John Kennedy delivering his State of the Union address, 1963, fasces displayed behind him.

by Kevin Alfred Strom

IF YOU WATCH FOX NEWS or read political blogs you probably have a headache from all the accusations of “fascism” bouncing back and forth from left to right and back again. “Obama’s a fascist!” “Rush is a fascist!” “Bush is a fascist!” “The Zionists are fascists!” “Your grandmother’s a fascist!” “Kevin Strom is a fascist!” And then we have that ridiculous neologism “Islamofascism.”

Modern Republicans and Democrats both misuse the term “fascist” — and to such a degree that the misuse has started to be enshrined in dictionaries.

In the broad sense, the term (from the Latin for “bundle”) just refers to the strength of a united people — as in the ancient Roman story in which a father asks his sons to gather sticks from the forest and bring them to him. Taking the wooden rods one at a time, he easily breaks each of them in two. But when the very same rods are bound together — symbolizing a united family or people — they are unbreakable.

The symbol of the French republic.

The fascist symbol, or fasces, usually with the rods bound around an axe to signify authority, thus became the symbol of the Roman Republic and its ideals. It was also used by the French republic, was adopted by Mussolini’s 20th century Fascist movement, and was also used by the United States during the same era — among many others.

The U.S. dime displayed the fasces on its reverse from 1916-1945; and it is displayed prominently to this day in the main chamber of the U.S. Congress.

It’s also a prominent element of Daniel Chester French’s highly idealized sculpture in the Lincoln Memorial.

In the narrow sense, fascism means specifically the socio-political movement popularized by Benito Mussolini and to some degree carried on into more recent times by the Movimento Sociale Italiano.

Reverse of the U.S. ten-cent piece, 1916-1945.

It was characterized by the ideal of the state as expressing the will of the people, with the people being an organic, natural entity, not divided into classes with differing economic interests but instead with each sector of society (such as farmers, laborers, administrators, merchants, et cetera) able to elect its own legislative representatives. In practice, many compromises were made with allies and with the old order of things.

The central government and ruling party had a lot of authority under Italian Fascism, and that is really the only similarity real fascism shares with the pop-definition of the word. But other central governments and parties past and present had similar or greater degrees of authority — such in fact being the norm for almost all human societies throughout history.

Abraham Lincoln by Daniel Chester French: Lincoln's hands rest on two large fasces.

The pop-definition of “fascist” is roughly “big, bad, scary, and mean authoritarianism.”

“Fascist” is used by the Democrat gang to refer to the Republicans and their often authoritarian views on (among other things) war, drugs, and sexuality — and by the Republican gang to refer to the Democrats and their often authoritarian views on (among other things) freedom of association, financial privacy, and taxation.

It’s misused that way because both sides think they can make brownie points by scaring voters with the spectre of authoritarianism from the rival gang.

Here’s the truth: both modern Republicans and modern Democrats score pretty high on the authoritarianism scale — somewhat higher, I’d say, than the Movimento Sociale Italiano.

LIBERALS AREN’T THE ENEMY: Too many Euro-folk have a habit of describing those who oppose our survival as “liberals.” But some of the most ferocious opponents of our self-determination today call themselves “conservatives” or “fundamentalists.” And it’s a bad idea to alienate those who self-describe as liberals. Many of them are intelligent, highly-evolved White people, with a strong streak of altruism (even if it is misdirected at times). Many of them understand how Zionism has hijacked the U.S. government. They most often believe in the validity of the scientific method and the reality of biological evolution — both of them absolutely crucial concepts for anyone who wants to understand our people’s plight and possible great destiny.

Kevin Strom, 1956

by Kevin Alfred Strom (American Dissident Voices program of June 19, 1993)

I’M RECORDING this show on the week just before Father’s Day, and this year I’m a father for the first time. Looking at my baby boy and helping my wife care for him have made me think quite a bit about my own life, the world I grew up in, the lessons I learned, and the world my son is going to inherit. I’m going to tell you a little about myself, and how I came to the conclusions and the world-view that I express to you every week on this radio station.

I was born on a Summer morning in 1956, in Anchorage, Territory of Alaska. My parents had moved to Alaska some five years earlier, shortly after they were married, since that was where my father, an Air Force Master Sergeant, was assigned. I was my parent’s first child.

