Harry paused for a moment and chuckled. “Actually it’s ironic. The material the government will be banning with the Horowitz Act for the next few years will be stuff the Jews aren’t afraid of, for the most part; they’re not especially worried by The Protocols or by religious tracts which purport to prove that they’re actually the descendants of Satan. What really scares the bastards is the Aeneid — and our other books which help White people understand who they are. They know that if enough of us ever develop a historical sense and an interest in our racial roots, and those things grow into a feeling of racial identity and racial responsibility, we’ll snap out of the brotherhood-and-equality spell they’ve so carefully woven around us, and then their goose will be cooked. That’s why they’ve waged such a campaign against the Western classics in the universities.”
“You’re an optimist, Harry. It’s fine to educate people, to wake them up, to raise their consciousness. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself: making some of the interesting materials I’ve run across in my study project on the Jews more widely available, perhaps by working together with the League, since your people seem to have some experience with publishing — although recently I’ve been having some doubt about the effectiveness of such efforts. The more I think about it, the more it seems to me that no more than a fraction of a per cent of the White people in this country can be pried away from their TV sets long enough to read even a pamphlet, much less the Aeneid. But even if we educated everyone who’s educable, what could they do as long as they remained disorganized? As soon as you start trying to organize people, the government will use the Horowitz Act to put you out of business.”
“You must be referring to the provision which outlaws all organizations with racial qualifications for membership,” Harry responded. “That really doesn’t bother us, since we’re not a membership organization.”
“What do you mean, you’re not a membership organization? Who’re these other people here tonight? And the last time we were together you told me about at least two other people you described as members of this unit,” Oscar replied somewhat indignantly.
“That was last time,” Harry chuckled. “Have you heard me use the word ‘member’ in referring to anyone tonight?”
Oscar was impatient: “Come on, what kind of word game are you trying to play with me?”
“It’s the game of survival,” Harry answered, his tone now serious. “These people here are simply my friends. We get together every now and then to discuss matters of common interest. If you were a government police agent, you could never find a piece of evidence to prove otherwise.”
“Sure, I could,” Oscar replied belligerently. “I would just apply for membership. Then, after I received my membership card, I’d go before a Federal grand jury. The officers of the League would be subpoenaed and questioned. If they denied that it was a racially discriminatory organization, they’d be ordered to produce the names of all of the Black, Jewish, and Asian members. When they couldn’t name anyone, that would be the end of the League.”
“Wrong,” Harry explained patiently. “First, you wouldn’t get a membership card. Second, the officers, if subpoenaed, would refuse to answer all questions, citing the Fifth Amendment. They could, if they were so inclined, explain to the grand jury that the League is simply a non-profit corporation without members, and all of the official records would substantiate that. But, as a matter of principle, we refuse to answer questions for grand juries. The government could continue to pursue the matter if it chose to do so, but it wouldn’t find anything that could lead to a successful prosecution.”
“But what about members’ dues payments? All they’d have to do is check your bank records. And what about some fellow out in the boonies that no other member has ever met? How can he join without sending in an application form or something like that to indicate that he wants to become a member?” Oscar persisted stubbornly.
“There are no dues payments, because there are no members,” Harry continued his explanation. “Of course, we ask our friends to support the League’s work by sending in donations regularly. The corporation accepts all donations and uses the money to pay for printing, postage, and other expenses, including staff salaries. If a friend were remiss in his donations, another friend would speak to him about it.
“As for the fellow out in the boonies who wants to apply for membership… ah, excuse me, who wants to participate in our work, we’d have someone correspond with him to make a preliminary evaluation. If it seemed likely that he could fit into one of our little local circles of friends or even participate on a solo basis, we’d arrange for an interview. But there wouldn’t be any forms to fill out — and no records, or at least none the government would ever be likely to get its hands on. Believe me, Oscar, our legal advisers have been busy on this, even before the Horowitz Act became law. They’ve gone over just about every possibility and worked out ways for us to adapt to the new conditions without disrupting any of our programs.”
Oscar shook his head. “Maybe you’ll be able to stay out of jail, but what’s the point? You’ll never be able to build a politically significant organization under such constraints.”
“Politically significant? What made you think we’re trying to do anything politically significant?” Harry paused, smiled, then continued. “Well, of course, we are, in the long run. But if you’re thinking of public demonstrations and marches with lots of people, of election campaigns and so on, that will take another organization. We’ll build it when the time comes. But right now we’re trying to do something different.”
He paused again, “A couple of minutes ago you estimated that fewer than one per cent of the White people in this country are interested enough in what’s happening in the world around them to read a pamphlet. That’s not far off the mark. Most of our fellow citizens have absolutely no sense of civic or racial responsibility. It’s as if they believed that the world outside their own skins is only a sideshow for their personal amusement. What do you call that — solipsism?
