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The EU’s megalomaniac expansionists should have heeded Kipling’s prophecy that “never the twain shall meet”.

Their rush to admit Eastern European countries brings the Trojan Horse to mind, and we all know what happened to Troy. Then again, like all wicked contrivances the EU has a knack for digging holes for itself.

The depth of this particular hole has just been emphasised by Bulgaria’s presidential election, won by Putin’s stooge Gen. Rumen Radev. As a result, Boyko Borisov’s government has resigned, leaving the field open for other Russian puppets.

Gen. Radev’s election is a fruit fallen off the tree of the Russians’ systematic campaign to undermine the West, whose part they mistakenly think the EU is. It isn’t.

The EU is an ideological construct and, as such, it transcends geography, along with every other academic discipline: history, economics (and its mathematics), political science. What the Eurocrats don’t realise is that its ideology is self-refuting.

Admitting Eastern European countries means admitting their high officials into the inner sanctum where key decisions are made. But these countries were corrupted by two generations of Soviet rule, while most of their leaders – especially those from a security or army background – are either run by Moscow or are at least receptive to its friendly suggestions.

Gen. Radev’s first post-election pronouncements made no secret of where his heart is. “I will closely work with the government and EU colleagues to achieve the lifting of the sanctions [against Russia],” he announced. He also praised President-elect Trump for “seeking more dialogue with Russia”.

Perhaps I’m unfair to the EU. Its chieftains are driven not only by ideology but also by their ignorance of some basic facts of life.

FACT 1. Communism corrupts. Everyone knows that communists kill millions. Fewer people realise that they also kill civilisations by severing their moral, religious and social roots.

FACT 2. Once the roots are severed, the civilisation dies. It can be replanted and may in due course regrow to its past luxuriance. But that takes time.

Conservatively speaking, I’d estimate that period to be at least the length of the communist rule – longer in places where the civilisation wasn’t particularly strong to begin with, or where regeneration efforts are bogus. Hence I’m more optimistic about, say, Hungary than about Bulgaria or indeed Russia itself.

FACT 3. Russia hasn’t been a communist country for the last 34 years, in the sense of being run by the communist party. That stopped not in 1991, as is commonly believed, but in 1982. KGB head Yuri Andropov became dictator in that year, setting Russia on the way to becoming a KGB fiefdom.

FACT 4. Gorbachev’s glasnost in 1989 and Yeltsyn’s perestroika in 1991 completed that process de facto, while Col. Putin’s 2000 ascent did so de jure.

FACT 5. Other than suppression at home, the KGB’s principal job has always been and still is to destabilise the West, whose desiderata the KGB correctly sees as being incompatible with its own.

FACT 6. Until 1991 de jure, and ever since de facto, much of the Eastern European elite has been made up of Russian agents or at least sympathisers receptive to KGB cajoling.

FACT 7. Therefore admitting these elites into the command structures of organisations like the EU and NATO is tantamount to injecting a patient with cancerous cells.

FACT 8. Neither the EU nor especially NATO can afford to have poisonous discord at a time when the KGB/FSB-run Russia represents what the Americans call a clear and present danger to the West.

Perhaps ignorance of these facts plays even a greater role than ideological proclivities. NATO, for example, is a non-ideological defence alliance, but it too is capable of shooting itself up with KGB poison.

For example, in 2008 the Hungarian Sandor Laborc was appointed head of the NATO Committee for Security and Intelligence, whose function is to coordinate the intelligence efforts of 28 countries.

Now Gen. Laborc is an 1989 honours graduate of the KGB Dzierjinsky Academy in Moscow. In order to study there, the aspirant had to demonstrate not only the requisite ability but also the kind of loyalty to the KGB cause that couldn’t have been faked.

Hence Gen. Laborc sold his soul to the devil, and this kind of transaction can never be reversed. Such was the man who acquired unrestricted access to NATO secrets, and he wasn’t the only one.

Now Bulgaria – a member of both NATO and the EU – has re-entered the KGB orbit. In the old days, it wasn’t so much a satellite of the Soviet Union as practically its member. In fact, Russians used to quip that “a chicken isn’t a bird, Bulgaria isn’t abroad” (a paraphrase of the old saying “a chicken isn’t a bird, a wench isn’t a person”, a misogynist sentiment I, as a lifelong champion of equality, disavow unreservedly).