Both my father and mother were of Norwegian descent, hard-working farm kids from Minnesota born during the Depression. They were just three generations removed from their immigrant ancestors. My father’s father, Alfred Strom, in the early part of this century, had cleared his homestead of several hundred acres himself, and built a very substantial two-story house, large barn, and numerous outbuildings with his own two hands. They still stand are in still in use by the family today.

In my mother’s family, Norwegian was the only language spoken in the home for many years. My mother only began to speak English when she started attending school at the age of six.

Growing up in Alaska, I came to love its wild beauty, its endless twilights, and its titanic scale. I developed an appreciation for wild animals which expresses itself today in my abhorrence for any mistreatment or unnecessary killing of my fellow Earth creatures.

My family maintained close ties with their kin in northern Minnesota. Some of my happiest memories were of our months-long visits to my grandparent’s farm, where the 1880s farm house stood in a commanding position on one of the few hills in that flat land of big skies. It was also a great adventure to travel by car from Alaska to Minnesota in those days, across the Yukon and western Canada on thousands of miles of curving gravel roads, including the Alcan Highway.

My father eventually left the Air Force and took a position with the United States Department of the Interior. After several years, he was promoted to a job in Washington, D.C. We moved to Alexandria, Virginia, a suburb of D.C.

I became interested in electronics at an early age, spurred by an exposure to shortwave radio at the age of 11. I became an amateur radio operator at the age of 16. This interest eventually led to a career as a broadcast engineer, which I still pursue in addition to my patriotic work.

Patriotic Feelings

Even as a very young child, I can remember having strong positive feelings about America — both the grand and majestic land itself, and its optimistic, intelligent, deeply feeling, creative, and truly beautiful people. I might not have known how to put it into words at the time, but I loved my country and I loved my race. I was a born patriot.

The America I grew up in was the Old America, White America. Prior to the mid-1960s, when the social and racial and cultural fabric of America began to unravel, America was a very different place than it is today. With a few exceptions, the men were strong, sturdy, honorable and able. The women were feminine, nurturing, and beautiful. Everyone seemed to know who they were and where they were going. Identity crises were almost unknown. Everyone seemed to share decent values. There was a beautiful sense of optimism and almost innocence in the air. People trusted each other. They left their doors unlocked. They helped each other. There was a real sense of community.

I loved the Old America. I loved its art and its architecture. I loved its celebrations and its piety. I loved its civilized codes of dress and conduct. Even today, in the closing years of the twentieth century, you can still get a feeling of what the Old America was like in some small towns where the old buildings still stand, where the streets are still kept clean by the increasingly elderly White inhabitants, where the minority invasion has not yet made its presence known. Imperfect the Old America may have been, but it was, comparitively speaking, a wonderful place to grow up. I truly felt it to be my country, a place where I belonged.

Looking back on the 1950s and early 60s now, I can see that the people of that time were too carefree and innocent. They were foolish. They let the Old America slip out of their hands. They allowed alien mind-molders and subversives to take it away from them. They didn’t listen when patriots tried to warn them of the conspiracy against their freedom and their very race itself. They failed to understand that “Eternal vigilance is the price of Liberty.” But that’s getting ahead of my story.

Washington and Social Turmoil

It was with eager anticipation and high hopes that I arrived in Washington, D.C. in November 1963. At first I loved the city. Crossing the Potomac River, I was filled with feelings of awe, wonder, and reverence as I looked upon the great gilt statues of Winged Victory, the great Classical-style monuments to Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln, and the majestic Capitol and Supreme Court buildings, among many others. Here, I thought, are fitting monuments to America, the country I love! Here, I thought, is graven in stone the greatness and the unchangeable principles of my beloved nation! Here, surely, must work the great men, the leaders who will apply those principles and ensure that our nation, our people, and our freedom shall never perish from the Earth!

I was to be greatly disappointed.

By the late 1960s, America was being literally ripped apart by two interrelated battles: the so-called “civil rights” revolution and the Vietnam War.