“Anyway, nearly all the ones who do get involved politically are just conforming to the social pressures on their particular segment of society; they shout the same slogans that the people around them are shouting, and just as mindlessly. Almost no one is involved in a cause because he has carefully considered the situation, decided that something needs to be done, and taken upon himself the responsibility to do it, either independently or as part of a group. To me that’s what defines a human being: his acceptance of responsibility. By that standard most people are simply animals — thinking animals, but still animals, without the essence of humanity.”
Oscar felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck as Harry’s words recalled those he had so recently heard from Ryan. It was uncanny, he thought, that two men as different as William Ryan and Harry Keller — one a sworn defender of the regime, eager to use the most extreme measures against its enemies, and the other dedicated to the overthrow of that regime because of its racially destructive policies — should express the same, shockingly unorthodox view of the great bulk of their fellow men. And that he should have lived 40 years without hearing such a view, then suddenly have it thrust in his face twice within the span of a few days!
While Oscar marveled to himself over this coincidence, Harry continued speaking: “Our task now is to educate and recruit human beings — only human beings. We don’t need a mass movement for that. In fact, we can’t build or control a mass movement until we have a much stronger organization of responsible people… ah, excuse me again, until we have many more responsible friends working together. So it’s that fraction of a per cent we’re after now, the few who’re a little closer to the threshold than the rest.”
“Threshold?” Oscar asked.
“In the Nietzschean sense,” Harry replied. “The threshold between animal and man — or between man and higher man, if you prefer. In any case, between the unconscious and irresponsible on one side and the conscious, responsible prepa
rers of the way for the Superman on the other side.”
“I see,” Oscar nodded. “But I suppose the Nietzschean term which seems to me more fitting is
‘abyss’ — the Abgrund which man must cross between the animal and the Superman. My impression is that the transition is not so sharp as ‘threshold’ implies, but rather that it’s more strung out, like Zarathustra’s ‘rope over an abyss.’ In myself, for example, I recognize a mixture of the unconscious and the conscious. Sometimes when I’m searching for the truth I feel as if I’m groping through a dense fog. Everything isn’t completely dark; I’m conscious of some things. But other things are so dim that I can hardly make them out; I can’t quite grasp them in my consciousness. I suspect that there are a lot of other people out there to whom it would be inaccurate to refer as ‘animals,’ because they have at least the barest glimmerings of consciousness, the barest beginnings of a sense of responsibility — some more and some less.”
As Oscar spoke, a broad smile lit Harry’s face. “So! A fellow Nietzschean!” He grasped Oscar’s arm, genuinely pleased.
A momentary smile flitted across Oscar’s face in response to Harry’s reaction, but it immediately gave way to a frown, and he said, “I believe also that I prefer to think of the more irresponsible members of our race as children instead of as animals. You say that the possession of a sense of responsibility is what distinguishes the human being from the animal, but one can make the same distinction between adults and children instead.”
“If you wish,” Harry waved his hand. “But a child normally grows into adulthood. Most members of the generation alive today will go to their graves with no more sense of responsibility than when they were born.”
“Perhaps, perhaps,” Oscar conceded. Then he returned to his former concern: “The fact remains, there are others out there like me — at least to the extent that they are educable, that they are groping for the truth and are capable of becoming responsible adults — and I suspect that you haven’t yet located most of them. It wasn’t because of any of your recruiting efforts that I found out about you; if Carl hadn’t introduced us, I wouldn’t be here tonight. Now, with the Horowitz Act, your recruiting certainly won’t go any better.”
“On the contrary,” Harry interrupted. “The Horowitz Act should help a lot. Many people are aware of us and our goals, but they’ve put off taking any action. The Horowitz Act will make them realize how late the hour is. Already we’re getting more inquiries from people who’ve decided that the time finally has come to act.”
“Enough to succeed?” Oscar queried.
Harry shrugged, and when he spoke the worry was audible in his voice: “No one can guarantee us success. But what we’re attempting is necessary, and because it’s necessary we must believe it is possible and do our best to succeed. If it’s impossible, we’ll die trying.”
“So will the race,” Oscar added grimly.
“What are you two arguing about so seriously?” asked Adelaide, who had just walked over and slipped her arm around Oscar’s waist. Throughout his conversation with Harry he had been eyeing her with an anxiety he hoped did not show, as she chatted gaily on the other side of the room with a circle of five men who had gathered around her like moths attracted to a flame. It was clear that a couple of the other women at the meeting were irritated, and Adelaide eventually had noticed this and had broken away from her circle of admirers.
“I’m just trying to convince Harry that his organization has to buy the CBS television network away from that gang of Jews who own it in order to reach more people with his message,” Oscar answered lightly.
