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Nov. 1, 2012 - Radio Free Nortwest - H.A. Covington
01:08:15
20121101_rfn
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Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, tell me why you hurry so.
Hush a woogle, hush and listen, and his cheeks were all aglow.
I bear orders from the captain, get you ready quick and soon, for the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, for the pikes must be together by the rising of the moon.
Oh, then tell me, Sean O 'Farrell, where the gathering is to be?
In the old spot, by the river, rifle known to you and me.
One more roar for signal, token whistle of the marching tune, for your bike upon your shoulder by the rising of the moon.
By the rising of the moon, by the rising of the moon, With your eyes upon your shoulder, by the rising of the moon.
Out from many a mud-walled cabin eyes were watching through the night, Many a man's day chest was throbbing for the blessed warming light.
Warpers passed along the valleys like the man she's lonely crew, And a thousand blades were flashing at the rising of the moon.
Out from many a mud-walled cabin eyes were flashing at the rising of the moon.
And a thousand blades were flashing at the rising of the moon.
Greetings from the Northwest Homeland, comrades.
It's November the 1st, 2012.
I'm Harold Covington, and this is Radio Free Northwest.
First off, I'd like to give a shout-out to all our listeners in the Northeast who are now without power due to Hurricane Sandy, and that may include Gretchen the Librarian, among other people.
Hope you guys made it through the big storm okay.
I like to think of it as God venting his wrath on that cesspool in New York City and all those damn little blue states up there.
It even appears that the Almighty himself is so sick of Barack Hussein Obama twirling around in his swivel chair in the Oval Office like a monkey that he's trying to suppress the Democrat vote, maybe to counteract the coming Democrat vote fraud in Ohio.
This will be the last Radio Free Northwest before the great dog and pony show known as the presidential election.
By next week's show, I guess we'll know which faction among our ruling elite managed to rig the most voting machines.
After some last-minute rethinking and recalculating, I still have to go with Obama, because number one, I'm not kidding about the eight-year presidential arrangement that I think the two major parties have been operating under for the past generation.
Number two, I have infinite faith in the essential dishonesty of the Democrats and in their ability to steal elections and commit massive vote fraud.
On the day on which I'm actually making this recording, there are several articles in the media to the effect that the Democrats are diddling Ohio, which has been a key state in the past elections, one of the so-called swing states in the Midwest with enough electoral votes to swing an election one way or the other, in this case 18 electoral votes.
They've got early voting in Ohio now, which in my opinion is in and of itself a potential for a lot of scamming and fraud.
And in Marion, Ohio, they're using fancy electronic voting machines for this early voting.
Trouble is, when you touch Mitt Romney's name for president, Barack Obama's name actually lights up.
Ironically, Marion, Ohio was the hometown of President Warren G. Harding back in the 1920s, one of the most notoriously corrupt and incompetent presidents in American history after Bill Clinton and Franklin Roosevelt and George W. Bush.
So I'm sticking with my prediction that Obama will win, although I'm very much hoping that I'm wrong, if only so I can see people like Arianna Huffington and Jon Stewart and Michael Moore and Rachel Maddow freak out and go into a St. Vitus' dance.
And I can hear them scream and scream and scream.
Anyway, next week I'll give you all a long and detailed analysis of what I think may be coming in the near future, depending on which faction comes out on top.
Hippy-dippy 60s retreads, or the Jew-worshipping neocons?
For now, let's do some emails.
This is from a guy who left a comment on the ThoughtCrime blog, and whose name I didn't bother to keep, because I think this may not actually be a question, but a heckle from an asshole.
But I've had this before in the form of a legitimate question, so here goes.
Dear HAC, why are you offering fighting fantasy and not looking to build long-term, 150-year infrastructure like the Arabs are doing with Hamas and Hezbollah?
Since, in a sense, this is a legitimate criticism no matter who's making it, I'll treat it as a serious question.
First off, because while Muslims have time and global demographics on their side, white people do not.
For us, time and demographics are our enemy.
Muslims are not in danger of extinction within two or three more generations.
White people are.
Of all the five major races of the world, the white, the black, the yellow, the brown, and the Jewish, only the white man is in any danger of disappearing from the face of the earth.
We don't have the time to plan out a campaign of building infrastructure lasting over many generations like the Muslims are doing.
Of course, if we'd started working on Northwest migration and establishing a white homeland back in the 1950s when all this started, things would be very different now.
But we didn't.
We wasted the years from 1953 until 2002 on a whole procession of dead ends and false messiahs and emperors who had no clothes.
And, of course, I myself wasted a lot of those years ranting and raving and cursing about the nude emperors, so I'm certainly not blameless.
To be fair, print-per-order publishing, which is what made the publication of the Northwest novels possible, didn't come along until about 1999.
But still, we basically lost two generations, and that's a deficit that can't be made up.
There's also the consideration that 150-year long-term infrastructure planning requires massive amounts of money.
No, not money, actual capital in the economic sense of the term.
We don't have that and are not likely to be able to get it in any time frame that matters.
White nationalism apparently has not yet created the necessary spiritual awakening in our own people which will lead them to support our causes financially.
We are still a hobby.
We are a form of entertainment on the internet that may be worth a few bucks, kind of like tipping a waiter.
Or my favorite comparison is that I'm a busker.