I well remember the marches, the assassinations, and the riots. I particularly remember the so-called “Moratorium” marches on Washington, which the largely Jewish New Left leaders had organized around 1969 to 1970. I didn’t attend them, though many of my schoolmates did. Many of those who didn’t attend wore black armbands to school to show their solidarity with the marchers. At the time, like many American patriots, I believed that the war in Vietnam was a righteous war against Communism. I made my own red, white, and blue armband to wear to school to show my defiance to the New Leftists and the others who were, in my view, pro-Communist and anti-American. What really disgusted me was the fact that so many of my fellow students supported the New Left and wore the black armbands not because of any reasoned opposition to the war or political ideas, but merely because it was the fashionable, “in” thing to do.

Like millions of Americans, I watched these so-called “anti-war” marches on television. I was revolted by the spectacle of half-naked young people of my generation carrying Communist flags and publicly using drugs, declaring that the country that gave them birth was evil. If their opposition to the war had been based on the fact that it was a waste of young American’s lives (which I now realize it was) or on the fact that it was a sham which wasted our country’s resources and demoralized us while a corrupt, criminal, and pro-Communist establishment made a pretense of “fighting Communism” (which I now realize it was), then perhaps I would have listened with interest to the protesters. But these protesters, who flouted all standards of civilization and patriotism, were openly declaring that their opposition to the war was based on the fact that a few darling Asiatic Communists were being killed. They were carrying the red flags of Communism in the streets of our nation’s capital. They were chanting “Ho – Ho – Ho – Chi – Minh, Ho Chi Minh is going to win!” — along with various obscenities.

And I noticed, with growing amazement, that the major newspapers and television commentators, whom I, along with most other Americans, had regarded with respect as icons of the American establishment, were siding with the Communist swine who had openly declared their hatred for — and intention to destroy — America. It was at this point that I first began to sense that something was profoundly wrong with this country. I began to see that the problem was far deeper than just a few obvious Communist revolutionaries in the street. I began to understand that the Establishment itself, the institutions of money and power in America, were themselves aligned with the subversive forces that were destroying us.

I began to see that decent Americans were being squeezed from both above and below; from below came the Black and Communist rioters in the street and on the campus — and from above came the news media, mainline churches, Liberal think-tanks, foundations, and other powerful institutions promoting a “social change” agenda. From both above and below came the push to change America from an outpost of European civilization and the traditional values that that implies, to a multiracial province of a one-world “utopia” ruled by all-wise and all-powerful “social planners.”

My awakening was reinforced when, not much later, our heretofore rather conservative Lutheran church began praising the virtues of Black Communist “freedom fighters” in Rhodesia, singing “We Shall Overcome” after Sunday School in solidarity with “Martin Luther” King’s “civil rights” movement, and condemning those terrible right-wing extremists who dared to criticize King, Communists, or the United Nations. When the parents weren’t around, the assistant pastor even told the high-school Sunday school class that “If Jesus came back to Earth today, he would be called a Communist.”

I knew something was wrong. I began to look for answers.

A Very Special Teacher

I must give credit for part of my awakening to a courageous and patriotic history teacher at my junior high school. He encouraged his students to look beyond the clichés and the headlines for the real forces at work behind the scenes. Though he never preached in class, he did present patriotic pro-American ideas as one point of view to be considered in the ongoing political and social revolution that was taking place. I inwardly resonated with and gravitated toward those ideas. As an antidote to the leftist bias of most of the other teachers, my history teacher brought into his classroom a number of books, newspapers and magazines with a pro-American, Rightist, or pro-White point of view, for his students to read after they had completed their assignments or to borrow and read at their leisure. How many other 12- and 13-year-olds were reading The American Mercury, American Opinion, Western Destiny, Richard Cotten’s Conservative Viewpoint, or H. L. Hunt’s Lifeline? My history classes were a welcome island of intellectual freedom and patriotism and sanity; a refuge from the anti-White, anti-Western, and anti-American influences that were almost everywhere else at the school.

Inspired by my courageous teacher, I began to seek out the truth on my own.

The Birch Business

Eventually this quest for truth led me to a group known as the John Birch Society. The Society was attractive to me for many reasons. It was forthrightly and unashamedly pro-American and anti-Communist. It claimed leadership in the field of patriotic endeavor, with some justification. It had a long and, I thought, honorable history of exposing and fighting internal subversion, which, in America, has always been a much greater threat than external conquest. It was not saddled with a lot of irrelevant religious baggage, as were far too many patriotic groups. It exposed those high on the ladder of the American establishment who were working to destroy this country, whom the Society called “insiders.”