If Bulgaria again starts to revolve in that orbit, and especially if it’s joined by other former Soviet satellites, it won’t be just sanctions that’ll bite the dust, but the consensus to resist KGB aggression against its former slaves. A catastrophe beckons.

Ideally the West should introduce a quarantine period before admitting Eastern Europeans into the fold, until they can be pronounced free of infection. But we all know that ideals aren’t achievable in this world.

Score one for Col. Putin, who outranks Gen. Radev.

One has to admit that Donald isn’t everybody’s idea of a pious Presbyterian. Though he still maintains some loose connection with his parents’ confession, his behaviour is, how shall I put it, more Playboy than Presbyterian.

And yet he won over Christians by a wide margin: 52 per cent of all Catholics, 58 per cent of all Protestants and 82 per cent of all evangelicals voted for him.

The Catholic vote is particularly notable. After all, some 40 per cent of US Catholics are Hispanics, and, putting it mildly, Trump didn’t go out of his way to endear himself to that group.

Why did Trump win the Christian vote? Here I recall a conversation I once had with a friend, a good Catholic and a good man, even though his politics are somewhat to the left of mine.

The conversation veered towards Franco, whom I described as a saviour of Spain. The man had no wings, but the choice Spain faced wasn’t one between Franco and an angel. It was between Franco and Stalin, and, had Franco lost, Spain today would closely resemble Romania.

My friend didn’t exactly share my enthusiasm for the Caudillo. But, he admitted, had he lived at the time, he would have supported Franco, begrudgingly. Because, he explained, “the other side was killing Catholics”.

But what about a place where no priests are being murdered? Should faith in Christ still skew a person’s political convictions and, if yes, how?

The question is valid, for the dual nature of Christ demands a synthesis of the physical and metaphysical. This is the cornerstone of Christianity, and it’s no accident that the deadliest heresies in history preached the evil of the physical world.

Yet, when Christ said that his kingdom wasn’t of this world, he meant that his kingdom was higher than this world. He thus established the primacy of the metaphysical ideal, which ought to determine how the physical life is lived.

Hence one’s faith should at least influence one’s politics. Otherwise the metaphysical thesis and the physical antithesis won’t meet at the counterpoint of synthesis, thereby flouting the dialectical essence of Christ.

Now skipping some intermediate logical steps, I’m convinced that it’s a Christian’s moral duty to vote for the most conservative (or the least socialist) candidate on offer.

For Christian Socialism (predominantly Protestant) is an oxymoron, as is its Catholic doppelgänger Democratic Socialism. Socialism can no more be Christian than it can be democratic.

Socialism, in its multiple variants, is the most toxic offshoot of that etymological cognate of Lucifer, the Enlightenment. Its animus was rebellion against Christendom, starting with its founding religion. That was the original revolt of the masses, to use Ortega y Gasset’s term.

When it erupted in a violent 1789 outburst, hundreds of thousands of Christians were killed. But the damage went even further than that: the Enlightenment also killed Christianity as the dominant social, cultural and political force.

Everything about post-Enlightenment modernity is an active denial of everything about Christianity: modernity’s statism, materialism, mendacious premises – and its natural political expression in socialism.

The essence (as opposed to verbiage) of socialism is deifying the omnipotent central state, transferring most political and economic power from the individual to a bureaucratic elite ruling in the people’s name. This is the exact opposite of Christian subsidiarity, devolving power to the lowest sensible level.

Financing the giant provider state through extortionate taxation is also the opposite of Christian charity: a man giving his money to a beggar acts in the Christian spirit; one giving his money to a mugger doesn’t.

Ascribing an undue significance to the process by which the ruling elite is formed bespeaks the characteristic modern obsession with formalism. Having failed to replace the Christian content of our civilisation with anything of remotely similar value, the modern lot are obsessed with forms rather than essences.

Hence their fixation on method of government, masking the fundamental kinship of all modern governments, whatever they call themselves. Equally hostile to the traditional organic state, they’re all different parts of the same juggernaut rolling over the last vestiges of Christendom (I make this argument at length in my book How the West Was Lost).

A Christian must feel the inner need to slow down this juggernaut as best he can, even if it can’t be stopped. Hence he’s duty-bound to support the most conservative candidate, in the only valid meaning of conservatism. Only thus can he preserve his intellectual integrity.

Many Christians must perceive this viscerally, even if they haven’t thought it through philosophically. Hence their support for Trump – no matter how thoroughly most of them must be appalled by his vacuity and vulgarity.