I'm the guy you see in front of the tube station in London, or in the park, or on the street corners, playing my guitar and singing my little ballads or whatever, and people who walk by on their way to all the other fascinating and so much more important events in their lives throw a few coins in my open guitar case on the ground in front of me.
Those tips keep me singing on the street corner, but they don't give me the startup capital to let me create a whole record company and break into the market if you get my drift.
The fact is that by the time most white people discover the fact that we exist, those few that do ever discover that we exist, they are so dirt...
And they've already made their mistakes in life that will ensure that they remain dirt poor, that even when we can get them to donate the minimum requested $10 a month, in most cases that's about all we can get from them.
The Arab world, on the other hand, has about 30 sovereign national governments with all kinds of oil money and rich sheiks and capitalists and multinational banks and corporations and whatnot that support Muslim causes, not to mention the millions and millions of Muslims who drop a few pennies or dinars or whatever in the Al-Qaeda or Hamas can in their mosques on Friday.
They can afford to take a 150-year long-term view, which, frankly, they'll probably win.
For us, for any white nationalist group, the receipt of a three-figure contribution is a historic event.
Revolutions are not made by buskers singing on street corners for tips thrown into the open guitar case on the ground.
They're made by full symphony orchestras and concert halls performing on nationwide television, again, if you get my analogy.
So, this leads into another question, which I was debating online earlier this week with my old comrade from North Carolina, Ed Peacock.
Now, I can't recall if I've ever talked about this specifically on Radio Free Northwest before, but you might call this the formalization question.
In essence, the question is, why not a proper National Alliance-style membership organization?
Ed and some others have been saying this for some time, urging this on me.
This is a discussion that we've been having for years, so I'll give you a collage or selection of more or less direct quotes from some of his letters and emails down through the corridors of time.
Quote, Harold, the first rule for success in any business is you have to know your market and give the people what they want.
Somehow or other, you have got to start collecting that $10 every month from every one of those 5,000 listeners you get each week.
So, give them what they want.
Americans are rootless and lonely and confused and alienated.
They want that feeling of belonging to something greater than they are.
So, give it to them.
Formalize it.
Give them their membership cards in the Northwest Front that they can hold onto as a security blanket.
Give them their volunteers and their sergeants and lieutenants and their gruppenführers.
If they want some kind of uniform, give them that as well.
That's about the only thing that keeps the so-called NSM together is their playing dress-up and calling themselves captains and colonels and whatnot.
So what if they're only kids playing army?
Let them, if it keeps the movement together and gets you what you need to keep on producing, especially if it will get you the money you need to buy that crucial plot of land and put some trailers on it.
I think that's a fairly accurate and fair presentation of the formalizer's case.
Now, it is not just Ed who feels this way, and this is an internal debate that's been going on among a lot of the more perceptive white nationalists for a long time, not just in our group.
It started back with the leaderless resistance idea of Lewis Beam, which I myself have criticized because, in practice, it turned out to be all leaderless and no resistance.
So, before anyone points out the fact, yes, I have been on the other side of this question in the past.
These formalizers, I guess you'd call them, do have a certain point.
The greatest success, if you want to call it success, that any of our groups have experienced over the past 50 years has always been based around a building or a piece of land that somebody like Bob Miles or Richard Butler was able to buy, usually with his life savings.
Or else because somebody was able to persuade one of the few remaining wealthy supporters we have to finally write a man-sized check.
Or in at least one case, because the Order knocked over an armored car.
The acquisition of a building or a few acres of land with a few trailers and prefabs on it, the fabled compound of song and story, enables us to create a small fragment of what you might call liberated territory.
A mini-homeland, kind of like a miniature golf course.
A place where we can go and see our own flags flying in the air, where we can have nice picnics and just plain breathe easy for a few hours.
And Ed has a point.
Both he and I have seen people drive for days across seven or eight states just to visit a storefront headquarters building and sit in the literature room and talk to the duty officer for a few hours before beginning the long drive home again so they can be back at work on time.
They do this just to physically meet with other white people, to know that there are others, and that something, however small, is in fact being done outside the narrow trench of their own wretched lives.
And for a few hours, when they step onto the property, to feel the weight of this filthy, poisonous world lift off their shoulders like they really have come home to a white homeland.
It's a magical, wonderful feeling.
I wish I could provide it for you guys.
I really do, because 40 years later, I still get emails from guys my age and older who remember the old headquarters in El Monte, on Franklin Road, on North Street in Raleigh.
Glenn Miller's Farm, and of course many, many people still remember Aryan Nations and Hayden Lake.
It's almost legendary now.
Guys, I really do wish I could give you that wonderful feeling.
That having been said, do I need to go over with you yet again why this can't be?
Do I need to go over with you yet again why we can't have things like membership cards and formal membership and formal dues and sergeants and captains and chief cooks and bottle washers and emperors of the north?
Do I need to go over with you yet again why, in the long run, it's better for me to do without the extra dues money formalization would bring in rather than go down the same road that Miller and Pierce and Butler did and end up like they did?
No, that's a serious question.
I've been considering doing a separate podcast as a kind of canned answer to this whole question of organization, this formal versus the loosey-goosey.
Kind of like the special podcast I did on immigration, so that rather than continue to bore you guys with constant repetition of all this every 4th or 5th Radio Free Northwest, I can just refer people who want to talk about this back to the special podcast.