Though the Society had the grandest of intentions, and though it did do a limited amount of education and awakening of the public, it really didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I later discovered that this was because members of the group were forbidden to discuss a certain topic, a topic that is crucial for a full understanding of our nation’s dilemma. This topic was race. Ultimately, I came to realize that the Society was a dead end, a cul-de-sac where patriots expended their precious time, money, and energy going in circles while America’s real enemies smiled from a distance, secure in their safety because of the Society’s self-imposed censorship.

While a member of the John Birch Society, I continued to maintain friendly contact with patriots in other groups. One day in 1981, while I was visiting with a lady who led a weekly patriotic forum in Arlington, Virginia, I noticed a newspaper on her coffee table with the provocative headline “Equality – Man’s Most Dangerous Myth.” The newspaper was edited by Dr. William Pierce, a man I was to meet and with whom I began working just a few months later.

Racial Awakening

Kevin Strom and son, 1993

Though I had long felt that the “civil rights” agitation was destructive and served the purposes of America’s enemies; and though I had instinctively chosen to associate mainly with members of my own race; and though the art, architecture, and music which I loved were all the creation of White Western Civilization; and though I had sympathized with White Rhodesians and South Africans as they tried to protect their world from a Marxist-led savage onslaught; the truth is that before 1981 I had never thought really seriously about race. If you had come up to me with the idea of the primacy of race in all things I would have dismissed it. I, like so many right-wingers today, was enamored of the theory that gives primacy to ideas, to what a person or a society believes. What patriots were fighting for, I thought, were the ideas of freedom and liberty and order that undergirded America and the Western world. Although in a limited sense I was right, what Dr. Pierce forced me to see was that what a person or group believes is not nearly so important as what they actually are. For what one believes is mutable, and often changes throughout one’s lifetime. But what a person actually is, all of his potential for knowledge or ignorance, understanding or obtuseness, kindness or cruelty, altruism or selfishness, achievement or failure — all of these things are graven into his body and soul by the immutable and unchangeable patterns of his genetic inheritance.

Dr. Pierce expanded the horizons of my understanding from a narrow political-ideological point of view to an all-encompassing biological view of the world and all life in the world.

I learned that America, and indeed Western civilization itself in all its aspects, was a result of the genetic inheritance of its creators, the European race. So also was Oriental civilization the product of the tendencies and potentials inherent in the Asian race, and so on. This was not a doctrine of “hate,” as its detractors had painted it. It was a doctrine of respect for Life and Nature’s laws. I felt as though a cloudy film had been peeled from my eyes and I could for the first time see my surroundings with crystal clarity. The racial world-view puts patriotism in its proper place in the natural order of things. I saw that patriotism is not a mysterious concept to either be accepted without question or jeered at by sophisticates who see its lack of logical foundation — patriotism is simply loyalty to one’s kind, one’s tribe, one’s race. And those who created Communism and who are, under a thousand guises, subverting America, were exposed for the vicious parasites they always were, whose loyalties have never been with America or with the West — and never can be, because of what they are.

The biological world-view of Dr. Pierce expanded my horizons in other ways as well. I now thought not just in terms of years or decades, or just in terms of solving temporary political or social problems, but instead in terms of millennia, and in terms of the gradual development of my people from their earliest origins to their ultimate destiny.

This is the way in which Americans must begin to think if they are to remain a viable nation, if they are to have descendants who will be Americans in anything else but name. If we are to survive, we must not only have a burning desire that our descendants will carry on in the land our ancestors conquered and built; but we must also have an unshakable conviction of who we are. This is the contribution that the racial point of view makes to the patriotic struggle. Without a sure sense of our own identity, all else is for naught. If the enemies of America and the West manage to destroy all of our cities — if they raze them to the ground and with them destroy all our libraries, all the knowledge that prior generations of our race accumulated over thousands of years; if they destroy every work of art and science that has ever been created — it could all be built again, even greater than before. There could be another Athens, another Parthenon. There could be another Caesar, another Shakespeare, another Poe, another Darwin, another Edison, another Shockley. Our entire civilization could be built again from scratch, and our outreached hands could still grasp the stars, as long as the germ of our civilization — the gene pool of our race — remains intact. But if the evil or the thoughtlessness of a single generation corrupts that gene pool through racial mixing, or attenuates it through childlessness, what is lost can never be regained. If such evils persist much longer than a generation, the race will cease to be what it once was, and we and our kind will no longer walk the face of this planet. These are the truths that William Pierce and my other mentors taught me. They are hard truths. Perhaps I was, in some sense, already prepared for them. I hope that I am preparing the way for a generation who will carry the Truth, and our uniquely beautiful and noble race, to victory.