I don’t see Trump as a fellow conservative. Had he stood against a George Canning or at a pinch a Ronald Reagan, no right-minded person would vote for him. But, even as the alternative to Franco was Stalin, not an angel, the alternative to Trump was Hillary, not a George Canning or at a pinch a Ronald Reagan.

It’s a damning comment on our time that believers in absolute truth have to become political relativists, choosing not the greater good but the lesser evil. Trump, they decided, was just that – and, God help us all, they were right.

Jean-Claude Juncker (Junk to his friends) must have his brain addled by Glenfarclas whisky, which he’s rumoured to consume in toxic amounts.

Since president-elect Trump doesn’t have much time for supranational setups, his ascent casts a dark cloud over Junk’s vocation, which is making all power in Europe concentrated in the hands of an unaccountable Brussels elite.

So much more desperate Junk is to look for a silver lining. Now he thinks he has found it in the fact that Trump’s distaste for supranational setups seems to extend to NATO.

Of course, Donald’s experience has taught him to see life primarily in terms of dollars and cents. Preferable as this outlook is to one based on ideology, it’s inadequate when applied to geopolitics.

But be that as it may, Trump’s objection to NATO springs largely from the inequitably large contribution America makes to its budget. I see his point: the US pays 70 per cent of NATO’s budget though the other 27 members have a greater combined GDP.

Moreover, only five of them comply with the NATO guideline of spending at least two per cent of GDP on defence – which number doesn’t include Germany, France, Italy and Spain. Britain qualifies, but only by including MI6 in the defence rubric. And Latvia and Lithuania, who have more than most to fear from Russia, spend hardly anything on defence at all.

All this is outrageous. But it takes an awful lot of Glenfarclas to deduce that therefore the EU needs its own army acting, in Junk’s words, as “the principal global security provider”. He must have been in his buckets, not just cups.

Leaving the logistics of this aspiration to military professionals, even a rank amateur equipped with a pocket calculator will know that, to begin to realise this aspiration, Europe will have to double its defence spending – at least.

Junk and his jolly friends surely must understand this. Implicitly, therefore, they are ready to invest in rebuilding Europe’s defences – hoping that the Russians don’t attack during the years such a massive programme would take.

But if the EU is prepared to boost its defence spending to such an extent, Trump’s major objection to NATO vanishes. Following it out of the window is the need for an EU army, presumably led by Junk as generalissimo and Tusk as the vanguard commander.

An EU army wouldn’t just compete with NATO – it would destroy it. That would surely put an end to any US presence on the continent, leaving the EU to its own devices. One can see Col. Putin’s eyes light up even as we speak.

For Russia would have Europe badly outgunned even in the unlikely scenario of Europe doubling its defence spending. At the moment, the two European nuclear powers, Britain and France, have 515 nuclear warheads between them. Russia has 7,300.

Also, Russia has 15,398 tanks, including the new generation that has revolutionised tank design. Britain, Germany and France together have about 1,300 tanks, many of which are just armoured self-propelled guns. Even doubling that number would leave Europe in dire straits.

The same picture pertains in every weapon category. The upshot of it is that Europe can’t defend itself against Russia without America’s help.

But forget armaments. The most vital weapon in any country’s arsenal is its wisdom to perceive danger and its will to defend against it. Alas, one observes a deficit in those areas on the part of both the EU and the US.

Junk’s musings have nothing to do with defence. They represent nothing but an attempt to increase the EU’s power by drawing more resources under its umbrella. Indirectly, there’s also a hope that Britain will reverse Brexit, having found herself in a military vacuum between the US and the EU.

Should push come to shove, the EU would effectively surrender faster than you can say ‘Munich’. This wouldn’t represent an intolerable change of status for Western European leaders: they’d simply become satraps to Moscow rather than Brussels.

There’s no logic to Junk’s hare-brained ideas at all, other than federalist self-aggrandisement. However, there’s no logic to Trump’s distaste for NATO either.

Europe needs America, but then America needs Europe too. To put this into mercantile terms so dear to Trump’s heart, for Europe to act as a profitable trade partner it has to be prosperous, which it wouldn’t be under Russian domination.

For historical evidence, look at the economies created before 1990 by the same Germans in the west of the country and in the east. When it comes to economies, Russia has a Midas touch in reverse, even if she doesn’t occupy the space physically.