Do I need to do this?
Let me hear from you.
Back in the early 1970s, there were a number of young Americans who went to Rhodesia to serve in the military there, among them myself and a number of other American, Canadian, and British National Socialists, guys from Arlington like Richard Biedermann and Jim Clendenin and Joe Bishop, ordinary Joes like Jeff Spencer and Eric Thompson and Alex Glatz, and Brits like Julian Thomas and some other guys I knew, John Ormo.
And then there was a guy named John Allen Cowie, an American, who was a combat medic with the Rhodesia Light Infantry, and who was killed in July of 1975 during a contact when he ran out from cover trying to reach two wounded men in his unit.
Now, I didn't know John that well myself, since he was stationed in Salisbury and I was in Bula Whale.
Eric knew him a lot better than me.
But although he was not a National Socialist himself, but a Fundamentalist Christian, he knew who we were, and we always got along.
When he was killed, our group placed funeral notice in the Bulawayo Chronicle, signed by his 88 friends.
John was buried in Kwekwe.
I wasn't able to make it because I was in the bush then, but some of our guys did.
A few weeks ago, I was wandering around the internet, and I found, to my amazement, that John Coey actually had a song written about him and his heroic death.
It really gives me a lift to see one of us actually getting recognition for a change.
This is the Rhodesian folk singer David Scobie.
And I noticed that this Rhodesian production seems to have the same problem that a lot of skinhead rock does, in that the instrumental is so loud you can barely hear the lyrics, but just like skinhead bands in some garage in Surbiton, in Rhodesia we didn't have all the fancy mixing gear and whatnot that the big studios have.
Anyway, this is called A Song for Johnny.
It's a memorial to Corporal John Allen Coey, a brave soldier, a good friend, and a hell of a man.
The sun was heavy on the ground.
A strange kind of smile As he said I'm not afraid In
June of 2010, North Idaho attorney Edgar J. Steele was arrested by the FBI on false charges of allegedly hiring a hitman to murder his wife and mother-in-law.
The alleged assassin was a man named Larry Fairfax, an FBI informer who was inserted into Steele's home posing as a handyman in order to spy on the Steele family, until he saw the opportunity to help the Bureau destroy an outspoken critic of the regime.
While he was working there, Fairfax proceeded to help himself to large stashes of silver coins and bullion that the Steels were keeping on their property in anticipation of a Federal Reserve currency crash brought on by Barack Obama's incompetence.
The final whereabouts of that silver seems to be something of a mystery.
Apparently, the FBI allowed Fairfax to keep at least some of it as a kind of bonus or reparations for the annoyance and inconvenience of having to spend 16 months in a minimum security prison in the service of the Bureau.
The basis of Edgar Steele's conviction were audio files fabricated by FBI technicians, supposedly discussions between himself and Fairfax about murder for hire.
These conversations appear even to a layman who first hears them, to sound strained, stilted, unnatural, and obviously doctored at the key points and phrases.
The Steele tapes were not only forgeries, apparently they weren't even very good ones.
At Steele's trial, two international audio engineering experts, who were prepared to state categorically for the record that the tapes were fraudulent, were barred from testifying by a corrupt judge.
The jury was never allowed to hear evidence which clearly proved Edgar Steele's innocence.
The situation wasn't helped by the fact that Steele's first attorney, a federal public defender, was a raging alcoholic who, at the time, was being sued by three members of his own legal staff for various acts of drunken misconduct.
Steele's second defense attorney, a man named Robert McAllister, on whom he and his wife Cindy expended most of their life savings, turned out to be facing disbarment for embezzling his client's money, and was, in fact, disbarred only weeks after Steele's conviction.
Many suspect that this second attorney may have struck a deal with the government to keep himself out of prison by deliberately taking a dive in the courtroom and bungling Steele's defense.
If so, it didn't work.
In September of 2012, the 62-year-old McAllister Interestingly enough, McAllister himself was a former United States attorney and prosecutor, which gives you some idea of the typical moral character of the people in the federal judiciary.
For whatever reason, McAllister's performance in the courtroom was lackluster, to say the least, and he refused to put his client on the witness stand, which always looks very bad to a jury.
Needless to say, the attorney's own perilous legal situation was never explained to either Ed or Cindy Steele while the trial was going on.
As icing on the cake, I've spoken to persons present in the courtroom during the trial who told me that Ed Steele quote-unquote looked like a zombie, confused and disoriented, and he seemed completely incoherent and disconnected from what was going on around him.
The consensus of opinion was that Steele was drugged on orders from someone in the federal government to make sure that he was incapable of assisting in his own defense or even understanding what was happening to him.
No one knows for sure why the federal government of the United States did this horrible thing to Edgar Steele.
He must have pissed off somebody really bad, although I don't see how.
Ed had withdrawn from the Idaho governor's race due to ill health.
I have this horrible suspicion that the whole ghastly business may simply have been some kind of grotesque experiment on the part of the FBI simply to see how far they could go and how much they could get away with in arresting and destroying critics of the regime.
Edgar Steele is being held in the Victorville facility, which is well known throughout the federal system as a kind of toilet where human beings are flushed away.
Among other things, the water supply in the prison is known to be contaminated with carcinogens and toxic waste.