WHAT WOULD YOU SAY if a Liberal “social scientist” told you to jump into a pool filled with five hundred ravenous piranhas?

If you valued your life, you’d certainly refuse the invitation.

But what if the Liberal “social scientist” tried to convince you to go ahead and jump in, with the argument that “not all of the piranhas are aggressive. Some of them probably just want to make friends with you, and really aren’t hungry either. To say that a piranha is going to attack you, just because he’s a piranha, is a wicked stereotype, and probably contributes to the piranhas’ negative feelings about you.”

If that argument was made to you, would you then jump into the pool filled with piranhas? I don’t think so. You’d probably reason, quite logically, that even if there were one or two or even a dozen piranhas that by chance or due to a recent meal decided not to attack you, that certainly wouldn’t change the bloodthirsty behavior of the other 488.

And it certainly wouldn’t change the outcome of any foolish foray into the pool.

But let’s say you were foolish enough to listen to the Liberal “social scientist,” and you did jump into the pool filled with piranhas. You somehow managed to survive. You made it to the other side of the pool, where you jumped out, but you were seriously injured in the process. After you got out of the hospital, where your wounds were stitched up and your lost blood was replaced, you were paid a visit by your old “friend,” the Liberal “social scientist.”

Needless to say, you weren’t too happy to see him, but before you could say a word, he started talking.

“I’m awfully sorry to see how you’ve been hurt,” he said, “but it isn’t my fault at all, you see.”

You replied, “You mean, oh great and wise social scientist, that you can finally see that those piranhas are vicious and I don’t belong in the pool with them?”

“No, I don’t mean that at all,” answered the Liberal “social scientist,” “It’s not the piranhas’ fault that you almost got eaten alive. It’s not the poor piranhas’ fault at all! It’s your fault!”

“My fault!” you exclaimed, “How the Hell could it be my fault?”

“Ah, how little you bourgeois middle Americans understand,” sighed our Liberal genius, “Don’t you see that what happened to you only happened because those poor piranhas were underprivileged and hungry? If you’d given them enough food and a decent chance at life, then they wouldn’t have attacked you like they did. When was the last time you helped a piranha? They’ve been struggling for centuries while your kind lived in luxury. Don’t you think it’s time the tables were turned? And not only that, but you ordinary Americans have caused the poor innocent piranhas to feel left out in your society. Naturally they harbor negative feelings about you, when you never want to have anything to do with them. You should understand that we all hate what we don’t know. We must integrate piranhas into our society, keep them in our swimming pools and bathtubs and introduce them into all our rivers, mountain streams, and lakes. By associating with piranhas every day, and by feeding them as much as they want to eat, eventually a spirit of brotherhood will emerge and we and the piranhas will live together in peace, harmony, and joyous diversity evermore.

“But you, Mr. Ordinary American” — and here the Liberal “social scientist” thrust his flabby little finger into your face — “you are going to have to change your evil ways before we can have that happy world!”

“You’re out of your mind!” you replied. “Piranhas may be fine in the Amazon jungle, but you’re crazy if you think we can live and associate with them every day. We and they just don’t belong together — and if you’re so in love with piranhas, why don’t you go on a little swim with them? And if you think I’m going to waste my money and time feeding them and helping them multiply just so they can eat me and my family alive at some time in the future, Mr. Genius social scientist, then you’ve got another think coming!” With that you kicked his delicate carcass downstairs.

Still smarting from his fall, and rapidly retreating backwards, the Liberal “social scientist” shook his spindly fist and called back to you, “Your generation is hopeless. You’ll never understand the need to integrate with and support piranhas. But your children will. Our ‘brotherhood’ program at the elementary school will teach them that it’s their duty to live with and help the poor piranhas. They’ll be swimming with them every day at the school’s pool. And that’s just the first step! There’s nothing you can do about it!”