However, the most powerful arguments for collective security lie outside Trump’s comfort zone. Americans have had an innate belief in their historical mission ever since 1630, when their leader, the Puritan lawyer John Winthrop, delivered an oration in which he alluded to Matthew 5:14 by describing the new community as a “city upon a hill”.

People – including many Americans – who see America as merely a business concern with uncertain cultural antecedents are making a bad mistake. They ignore the messianic metaphysical premise that’s as important to Americans as their vaunted pursuit of happiness.

A country can change its economy, military alliances and even laws. One thing it can’t change is its metaphysical premise, provided it’s deeply enough ingrained. Thus America has to pursue a global role to remain America. The sooner Trump realises this, the better it will be for his own country.

NATO is a proven instrument of America realising such ambitions – whatever we, or Junk, may think about them. Casting Europe adrift is simply not an option for either party.

Hence, while Junk’s idea of a Yank-free defence is downright crazy, Trump’s isolationist noises are ill-considered too. He must think again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Candidates in general and Trump in particular say an awful lot, and a lot of it is awful. But Trump has also hinted at some excellent policies.

Of course, once elected, no candidate can do all he says. Some such failures will come from his having made promises he had no intention of keeping. Others may be caused by constitutional curbs on executive power.

But every president will put into effect some of his proposed policies. While it’s too early to tell which ones Trump will realise, it’s still possible to assess those he has mentioned.

Such assessment should be dispassionate and rational. Otherwise one risks sounding as ignorant as Max Hastings did in his anti-Trump rant: “America’s Founding Fathers would be appalled by the hijacking of the democratic system they crafted so carefully”.

But the Founders didn’t ‘craft’ a democracy. They created a republic, and it’s unfortunate that people who pontificate on politics don’t know the difference.

The Founders themselves did. In 1806 John Adams wrote in disgust: “I once thought our Constitution was a quasi or mixed government, but they had made it… a democracy.”

And Thomas Jefferson added that “A democracy is nothing more than mob rule, where fifty-one per cent of the people may take away the rights of the other forty-nine.”

But back to Trump now. How would we mark his proposed policies if he were a pupil?

Protectionism. Trump wants high tariffs on trade with Mexico and China. He thinks that’ll save American jobs – but it won’t. Such measures will protect underperforming industries and punish successful ones (along with consumers): E

Trade. In the same vein, Trump wants to repeal some trade treaties, such as NAFTA and the Trans-Pacific Partnership. Bad idea: F

Corporate taxes and red tape. “70 per cent of regulations can go,” says Trump, and he also proposes more than halving company taxes. These are proven measures to energise the economy: A

Terrorism. Trump wants to “bomb the hell out of ISIS”, “put more boots on the ground” and “bring back a hell of a lot worse than waterboarding”. Right spirit, but one detects little subtlety in Trump’s thinking on such subjects: B-

Personal taxes. Trumps is in favour of vast simplification and overall reduction. Brilliant: A+

Rebuilding infrastructure. A good idea in itself, but Trump wants to solve unemployment thereby. That sounds like FDR’s New Deal, with its TVA and other megalomaniac socialist projects. Rotten idea: E-

Energy and climate. Trump wants to increase the production of hydrocarbons and put an end to all those New Age ideas. He also refers to global warming as “a hoax” and “weather”. Right on all counts: A

Gun laws. Gun ownership “should be legal in all 50 states,” says Trump, who sees no connection between murder rate and availability of firearms. All good: A+

Islam. Trump pledges to impose “a total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States”. He’d “strongly consider” closing the more radical mosques. Good luck to him, but the idea is solid: A

Immigration. Trump favours kicking out 11 million illegal immigrants and building a wall all along the Mexican border. The first is good in principle but hard to carry out. The second is silly, and I hope he didn’t mean it: C

Cleaning up Washington. Five-year ban on ex-officials becoming lobbyists, reducing the size of the state and “the corrupting influence of special interests”, a hiring freeze on government jobs. Excellent: A+

Collective security. The combined GDP of other NATO members is greater than America’s, and yet their total defence budgets are less than half of America’s. Trump is right to demand a drastic change.

But this technicality can be sorted out once the underlying principles are agreed upon. Chief among these is that Western countries should present a solid defensive bloc wherein an attack on one is an attack on all. Trump makes little effort to conceal his contempt for this principle and has made nasty-sounding isolationist noises.

