
each block cut smooth and well fitting
no picture is made to endure nor to live with
but it is made to sell and sell quickly
with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour
with usura the line grows thick
with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling.
Stonecutter is kept from his stone
weaver is kept from his loom
wool comes not to market
sheep bringeth no gain with usura
Usura rusteth the chisel
It rusteth the craft and the craftsman
It gnaweth the thread in the loom
None learneth to weave gold in her pattern;
Usura slayeth the child in the womb
It stayeth the young man’s courting
It hath brought palsey to bed, lyeth
between the young bride and her bridegroom
They have brought whores for Eleusis
Corpses are set to banquet
at behest of usura.”
Anguished by the British involvement in World War One, Pound moved from London to Paris in 1921 and from there he travelled to a small Italian town called Rapallo, where he became intrigued with Mussolini and his vision of a new, racially-conscious Italy. From this ideological citadel, Pound began to write, observe and associate himself with Mussolini. Following their first meeting in 1933, Pound reported that he had:
“never met anyone who seemed to GET my ideas so quickly as the boss.”
During the saber-rattling of the 1930s, Ezra Pound went to war with world Jewry.
In 1939, Pound sailed to the USA in an attempt to avert the impending catastrophe. Although he engaged with many anti-war politicians and imparted his shrewd and sagacious insights on world affairs at various lectures, including at Harvard, it was to no avail and Pound soon returned to Italy, with the white world once again on the brink of chaos.
With the support of the fascist regime, Pound began to broadcast from Rome under the designation ‘The American Hour’. In an early 1940 radio address, Pound stated:
“The big Jew is so bound up with this Leihkapital that no one is able to unscramble that omelet. It would be better for you to retire to Derbyshire and defy New Jerusalem, better for you to retire to Gloucester and find one spot that is England than to go on fighting for Jewry and ignoring the process. . . . You let in the Jew and the Jew rotted your empire, and you yourselves out-jewed the Jew. . . . And the big Jew has rotted EVERY nation he has wormed into.”
In a 1941 broadcast, Pound poured cold water on the notion that the war was being fought for democracy. From “Last Ditch of Democracy”:
“It’s a DITCH all right. Democracy has been LICKED in France. The frogs were chucked into war AGAINST the Will of the people. Democracy has been licked to a frazzle in England where it never did get a look in ANY—HOW. But even pseudo-democracy breaks down when a people is chucked into war against its will, and the Brits. never VOTED Winston into the premiership. In fact WHEN DID they have an election ?
Remember it is the government in England that decides WHEN to have an election. Think where we would be if Mr. Roosevelt could merely POSTPONE elections till he got ready to have one.
Well, democracy is in her last DITCH, and if she ain’t saved in America. NO ONE is going to save her in her parliamentary form.”
In July 1942, Pound’s frustration at the continuing inter-racial conflict was palpable:
“You are in black darkness and confusion. You have been hugger-muggared, and carom-shotted into a war, and you know NOTHING about it. You know NOTHING about the forces that caused it, or you know next to nothing.
I am in the agonized position of an observer who had worked 25 years to prevent it. And I am not the only observer who had so striven.
Apparently NO man could prevent it, that is up to the point that it was not prevented. A belief in destiny does NOT necessarily imply a belief that we have NO duty, that we should NOT attempt to learn, that we should sit supine before age-old evil.
Given a little more knowledge, given the elimination of a small number of shysters, the war need not have happened.
Well, Europeans who ought to have known more than American farm boys got toppled into it BECAUSE they were ignorant. Books may sell 15 editions in 40 years without penetrating the mind of a nation. Some things that I say are NOT new, but I believe they are all necessary to knowin’ which way the wind blows. You have got to learn some things or die, got to learn some things or perish.”
Ezra Pound produced over one hundred broadcasts from the continent to the Occident but, in the end, the forces of darkness, and those brave fools who murdered and died whilst blinkered by lies and a deteriorating moral sentiment, crushed the remaining vestige of sanity from the Western world.
On April 28th 1945, Benito Mussolini and his mistress, Clara Petacci, were captured and executed by barbaric Communist partisans, their bodies were later hung upside-down from a petrol station for all to observe and as a symbol of things to come.
Ezra Pound was arrested in May of the same year and was turned over to the Americans. For three weeks Pound was kept like an animal in a six foot by six and a half foot wire cage; he was sixty years of age. Although the conditions were appalling, Pound’s spirit and sanity endured. His body, however, began to fail him and he collapsed while confined within, what he had termed, the “gorilla cage”. Pound was eventually moved into a POW tent and held without trial for six months until being deported to Washington DC.
Pound was found to be insane by an American tribunal and was directed to St. Elizabeth’s hospital and interned in a ward for the criminally insane. From Jack Pershing’s 1983 National Alliance convention speech:
“A grim human warehouse built in the 1880’s, it would be Pounds home for eighteen months. His cell had a black steel door with nine peepholes to allow observation of the lunatic within. Madmen shambled up and down the hall outside, drooling and gibbering. Visitors recall the overpowering odours of sweat and bile.”
In early 1947, Pound was finally relocated to an orderly ward and was permitted daily visitation rights. He remained at St. Elizabeth’s until May 1958 when the poet Robert Frost, who Pound had profoundly inspired and influenced, spearheaded a campaign to have him released. The treason indictment against him was quashed and he was discharged. At the age of 73, Pound immediately moved back to his beloved Italy where he was photographed giving the fascist salute and quoted as saying, “All America is an insane asylum!”
Pound stands out as a man who our enemies could not break or bend to their will. Men of such calibre could effortlessly have shunned their responsibilities and indulged in the pursuit of the corporeal and material, as so many educated men of our race do today. But the qualities required to stalk a heroic life rather than merely meander through a happy existence are rare indeed, especially in our post-war age of treason. For heroes like Pound, the need to resist came from within, it was forged within his DNA, within the crucible of the white race. Only struggle and extreme pressure will create a new world and it is from men such as Ezra Pound that we can draw our inspiration.
In the concise words of Ezra Pound, “If a man isn’t willing to take some risk for his opinions, either his opinions are no good or he’s no good.”
I would urge every reader to familiarise themselves with the man, his epic story and his work.