Gradually the voice of your former friend the Liberal faded away, but he certainly gave you something to think about, didn’t he?

The ‘Liberal Social Scientist’ Returns

Now it seems Mr. Social Scientist has become a bird lover. He’s still smarting from the last time you kicked him downstairs, but just to show you that there are no hard feelings, he has decided to invite you to a meeting of an organization he’s working with called the “Bird Benevolent Society.” Since you’ve always been a bird watcher and animal lover, and since you foolishly believe that the Liberal Social Scientist has learned a lesson, you agree that you’ll go.

On the appointed day you show up at the meeting hall, and find several hundred other people, some obviously drawn from the dregs of society by their appearance, but also mixed with a strong contingent of the empty-headed wealthy, whom you’ve seen at various charitable and “world-improving” functions in town. There’s the usual collection of “homeless advocates,” pervert agitators, “Feed the Africans” charity types, and a motley collection of minority activists and “Rainbow Coalition” idiots.

All the conversations in the room stop when our learned humanitarian friend, the Liberal Social Scientist, strides past his international banker and tax-exempt foundation friends up to the podium to address the group.

He clears his throat and begins speaking:

“Welcome dear friends and friends of progress,” he says, “to this meeting of the Bird Benevolent Society. I know that we are all united in our love for our feathered friends, the birds, and I know that we all yearn to bring them into the coming new millennium of progress and unity and global cooperation and peace. But the birds of this world are being held back by evil ideas and outmoded traditions that border on fascism. It will be the mission of the Bird Benevolent Society to enlighten the birds and help them to change their ways, assisted by you people of goodwill, and of course by government grants of taxpayer money and the behind-the-scenes help of my banker and foundation friends here beside me on the dais.

“We look at the world of the birds with dismay and sadness. Everywhere we find disunity, strife, misunderstanding, and conflict. We see the sparrows off in one corner among themselves, eating seeds and singing their songs; while off in another far corner are the eagles, fishing in the sea and singing an altogether different song. Every species and variety of bird seems to have its own place, its own territory, and this leads to conflict among birds. Every species of bird has its own habits and behavior and language and this leads to misunderstanding among our feathered friends. It leads to further and further separation and isolation among the different types of birds and we all must of course agree that this simply won’t do in this modern age of global unity, peace, and understanding. I call all this separation and misunderstanding ‘bird racism.’

“We must conquer these problems. What we will do is this: We will gather all the birds of the world together, and teach them a new way of living, all for their own good, of course. The eagle will nest with the sparrow, the chicken with the crows, and the cardinal with the chickadee. By close association, they will eventually come to love each other, aided by our extensive program of re-education which will replace the old bird-racist ways taught to the young birds by their parents. After a few generations of enforced togetherness, the birds will forget their evil old ways and will never know that they were separate species once upon a time. We will call this bird-paradise the ‘United Birds.’

“And then, my friends,” and here our Liberal Social Scientist’s eyes begin to gleam, “we will begin the final phase of our plan, which is really the ultimate solution to all the problems of the birds. We will teach the birds that it is virtuous and desirable for them to choose mates who are not of their own species. Black birds will mate with white birds, and red with yellow, and so forth. Our educational programs will teach them that it is the worst kind of wickedness and evil to oppose this. Of course, we know that this goes against the instincts of the birds, and so we might have some trouble with it. But within the structure of the United Birds, we will have complete control over all education and information received by the birds. Even their recreational activities will be under our guidance. So we are confident that, in time, our efforts to encourage cross-species mating will be successful, and there will be a new kind of bird in the world — one kind of bird — a one-world bird — a true citizen of the United Birds, with its mind and behavior molded by our scientific guidance, totally free of the old ways of separation and conflict.”