He seems to think that collective security undermines American national interests, but he’s wrong. Practically from the day she was born, America has been pursuing an ever-accelerating imperial policy driven by messianic self-perception. Abandoning the policy would mean abandoning the self-perception, which might be advisable in theory but would be catastrophic in practice.

Isolationism, while always mooted, has never made serious headway in the US and never will. Nor, the national psyche apart, is it in the country’s geopolitical and economic interests: F-

Russia. I wrote about this yesterday, but repetition is the mother of all learning, as they used to say (repetitio mater studiorum est).

This is potentially the most disastrous misconception Trump has. He favours peace with Putin, which is good, provided it means neither surrender nor betrayal of all America’s allies nor a cynical ploy to divide the world into inviolable spheres of influence.

I’m afraid Trump’s views fail to satisfy those provisions. In part that’s attributable to his business background, and here I disagree with those who believe that running a company prepares a man for running a country.

Business is immeasurably simpler than politics. Nowadays it’s also amoral: a modern businessman, especially a wheeler-dealer like Trump, will do anything for a profit, as long as it isn’t illegal – or even then, if he can get away with it.

However, though a statesman can’t always act on his principles, he must have them – and they must be correct. Trump clearly doesn’t understand the evil nature of Putin’s Russia, nor sees it as an imminent danger to world peace.

If history teaches anything at all, it’s that appeasing an evil regime means emboldening it (Munich). And even an agreement on spheres of influence can only be short-lived (Nazi-Soviet Pact). America and NATO must close ranks and present a strong, united front to the KGB junta striving to destroy the West as a moral and political entity.

Trump doesn’t seem to realise any of this, and one can only hope that his advisors will talk sense into him before a calamity occurs: F-

Britain. Trump seems to see Britain as a more promising European outpost than the EU. There are also rumours that he’s considering Nigel Farage for a ministerial post. I’m not sure a non-citizen can serve in that capacity, but it’s the thought that counts. The best for the last: A+

A mixed bag, really, and I’ll leave my American friends to calculate the GPA. Donny is clearly a promising pupil, but there are some worrying, and potentially catastrophic, lacunae in his education.

A reader once asked me how I’d vote on 8 November if I could, to which I replied: “Trump, weeping all the way to the booth.”

Having followed US elections for almost half a century, I can safely say that I’ve never seen a contest featuring two such awful candidates. Both of them are corrupt in every possible way, of which fiscal corruption is the least important.

I distinguish between peripheral and fundamental corruption. The former is a politician using his position to help himself to a bung or a bang; the latter, a politician corrupting the very principles of government.

For example, Edmund Burke’s finances probably wouldn’t stand up to today’s exacting standards. And yet this great political thinker courageously battled in Parliament against every threat to the realm. His fundamental integrity was beyond doubt, and that’s what really matters in a statesman.

This is more than one can say for Trump, who won by using the whole repertoire of vulgar populism. His business experience has taught him how to trick rich people into giving him money. Now Trump has used similar techniques to trick poor people into giving him votes.

To that end he has done an about-face on 17 major issues, which doesn’t bode well for the next four years. His elasticity on every serious matter of intellect and morality makes it impossible to predict what he’ll do as president.

Conservative noises feature prominently in Trump’s brand of populism. Indeed, it’s hard to find fault with most of his pledges on domestic policy: cutting taxes, reducing social spending, undoing Obamacare, tightening immigration controls.

Some of his ideas on foreign policy aren’t bad either, such as repudiating Obama’s nuclear treaty with Iran. His motivation for it, however, is open to doubt.

Reintroducing sanctions on Iran would reduce the supply of oil and therefore increase its price. This would benefit every oil producer, but most of all Putin’s Russia, bringing us to potentially the most dangerous aspect of Trump’s presidency: his apparently reciprocated affection for the Russian dictator.

This may not be entirely disinterested. Trump’s son Don once admitted that, “Russians make up a pretty disproportionate cross-section of a lot of our assets… We see a lot of money pouring in from Russia.”

I’m not convinced that Trump is capable of looking beyond his business interests, or of considering foreign policy in any other than mercantile terms. Hence, for example, his manifest contempt for collective security underpinned by NATO: America’s partners, he believes, aren’t pulling their budgetary weight.