Which facilitates the decline in health of those federal prisoners whom the government wishes to hear no more of.
Victorville is notorious as an end-of-the-line destination.
Once the gates clang shut there, no one leaves except in a body bag.
Edgar Steel has been sent there to die.
I'm now going to play for you part of a speech Edgar Steel gave to a conservative group in Georgia in August of 2002, over ten years ago.
This speech has been interpolated with recordings of threatening phone calls which Steele and his family received during the Aryan Nations trial.
Although Ed only briefly mentions this in his address, these calls were traced back to a so-called JDL in New York.
So, needless to say, that's where the FBI investigation stopped.
For those of you who aren't familiar with the latest goings-on in the Hebraic world, after Meyer Kahani's death, the JDL became kind of like the Klan in our movement.
There's about 50 little JDLs scattered in cities all across the country, each one, of course, claiming to be the legitimate JDL.
So, in essence, there is no actual Jewish Defense League anymore, just these little splinter groups.
But the fact is that the phone calls were traced back to Jews, and so the FBI simply dropped the investigation.
In this country, Jews pretty much have the right to disregard whatever laws they wish to disregard, unless it involves really huge amounts of stolen money to the point where it steps on the toes of other Jews, like the Wall Street swindlers Michael Millican and Ivan Busky and Bernie Madoff.
I also hear that the female caller is calling Edgar and his family kikes and so forth.
Disregard that.
As anyone who has ever had to deal with such calls can tell you, this is a standard Jewish tactic.
They call people and claim to be us all the time.
Also, in the spirit of true Covingtonian nitpicking, I should mention that the monarch who was overthrown by the French Revolution was Louis XVI, not Louis XIV.
Sam's going to talk to you about a fellow by the name of Mal Cherub.
In the French Revolution, he defended Louis XIV.
And apparently I'm getting some sort of recognition because of that, in honor of this fellow.
And at first I thought, well, geez, that doesn't seem appropriate.
There's got to be a lot more people that deserve something like that than I do.
After all, I'm still alive, for one thing.
Mal Cherub went to the guillotine, along with Louis XIV, you see, for having had the temerity to defend the king.
Well, the more I thought about it, I thought, well, maybe it is appropriate.
Every time I go to court now, you know I'm disadvantaged, because in the days leading up to the Aryan Nations trial, I have been receiving death threats regularly.
People that are spreading this venomous message of whites only in the United States, I think, need to be put out of business and no longer be able to cloak themselves in this First Amendment.
Please, Edgar, I don't know what to think.
I think basically you're full of shit.
Man, I can't believe it.
A person that owns a big ranch and everything, you think these people are going to protect you?
Hey, Edgar, think long and hard about your buddy Randy Weaver because you're an ex-fucking-type.
A nigger loves to fucking see you.
That's watching back at Nikki.
But I just didn't think much about it.
I figured it went with the territory.
Until I came home one afternoon with my wife.
And my little six-year-old daughter came running out, terrified.
And my eight-year-old son got a same phone call from the same woman.
Back in the year 2000, my family received a variety of death threats, individually delivered over our voicemail system.
I remember this day very clearly.
I just returned home from school on the bus with my little sister.
We walked inside the house, and I noticed the red light blinking on the phone and checked the messages.
There was a message that was left for me, so I checked that one first.
It was from a woman telling me that because of my family's decisions, because of my father's choices, that our entire family was going to die, that I was going to be killed, that if I dared step foot outside of my house...
That people that were watching were going to kill me.
I was very confused and not sure how to take this message.
And as I was hanging up the phone, my little sister comes running from her upstairs room where she had just listened to a similar message that had been left for her, bawling her eyes out, crying, extremely upset, and not understanding what was going on.
And my 16-year-old daughter got one.
And there was a message left on my wife's machine for her.
Hey, Cindy, if there's something more to happen to you or to Nikki or to Kelsey or to Rex, do you think it would be considered a hate crime?
Probably not.
Yes, me, I would love to see you dead.
So would everybody else?
Stupid kike.
Today at 2.06 p.m.
We didn't identify the woman, but I identified some of the other threats I got, and they were rendered by the JDL, the Jewish Defense League.
So it was ironic, and I sent them away for three weeks at that time to an undisclosed location for their safety.
You know, I take these cases we've been talking about, and there are other cases, too.
But I take them to make a statement.
I'm not going to change things.
I'm not going to change the laws.
I'm not going to have any effect on the establishment.
There's one reason I take these cases.
These cases reach the lemmings.
They reach the fence sitters.
These cases annoy everybody.
And with these cases, I'm able to speak to those outside the choir.
And that's why I'm taking them.
Along the way, I get tarred and feathered along with my clients.
Kind of like this Moussherb guy.
But this is something I can do.
This is something that I must do because of that.
Because I can do it.
And I will do it.
Until, as with Monsieur Moussherb, the system decides to dispense with me.
I can only take on just a small number of these cases that I mentioned.
I get emails and letters every day.
It just breaks my heart to read about the situations that people are in.
The tyranny that is occurring in America, in all places, at all levels of government, it's not just federal, it's not just state, it's local too, it's everywhere.
It's overwhelming.
Today it's the entitlement mentality of socialism, with the centralized control of everything and everybody.