“That would do it,” Harry agreed. “We dream about that sort of thing. Some of our rasher mem… er, friends have proposed seizing a broadcasting studio of one of the networks during a live broadcast of a major sports event and sending a taped message up to the satellite and into 40 million living rooms. They figure we could hold off the cops for half an hour while our tape was broadcast. And believe me, we’d try it if we thought it would have a major effect. But a single broadcast, no matter how well done, won’t make much of an impression on the public. The only way to get a new idea into people’s heads or to change old ideas is through endless repetition. The first time they don’t even realize what you’ve said. After the thousandth time they begin to get the idea. And after the ten thousandth time they’re convinced.”
“Well, now, finally you’ve told me that you have some members who’ve been thinking along the same lines I have,” Oscar responded with a grin. “How do I sign up?”
“Are you serious?” asked Kevin Linden, who had just rejoined their circle.
“Yes,” Oscar answered. “I get a little impatient with Harry’s lectures sometimes, but it’s seldom that I meet a man who is able to stimulate my thinking as much as he does. I need to talk to him on a more regular basis, and so it would only be fair for me to pay my dues for the privilege. Besides, I really have been thinking seriously about changing my activities more toward the sort of things the League is doing.”
“And what have you been doing until now?” Kevin asked.
“Ah, well, mostly it’s been what you might call one-on-one persuasion, delivering the racial message to individuals or couples — although on one occasion I believe I may have influenced the thinking of a larger group. But I really find that method is too slow and would like to explore ways in which the mass media might be used to reach more people,” Oscar answered somewhat lamely.
“We’ll be happy to count you among our circle of friends in this area,” Kevin said, extending his hand to Oscar. “Harry will get some personal data from you. He’ll also notify you of meetings and will discuss with you an appropriate schedule of donations.”
“Hey, me too,” Adelaide chimed in.
XXII
Oscar took his new commitment to the National League very seriously, despite his growing misgivings about the value of educational work at such a desperate hour in his race’s struggle for survival. Fueling his fervor for the organization’s work was his inability to think of anything more effective he could do. He was inclined to believe Ryan’s assertion that a thousand men like himself could bring the government down, but the problem was to find them and recruit them; then, perhaps, would be the time to return to his former activities. Until then the League seemed the best available medium for finding the other 999 men needed for that sort of work to be conclusive in its effects.
His obsession was to find a way to utilize the mass media for the League’s message. He understood Harry’s argument about the need to reach and recruit a sufficient number of superior people before trying to move the masses, but he chafed with impatience at the slowness of the results the League was obtaining, and he was afraid of the dangers involved in such a narrow strategy. The League’s lawyers might be entirely correct, in a textbook sense, about the inability of the government to prosecute the organization under the Horowitz Act, but they were assuming that the government would be bound by its own rules. They did not realize, as he did, that in the future the government would be relying more and more on men like Ryan to protect itself: men who did not play by the rules. The only way an organization could protect itself from a government served by such men was to mobilize large masses of people-masses who could be sent howling into the streets when necessary. So instead of more history books, he began bringing books on mass communications home from the library. And he began watching more than the news programs on television; he spent dozens of hours with Adelaide watching even the most mind-numbingly insipid programs, from the game shows, with their gongs, buzzers, raucous laughter, and imbecilely grinning contestants, to the rant and cant of the faith-healing evangelists, and then analyzing with her the factors that gave them their appeal to a mass audience. He had not lost his interest in investigating the Jews’ role in the affairs of his race, from biblical times to the present, but he already knew that something had to be done about them, regardless of what his continued historical studie
s might reveal to him about their schemes and their motives. Their control of the news and entertainment media alone demanded immediate action.
Adelaide also was an enthusiastic League member. Not only did her membership in the organization seem a worthwhile activity in itself, but she was doubly pleased by its effects on Oscar. Whatever it was that he had been brooding over in the past seemed to be bothering him less now. There were fewer evenings when he made excuses for not being able to be with her, and they were together more. He was even beginning to talk with her in a definite way about marriage. They already had decided that she would give up her apartment and move in with him in June, when she had a vacation scheduled.
Three weeks after they had joined the League, and a week after their second League meeting, Harry invited Oscar and Adelaide over to meet fellow members Saul and Emily Rogers. When they arrived at the Kellers’ house Colleen ushered them down to the basement recreation room. At the foot of the stairs Oscar was startled by the appearance of the man who confronted him from the other side of the large room: he was a veritable giant, whose huge, craggy-featured, bearded head nearly brushed the ceiling, and whose piercing, blue eyes seemed to have a luminous quality to them as they transfixed Oscar in the doorway. Never before had he seen such an imposing figure.
By the time introductions had been made and everyone was seated, Oscar had recovered from his astonishment and begun to size Saul up. The man probably was between 40 and 45 years old, although his beard made him look older; at least, it emphasized an air of sternness and authority about him which usually was associated with greater age. His voice was deep and strong and had a strange, arresting quality. It was hard to imagine such a man as a schoolteacher, although he certainly would have an advantage in dealing with some of the unruly classroom punks who infested the public schools these days, Oscar thought.
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