That’s true, but if Trump regards this as sufficient reason for America not to come to the aid of a NATO member attacked by Putin’s Russia, we’re in for a rough ride. Any sensible president would reconfirm America’s commitment to the NATO Charter first, and only then put pressure on other members to contribute their fair share.

I don’t know whether or not Trump’s presidency will benefit Putin. It is, however, certain that Putin thinks so.

His mouthpieces, both on TV and in the Duma, were screaming for weeks that the choice between Trump and Clinton was one between peace and nuclear war. Putin’s Goebbels Dmitri Kisiliov has reissued in this context his favourite threat to turn America into radioactive dust, which was reiterated even more stridently by the leader of Russian Lib/Dems Vladimir Zhirinovsky.

Another mouthpiece, Sergei Sudakov, predicts that Trump will see his principal task in restoring trust between America and Russia. Therefore “he’ll move away step by step from the politics of globalism and American hegemonism.”

Dmitri Mikheyev of the Hudson Institute confirms my suspicion that the Russians are banking on Trump’s predominantly mercantile worldview. America, he writes, “can’t fight wars against all and all over the world… That’s expensive, so Trump will strike a deal with Russia – that’s cheaper.”

Dr Deliagin, of the Institute for Globalisation Problems, is ecstatic: “Trump’s victory is one of reason, hard work and dignity over corporate madness and a real danger of a world war. America has decided to go to work rather than destroy mankind…” which contextually was Hillary’s goal.

Everything points at Putin’s preference for Trump, and Vlad clearly did all he could to help his friend Donald: having Assange drip-feed compromising revelations of Hilary’s numerous misdeeds, using the bombing campaign in Syria to punctuate Trump’s messages at critical points in the campaign, computer hacking.

In fact, Michael McFaul, Hillary’s man and former US ambassador to Russia, tweeted a sardonic sour-grapes message to that effect: “Putin intervened in our elections and succeeded. Molodets [Well done].”

Interesting times lie ahead. It’s conceivable that, by appealing to Trump’s business sense, the Russians will try to talk him into striking a global version of the Nazi-Soviet Pact, dividing the world into mutually respected spheres of influence.

If that’s the case, the outcome of such a ‘deal’ (a word understandably over-represented in Trump’s vocabulary) may well be the same as that of the original pact – with even more cataclysmic consequences.

All we can do at the moment is pray, rejoice in Hillary’s demise – and take solace in the amount of spittle sputtered by the neocons at the very mention of Trump’s name. Their enemy has a decent shot at becoming my friend, but Trump has a long way to go.

Nuremberg saw the halcyon days of Nazism so expertly filmed by Leni Riefenstahl. To keep things in balance, 13 years later it also saw 10 corpses hanging off the gallows.

Yet now Nuremberg rallies are back. The pomp and circumstance aren’t quite the same as in the good old days, but the animating spirit has survived intact.

The current pageant is staged by a far-Left mob demonstrating against the City Council that banned a malignantly anti-Semitic display at the Nuremberg Left (!) Literature Fair.

The display in question is a travelling exhibit of racial hatred, an interactive photographic installation on which passers-by write what they think about Jews in general and Israel in particular.

Passers-by readily comply, producing exactly the sort of stuff for which Julius Streicher danced the Nuremberg jig. Here are a few choice bits:

Jews, writes one concerned citizen, are “an elite of criminals, the New-World-Order-Mafia, enslaves the rest of the world and controls politics, media and corporations.”

Another chap draws historical parallels: “Hitler is the past, but Israel is the present.”

Yet another expresses himself pictorially, by producing a Der Stürmer-style cartoon that shows a Jew, draped in an American flag and a Star of David, scoffing a child off the end of a fork. A glass of blood next to his plate completes the picture.

The installation has a distinct sense of déjà vu, which lessens its novelty appeal. More interesting is the hysterical anti-ban campaign, featuring fisticuffs and clashes with police.

What’s especially symbolic about this brouhaha isn’t just its place but also its timing. For tomorrow and the day after mark the anniversary of Kristallnacht, when similar sentiments found such a shattering expression.

Also fetching is the protesters’ appeal to freedom of speech, a liberty to which the Left has only a rather selective commitment.

For example, the show organisers represent Arbeiterfotografie, a group that regards Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as “one of the greatest statesmen in the world”. Yet if he deserves this accolade, it’s definitely not on the strength of Iran’s dedication to free speech.