Today it's the overriding control freak outlook that's the order of the day in America.
And it's getting worse.
Used to be we had rights.
Today we possess only privileges, and those dispensed at the pleasure of our centralized government.
A coup is taking place, ladies and gentlemen, and it's taking place under our very noses.
The Patriot Bill was passed without a single member of the legislature having read it.
In just the last couple of weeks, the Supreme Court has extended rulings which erode the due process completely out of sight, as if the Patriot Bill hadn't already done it.
Freedom of Information Act changes were announced by Bush last month as procedural directives, whereby most public documents are now put out of reach.
And very recent executive orders, just the last couple of weeks, put still more public data out of reach, marked as sensitive but unclassified.
Now, I once held a top-secret clearance, and there was no such classification then.
Even before 9-11, two months prior, House Resolution 2459 was proposed to create a cabinet-level Secretary of Peace and outlined the means whereby essentially the collapse of America's constitutional government could take place and be replaced by a militarized socialist government.
Well, geez, isn't that what's happening at this moment with the Department of Homeland Security?
Going to be elevated to a cabinet position pretty soon, I heard.
There are those who say that this has been accomplished today via the Department of Homeland Security.
I'm one of them.
Bush and Ashcroft have both declared their critics to be traitors.
You know that.
You heard that, didn't you?
And they warn the rest of us to watch what we say.
Now, I've said for a long time that the Bill of Rights have been trashed, and the only thing left is the First Amendment, but it's lying prone on the floor and breathing shallowly.
The media is totally under the control of the politically correct day.
Today, what I call the inner party, if you will.
Orwell's fantasy has become the media's reality today.
Whites are depicted as avaricious and stupid.
Blacks are noble and witty.
Homosexuality is a desirable lifestyle.
Christians are narrow-minded anachronisms.
Patriots are traitors.
The war to preserve our freedom requires that first, they cancel all of our liberties.
Tomorrow's police state has already been established.
You want to see it in full bloom?
Just go to the airport.
Tomorrow's Christians are already here.
They're supporting the chosen.
They're supporting what's going on today.
Religion must go, because by definition, religion is not subservient to the state.
The family must go to be substituted with the government as the new parent.
Individual rights.
The individual must go because we as individuals must be a part of groupthink.
There will be no entrepreneurship.
I'm not sure there is any more anyway.
It's just big business, Enron style.
There will be no private wealth.
There won't even be cash.
There will just be debits and credits and an electronic ledger someplace.
And we're moving towards that right now.
You know, we've always looked out for the UN and Russia and China and now the Arabs as the boogeyman.
But while we were making a sandwich during the commercial break, a coup took place.
Today we've got a dictatorship with only illusions of democracy, make no mistake.
There's not even the pretense of this being a republic anymore.
You know, the new world order is here already, in case you hadn't noticed.
It's America.
Let me say that again, because a lot of people don't want to recognize the fact.
The New World Order is here already.
It is America.
Now, all of these cases that I've mentioned have those things in common.
And let me tell you, the deck's stacked.
The state's dealing from the bottom, and it doesn't even need to because it's got aces up its sleeve.
I told you that we have something going on in this country worse than military tribunals.
Well, those two children custody cases I told you about, here's what happens in those cases.
And even lawyers don't believe this that haven't practiced in these courts.
These are closed hearings.
Secret hearings.
The record is sealed.
There is no jury.
You don't get to call witnesses.
You don't get to put on evidence.
You don't get to have the children spoken to.
You don't get to talk to them.
You don't get to have your doctor come in and talk about them.
You get to work only with the evidence that the state brings in.
And you are guilty until proven innocent.
And you have no way to prove yourself innocent.
And that's why...
Legions of children are being taken from the politically incorrect.
Every day now.
And we worry about military tribunals.
Tomorrow's legal system will be like today's child custody courts.
Tomorrow thought control will look like today's hate crime laws.
Where you go on trial for saying a word, like Lonnie Ray did, and you can be convicted for it, like Lonnie Ray was.
Dress it up how you want.
He wouldn't have been there but for that.
And he wouldn't be under a conviction right now but for that.
You know, I'd never lost a case until I got involved with these politically incorrect cases.
I'd loved a charmed life.
I really had.
I had literally never lost a case at trial.
Not one.
But I've been losing virtually every single one of these.
It's gotten so my definition of winning, like in the Christine case, is beating just certain of the charges, because I know they're going down for the rest of them.
Because when I get in front of a jury, or I get in front of a judge, there is no hope for the politically incorrect.
And this illustrates for you what happens in a courtroom these days, even with the jury, if you're politically incorrect.
And I've had more than one opportunity to be in a courtroom with a politically incorrect client.
And I've seen that dark horse ride through and seen the most astonishing result come back out of that jury room, running counter to anything I'd ever seen.
We've all heard of runaway juries.
The OJ jury is probably the most celebrated example in recent years.
Richard Butler, who I'm going to talk about a little bit in a moment, had a runaway jury.
They ran the other direction, though.
When you have celebrity in the courtroom, the rules are different.
If the jury really likes them, like they did OJ, they get to walk.
If the jury really dislikes them, you're in trouble.
And as bad as it might be, you'd be better off just with a judge.
But even that's pretty bad.