A huge wave of applause fills the meeting hall, and the wealthy members of the audience begin to pull out their checkbooks to make donations to the Bird Benevolent Society. But you’ve sat there politely listening to this nonsense long enough. You leap up onto the dais, grab the microphone, and begin speaking:

“You people are crazy to give money to this outfit! Bird Benevolent Society, indeed! This organization must be run by people who hate birds, not love them! Different species’ different habits and ways are the result of thousands and thousands of years of natural selection. Each is particularly suited to its environment, both in its physical appearance and in its mental makeup and behavior. That’s what makes a blue jay not only look different from a cardinal, but act different, too. The difference in external appearance is just a sign of the inner difference in genetic makeup, which determines how they act, what they eat, how they choose a mate and build a nest, raise their young and every other thing they do. If you force them to live together and to give up their different modes of living, you’ll just end up causing conflict, violence, confusion and misery for them instead of the paradise you’re promising! Their natural, inborn differences are what make our feathered friends what they are! Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that you’ll be destroying all that by making them all mix together, that you’ll literally be killing them? How dare you try to tear down all that Nature has taken millennia to build up! How dare you claim you are doing this for the ‘good’ of the birds! How dare you call yourselves bird lovers! And let me ask you this question, what the Hell good does it do for you to set up this United Birds nonsense? Why can’t you just leave the birds alone to live as they always have, just as Nature intended?”

At this point, your old friend the Liberal Social Scientist motions to a couple of burly men in dark uniforms, who proceed to remove you from the stage and into a back room, where you are roughed up enough to keep you quiet for a while. Then the Liberal Social Scientist enters the room and gives you a little lecture:

“My friend, my friend, you have so much to learn — and to unlearn — here in the New World Order. I can’t have you doing foolish things and wrecking our well-laid plans. But you have drive and energy that we may be able to use someday, once you learn the rules. So I will be happy to explain what we are doing in, ah, a bit more detail. Have you caught your breath enough to ask me some questions?

“Ah, well, I see you’re in no condition to speak at the moment. Here’s my handkerchief, wipe that horrid blood away. I hope you’ve learned your lesson and your place. I think I can anticipate your questions anyway.

“Look out that window on your left, and you’ll see our construction crews putting the finishing touches on our latest building project. You see they’re not working in wood or brick. Because they’re not building a headquarters for the Bird Benevolent Society. No indeed, they’re working in wire mesh, building a great dome, just one of many great wire mesh domes we are building, within which will be the United Birds itself. We’ve found that the poor birds don’t know what’s good for them, and are constantly trying to find a way to fly away from us, so we’re building these new homes for them, where our great social experiment can take place. Oh, it’s true, some have called them cages, but we prefer to call them planned housing projects. And of course, there are many birds outside the domes still living in the old ways, but soon we will have enough of the United Birds in our peace-keeping forces trained to attack their fellows who refuse to submit to our beneficent rule, and I can confidently predict that within a few years the United Birds will encompass all birds and there will simply be no place to fly to that isn’t already under our central administration. Then we can go on to the final stage of our glorious plan.

“Oh, and I almost forgot your final impertinent question. You wanted to know what we got out of it, what our personal motivation was for this plan for social change among the birds. I seem to recall you even questioned our right to call ourselves ‘bird lovers.’ Well we are bird lovers — of a kind. We want a world of peaceful birds, just as we said. Peaceful and docile. We want a world of well-educated birds, just as we promise. Educated — by us — to do what we want them to do. We want a world of birds which has forgotten their own separate and traditional ways, since those old ways might get in the way of our plans and might form the basis of loyalty and cohesion among some birds. We don’t want that. We want their loyalty to be only to us, only to the United Birds.”

And at this point he turns to face you directly, with his hooked nose only an inch in front of yours, and he concludes his little lecture:

“Then it will be much easier for us to practice our love of birds. We did it all for the love of birds!”

And as he leers menacingly into your face you can detect the smell of raw flesh upon his breath, and you can see on his throbbing lower lip a thick drop of blood in which is suspended a tiny white feather.

*    *    *

These “Bird Lovers” Say They Love You, Too

I have little to add to this fable of the Liberal Social Scientist and the Bird Benevolent Society, except to say that the same kind of people who claim here to be bird lovers also say they’re just overflowing with love for you, too.

And if you can’t see through their nonsense about “world government” and “world law” and “peace-keeping forces” and “racial diversity” and the “democratic community of nations” and all the rest of it, then you and your family are nothing but food on the tables of your rulers, and you will deserve exactly what you get.

*    *    *

The illustrations used here were created by the Swedish Folktribunen.