Now these chaps are accusing the Nuremberg Council of censorship, which is prohibited under the German Constitution. I haven’t got its text handy, but, if that venerable document countenances unqualified verbal licence, it’s seriously flawed.

For, contrary to the liberal cliché, freedom of speech can’t possibly be absolute. It has to be a matter of consensus, which by definition makes it relative. Every society is justified in censoring speech it finds dangerous to its survival. Every society has done so – including today’s Germany.

For example, the country criminalises Holocaust denial and bans Hitler’s masterpiece Mein Kampf . Without passing judgement on such measures, one can’t deny the existence of precedents.

The earliest precedent can be found at the birth of our civilisation, midwifed as it was by Christianity. Even though free will and the resulting freedom of the spirit are cornerstones of Christianity, Jesus made it clear that some speech is acceptable and some is not:

“And whosoever speaketh a word against the Son of man, it shall be forgiven him: but whosoever speaketh against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this world, neither in the world to come.”

Hence an offensive word may confine the utterer to eternal hell, a considerably harsher injunction than a ban on Nazi propaganda masquerading as art.

My earlier statement about the Left’s understated commitment to any free speech that doesn’t comply with the Left’s diktats opens up another interesting area of discussion.

A persuasive argument could be made that no constitution should protect those who seek to destroy it. The Left, especially its extreme wing exemplified by the snappily named Arbeiterfotografie, has no more moral right to demand freedom of speech than Julius Streicher would have to insist on the impartiality of the press.

The law of self-preservation hasn’t so far been repealed, and every society has a right to defend itself against those who do it physical or moral harm. Freedom of speech isn’t always good, nor is some censorship always bad.

In art specifically (and such installations don’t qualify as such even when they don’t carry cannibalistic messages) there are two types of censorship: proscriptive and prescriptive. The former tells artists what they can’t do; the latter tells them what they must do.

While the latter kills art stone dead, there’s no evidence that the former unduly inhibits self-expression. In fact, one could argue that the greatest masterpieces of art and literature were created in the conditions of some censorship, while its absence seems to have a stifling effect.

Free speech can’t be allowed to act as a weapon in the hands of those who wish to destroy free speech. A group – predictably Left-wing, just like its Nazi progenitors – that promotes both jihadist or anti-Semitic propaganda thereby relinquishes its right either to defend free speech or to claim its protection.

It’s civilised people who should do so, and they must be careful not to overstep the line beyond which justifiable social self-defence ends and tyranny begins. Yet they’re unlikely to confuse the two – for otherwise they wouldn’t be civilised.

Champions of this wicked contrivance like to trace its origin back to the Holy Roman Empire or, further back, imperial Rome. Such retrospective claims don’t hold up to scrutiny.

It’s counterproductive to look for any ancient precursors to today’s political Leviathans. American democracy shares nothing but the name with the Athenian kind. The French Republic doesn’t even remotely resemble the Roman one. And the adhesive of Charlemagne’s empire was Christianity, which in the EU is at best marginalised.

EU antecedents are much more recent than that. Here are a few quotations, and if I told you they came from Juncker, Delors or Barroso, you’d probably believe me.

“It is only on the basis of a republican federation of the leading countries that Europe will be able to fulfil itself completely… The economy will be organised in the broad arena of a European United States as the core of a worldwide organisation. The political form can only be a republican federation…”

Therefore, “recognition of every nation’s right to self-determination must be supplemented by the slogan of a democratic federation of all the leading nations, by the slogan of a United States of Europe.”

And “The peoples of Europe must regard Europe as a field for a unified and increasingly planned economic life…Without this supplementary slogan the fundamental problems of Europe must remain suspended in mid-air.”

Neither Juncker nor Delors nor Barroso said that but, if one of them was your guess, you were warm. For this lucid exegesis of European federalism came from their fellow socialist, Leon Trotsky.

You know, the chap who argued that his socialist colleague Joseph Stalin was too soft, an argument that Uncle Joe refuted with an ice axe. Unlike Stalin, who preferred deed to word, Trotsky had the gift of the gab and put it to good use on many subjects, including European federalism.

But he can’t claim all the credit for his deep grasp of the idea. For his socialist precursors Giuseppe Mazzini and Karl Kautsky (“… universal trade policy, a federal Parliament, a federal Government and a federal army – … the United States of Europe would possess… overwhelming power”) said all the same things long before Trotsky, and his socialist contemporary Adolf Hitler said similar things too.