So the moral of this story, and of the stories I'm about to tell you, is that there is no justice for the politically incorrect in America today.
Those days are gone.
So far as anyone knows, all legal appeals of the Edgar Steele case have been rejected without comment.
No appeals court, including the Supreme Court, will even hear them.
Edgar Steele has been held virtually incommunicado now for almost a year.
He's been buried alive.
His mail is simply disappearing with no response.
When he was first admitted to Victorville, he was restricted to writing five letters per month, and he was given brief access to a prison email system called CarLinks, but he seems to have stopped sending emails.
So far as anyone is willing to admit, no one's heard from him since the early summer.
As of about an hour ago, I checked, and there have been no updates to the official blog or the Edgar Steele Facebook page since September 18th.
I have reason to believe that absolutely crushing pressure has been brought on Cindy Steele to be quiet.
But I won't comment further.
I am still trying to get someone close to the family who knows what's going on to talk to me.
But apparently they have been warned off public comment about the case and they've been warned off the Northwest Front in particular.
The federal government of the United States has now degenerated into flat-out threats against an elderly lady.
If anyone has heard from Edgar Steele since sometime in June, even if it was just to acknowledge a piece of mail, please contact me at nwnet at earthlink.net.
Needless to say, if someone does want to talk to me about this, I will hold all communications on this topic in complete confidentiality.
This is Mullen Diner from the Athol Pipe Band.
Thank you.
Comrades, tonight I'm going to read a passage from the Gulag Archipelago, The Interrogation.
So, what is the answer?
How can you stand your ground when you are weak and sensitive to pain, when people you love are still alive, when you are unprepared?
What do you need to make you stronger than the interrogator and the whole trap?
From the moment you go to prison, you must put your cozy past firmly behind you.
At the very threshold, you must say to yourself, My life is over, a little early to be sure, but there's nothing to be done about it.
I shall never return to freedom.
I am to die, now or a little later, but later on, in truth, it will be even harder, so the sooner the better.
I no longer have any property whatsoever.
For me, those I love have died, and for them I have died.
From today on, my body is useless and alien to me.
Only my spirit and my conscience remain precious and important to me.
Confronted by such a prisoner, the interrogation will tremble.
Only the man who has renounced everything can win that victory.
But how to turn one's body to stone?
Well, they managed to turn some individuals into puppets for a trial, but they didn't succeed with Bir Yadev.
They arrested him twice, and he was subjected to a knight's interrogation, but he did not humiliate himself.
He did not beg or plead.
He set forth firmly those religious and moral principles which had led him to refuse to accept the political authority established in Russia.
And not only did they come to the conclusion that he would be useless for trial, but they liberated him.
A human being has a point of view, and Stoltzreva recalls an old woman who was her neighbor on the Butchev banks in 1937.
They kept on interrogating her every night.
Two years earlier, a former Metropolitan of the Orthodox Church, who had escaped from exile, had spent a night at her home on his way through Moscow.
But he wasn't the former Metropolitan.
He was the Metropolitan.
Truly, I was worthy of receiving him.
All right, then.
To whom did he go when he left Moscow?
I know, but I won't tell you.
The Metropolitan had escaped to Finland via an underground railroad of believers.
At first, the interrogators took turns, and then they went after her in groups.
They shook their fist in the little old woman's face, and she replied, There is nothing you can do with me even if you cut me into pieces.
After all, you are afraid of your bosses, and they are afraid of each other, and you are even afraid of killing me.
They would lose contact with the Underground Railroad.
But I am not afraid of anything.
I would be glad to be judged by God at this minute.
There were such people in 1937, too, people who did not return to their cells for their bundles of belongings, who chose death and who signed nothing, denouncing anyone.
So, this book is about the Gulag from 1918 all the way up into the 50s and the various methods used by the organs of the state.
Now, Stalin was very smart in that he would make rather loose orders and he would let the organs of the state interpret those orders.
And so, therefore, he could not be directly accused of anything.
Now, it is very smart to be loose in that way.
If you believe stories of the Holocaust, one of the things that the Germans supposedly did to themselves according to some of the documentaries I've watched on television is that they wrote everything down.
And I suppose if one were going to do dastardly deeds, it's rather ridiculous to write them down.
So I think the Soviets were perhaps rather clever, or perhaps they made a virtue out of a necessity, a virtue out of a certain sloppiness, which may simply be a difference in character in Germans versus Slavs.
I mean, the Germans are very precise.
Sometimes being a bit loose and just going with the flow, sometimes that works better.
So this book is a considerable time commitment, three volumes.
Very grim, very long book.
You know, the Gulag was certainly of a longer duration than any German camps.
But if you talk to a young Marxist communist today, Very few of them.
In fact, I don't know of any.
Very few are plagued with guilt over the gulags.
If they speak of it at all, they'll just say, well, you can't make an omelet without breaking an egg.
So, very pragmatic viewpoint.
You can walk around a campus today with a Marxist t-shirt or communist type t-shirt and no one will interrogate you, no one will stop you.
It's very much alright to be an extreme leftist in academia.
So, very, very interesting.
That's sort of a double standard apparently.
So, I hope you enjoyed this week's installation and...
Hopefully I'll be back soon with some more ideas.
So thank you for listening.
Thank you.
I was going over the first part of this podcast, and I noticed that I referred to something called leaderless resistance, and it occurred to me that a lot of you folks listening probably don't know what that is, at least in the movement context, and so I guess I'd better give you a quick rundown.
In 1992, Lewis Beam published an article in an underground magazine called The Seditionist, entitled Leaderless Resistance.
I highly recommend that you track down a copy of this article on the internet somewhere and read it for yourself.
But to sum up as very briefly as I can, this article was a reaction to the complete and total failure of the white nationalist movement in this country to accomplish a damned thing since the end of the Second World War.
This was true in a large part because our leadership was such crap.
Beam's thesis can be summarized as follows.
Since white people seem to be incapable of organizing a piss-up in a brewery without all kinds of goo-boo gibberish setting in, we need to not even bother to try and organize ourselves, but rely on small cells, preferably one-man cells.
What two don't know, one can't betray.
Leaderless resistance was the theme of William L. Pierce's second novel, Hunter.
This is also sometimes confused with what's known as Lone Wolf, which isn't quite the same thing.
The white nationalist movement, such as it is, and there is less and less of it as time goes on, has been practicing leaderless resistance for years.
Not so much intentionally as it has been a case of making a virtue out of necessity.
We've been forced to embrace leaderless resistance if for no other reason than a near total lack of leaders.
Now, I'm not going to go off on one of my long rants and raves about that.
I can't very well jeer at the goat dancers and call them that 90s show, and then myself digress into a long tirade about what happened in the disgraceful 1990s.
It's not my purpose to mount a point-by-point refutation of Lewis Beam's article, because I agree with most of it, in theory.
The problem is that, as so often occurs in life, out here in the real world, theory has run headlong into reality, and come off the worst for the encounter.
The white nationalist movement has had no more success with leaderless resistance than anything else we've tried, because it's turned out to be all leaderless and no resistance.
Beam's game plan was actually pretty brilliant, but leaderless resistance founders on the rocks of the one issue more important than any other, the one issue which we as a community consistently and adamantly refuse to face, the issue of character.
We keep trying to drive a nail with a marshmallow and then wondering why we fail.
Lewis Beam's leaderless resistance article was predicated on the idea that the independent and organized cells or activity groups he envisioned would actually do something.
This hasn't happened.
Instead, we've gone downhill from 1992 when the article was published, to the point where there is now virtually no white movement of any kind left outside the Internet.
Indeed, the internet is largely responsible for this, since it allows white males to satisfy their multifarious psychological cravings in a risk-free, anonymous environment.
Most whites do not become involved with the movement in order to put something into it, but to get something out of it, and to get something out of it for free.
They want to play without pay.
They want the thrills and chills without the spills.
They want to roll the dice without putting anything on the table.
They want free entertainment.
The internet and leaderless resistance form the ideal combination with which to achieve all this.
The one provides the physical safety and anonymity with which today's neurotic white male can publicly wrestle with the demons in his head, and the other provides the moral rationale for irrationality, cowardice, and weakness.
The internet enables the white male to misbehave without consequences, and leaderless resistance allows him to do so without feeling bad about himself.
Leaderless resistance has been used by the overwhelming majority of white males who claim to practice it as an excuse to avoid anything remotely resembling personal risk, inconvenience, or effort.
Joining an organization, conforming to a set of rules and behavioral standards, working with other white people as a team, opening one's wallet and giving up precious beer and cigarette money.
Obeying orders and practicing self-discipline.
Anything, even remotely smacking of self-sacrifice.
The magical words, leaderless resistance, cancel all of these out.
We say we're practicing leaderless resistance, when all we're really doing is throwing a hissy fit.
It has been used as an excuse to avoid politics, the rough and tumble of genuine, face-to-face human interaction, not hiding behind a computer.
Where it is necessary to try and understand and respect the viewpoints of others and sacrifice one's own ego for the common good.
Screw you!
I'm practicing leaderless resistance.
I'm sure we can all think of individual examples in plenty.
If there is to be any hope at all for white racial survival, then we are going to have to become involved in politics, the real kind, which has little or nothing to do with elections or democracy.
In point of fact, democracy is antithetical to white racial survival.
The purpose of democracy is to prevent change.
The purpose of revolutionary politics is to bring it about.
Now, what is politics in the true sense?
It is the acquisition and exercise of state power.
The white nationalist movement is notable primarily for its total lack of any kind of power at all, for its helpless dependence in order even to exist on the goodwill or at least the indifference of the Zionist state.
Power?
We never even get near enough to the real stuff to get a whiff so we know what it smells like.
So, how does one acquire state power?
Since the electoral process has long been rendered completely corrupt and useless, you use one of two things, money or a gun, which pretty much leaves us where we are today.
We don't have the money to use for our politics at all, and we don't have the courage to use the guns we do have.
They remain firmly in our closets until we take them out on the weekend to play with them, like we play with our computers and televisions and boats and ATVs and barbecue grills and all our other toys.
Most of us have, of course, given up long ago.
I won't.
I can't make you change, but I can and will keep on screaming in your ear and making you feel bad about yourself for not doing what you know perfectly well you should be doing.
Now, there is in fact something that you can do that will change the whole equation.
A perfectly legal act.
One that the government cannot prevent you from doing.
An act which, in the long run, is in fact to your personal benefit.
It's hard, yes, but by no means impossible.
A lot of people have done it, including myself.
You can come here, to the homeland that destiny has appointed for our people.
To the land where history will decide if the white race shall live on or perish from the face of the earth.
That's the first step.
Do it.
Westward from the Davis Strait, 'twas there, 'twas said to lie.
The sea route to the Orient, for which so many died.
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weather, broken bones, and a long-forgotten, lonely can of stone.
Ah, for just one time I would take a Northwest Passage To find the hand of Franklin Reaching for the before sea Tracing one,
one line Through a land so wide and savage And make a Northwest Passage Three centuries thereafter, I take passage over land, in the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his sea of flowers began.
Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again.
This star I would take the Northwest Passage to find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea.
Tracing one of our mind through our lands of Iden's sun age, and make an on-west passage to the sea.
And through the night Behind the wheel The mileage clicking west I think upon Mackenzie David Thompson and the rest Who cracked the mountain ramparts And did show a path for me To race the roaring Fraser We're
a land so wide and savage, and make a northwest passage easy.
Amen.
How then am I so different from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life.
I threw it all away.
To seek a northwest passage at the call of many men.
To find there but the world back home again.
Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage To find the hand of Recklen reaching for the Gulf of the Sea Tracing the heart of the water of the night Through the land so wide and
savage And made a Northwest Passage through the sea.
Thank you.
This week, I got an email from a fan asking me what I was going to write next.
And I emailed him back and told him what I've already told you guys.
And that's that this really is it.
I'm all NVA'd out.
And at some point, we have to make the move from fiction to reality, so forth and so on.
I told him, if anything, I may do a few more Sir Thomas Clave medieval murder mysteries as a kind of hobby.
This comrade then asks me something I get asked fairly frequently.
Why don't I write my autobiography?
A tell-all memoir about my so-called adventurous life that will tell where all the movement's bodies are buried, in some cases literally.
I have occasionally kicked around that idea in my mind in the past, but I've decided against it for the following reasons, which I suppose I should put on record at intervals because I'm not kidding.
There does seem to be some interest in such a book.
The first reason I will not be writing any tell-all memoirs is that I could never do so completely or with complete honesty and candor.
There are several aspects to this.
If I were to spill my guts about everything I did and know with names and dates and places and gory details, especially regarding certain phases of my early life in the 70s and 80s when things were a bit more rambunctious than they are now, There are still some people alive, mostly in North Carolina, who could be very conceivably hurt, and in some cases hurt bad.
I'm talking about people who helped me and the old party, who kept us going and sometimes saved us from very bad problems, and who in at least two cases saved my life by giving me information I wasn't supposed to have.
Now, as recently as the mid-1990s, I know there were some of our friends in the silk suits trying to find one guy.
He took me off to a situation that could have turned out very badly, and someone in his position shouldn't have been talking to someone like me in my position, and they, so far as I know, are still hunting this guy.
Now, I don't repay people who have helped me and helped the 14 words by blathering their names into public print because I feel like reminiscing.
Also, there are certain things that I did and participated in back in the day which I myself am in no way ashamed of, but which would open up cans of worms that don't need to be opened even at this late date.
My personal and family history would definitely make interesting reading, including my paternal ancestors' congenital habit of making off with their wives in various ways.
But who cares?
Yes, I could fill a whole book with horror stories about my childhood.
But number one, it would give all kinds of fuel to goat dancers and Jew psychiatrists and various enemies of the race and the cause.
And number two, so can most American white boys.
And number three, these things are none of anybody's damn business.
Now, I could fill another book with fascinating tales about my relationships with women, but I'm one of these 19th century dinosaurs who follow the old code wherein a gentleman doesn't discuss such matters.
My second marriage alone would take up about five chapters, but my children are still around and on the net.
If they ever want to know what happened, they know where to find me.
If not, it's nobody else's concern but theirs.
I'm not going to be so sleazy as to talk about their mother in public, even if every word is true.
As to all the juicy gooboo movement gossip, which is why most people would read such an autobiography, it's not juicy.
It's sickening and moronic and tragic and probably the reason why we're going to perish from the face of the earth.
And neither these episodes nor the people who perpetrated them need to be remembered or immortalized.
Most of these people and what they did need to be forgotten, consigned to oblivion.
If the race survives and the Republic comes into being, then I want our narrative to reflect the courage and heroism and idealism and sacrifice that accomplished that.
Not nonsense like Willie's stupid lawsuit or Sean McGuire and the Cheetos or Frank Spizak running around shooting nigger cab drivers in drag.
If the race perishes, then let all of this crap perish with us.
So, some of you out there who break into a cold sweat at the thought of Harold's magic keyboard fingers tapping out all he knows, you can relax.
Not happening.
If I'm still around when the Republic comes into being, and if I have the ability to do so, yeah, there's a few of you I'll want to have a quiet word of prayer with, but that's not something you need to worry about now, unless you're allergic to pigs.
Or worse yet, the pigs are allergic to you.
Well, our time is up, and so that's it for this week's edition of Radio Free Northwest.
This program is brought to you by the Northwest Front, Post Office Box 4856, Seattle, Washington, 98104, or you can go to the party's website at www.northwestfront.org.
This is Harold Covington, and I'll see you next week.
Until then, Sasha Underban.
Freedom.
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