Yet even they can’t claim to be pioneers. “I owe everything to Marx,” Hitler once said, and the notion of a single European state was one of the things he owed.

Both Marx and Engels detested a Europe of sovereign states. On the contrary, they saw a United States of Europe as a shining ideal for which to strive.

In the 1848 Communist Manifesto, they anticipated that “in place of the old local and national seclusion and self-sufficiency,” capitalism would lead to “intercourse in every direction, universal interdependence of nations.”

When in 1893 Engels was asked whether he envisaged a United States of Europe, he replied: “Certainly. Everything is moving in that direction. Our ideas are spreading in every European country.” He was half a century before his time, but the prescience is undeniable.

Why did the original socialists, along with their internationalist, nationalist and ‘democratic’ followers, favour a single European state? That question can be asked only by someone who finds it hard to strip socialism of its carefully cultivated virtual image.

Socialists like to portray their creed as a secular answer to Christianity, whereas in fact it’s its ghastly caricature. Those who insist on drawing parallels between Christianity and socialism always hate the former and love the latter.

Socialism’s kingdom begins and ends in this world. Politically, divested of its meaningless waffle about sharing and caring, socialism is all about transferring power from the periphery to the centre, from the individual to the omnipotent central state.

This is the diametrical opposite of the Catholic concept of subsidiarity, devolving power to the lowest sensible level. Socialism’s raison d’être is to concentrate all power at the highest possible level, the central state.

Whether it was called national, international or democratic, this is the only aim any kind of socialism has ever achieved everywhere it was tried in earnest. This is the only aim it has ever really wanted to achieve.

It stands to reason that socialists would loathe any traditional nation state, whatever method of government it uses. Whether it’s a republic like France, a republican federation like Switzerland or a constitutional monarchy like Britain, a nation state would have excreted and wrapped itself in an elaborate cocoon of custom, legality, culture, political ethos and whatnot.

Since in the West these derive from Christian antecedents, they are fundamentally at odds with socialism, which can only triumph by riding roughshod over such irritating obstacles. Hence its inherent urge to expand has to make it overstep national borders sooner or later.

The EU has much more in common with, say, Nazi Germany or Soviet Russia than with any organic Western nation state. The ineluctable logic of supranational universalism is coded into socialism’s DNA, and it’s those genes that gave birth to the EU monster.

“Workers,” wrote Marx and Engels in their Manifesto, “have no motherland”. One could replace ‘workers’ with ‘socialists’ or ‘Eurocrats’ with no detriment to the meaning.

Cardinal Nichols, head of the Catholic Church in Britain, is unhappy with us.

Rather than learning “from the vibrancy of the Muslim faith that comes here”, we seem to be apprehensive about the influx of crowds who set us such a good example of piety.

“It does nobody any good,” continued my former co-author (we both contributed essays to the book The Nation That Forgot God), “this somewhat self-indulgent way in which people have begun to express themselves and their distaste and their hatred of people who they see as different. And that is creating a culture of fear among people who have been welcomed here.”

The boot seems to be on the wrong foot, and it doesn’t fit. A culture of fear is being created precisely by those who bring their vibrancy here. Their vibrant faith brainwashes its exponents to fly airliners into tall buildings, blow up buses or indiscriminately spray crowds with bullets.

Such suicidal abandon is prescribed by their scriptural sources, which don’t leave Muslims much free choice. Those whose faith isn’t sufficiently vibrant may be beheaded, stoned to death or, if they manage to escape, hunted down. Fatwa Knows Best is the longest-running Muslim series.

As someone who arrived at these shores late in life, I can testify that the British have none of that “distaste and hatred of people who they see as different”. On the contrary, I was struck by the hospitality with which I was welcomed here.

I was readily accepted not just as a guest to this country, but as someone who belongs here – as British as they come, so to speak.

So I was. I spoke and wrote native-quality English, knew English history, constitution and literature, was up on the folklore (including the part that only appears in unabridged dictionaries), didn’t mind warm beer and drank Scotch as my first preference.

I was still different, but people either didn’t realise that or forgot it after the first few minutes of conversation. I fit in – because I wanted to.

The same can by no means be said about most Muslim arrivals, even those who aren’t professional jihadists infiltrated into this country. They don’t fit in – because they don’t want to.

Considering this, I’d say that the British are displaying remarkable, some will say suicidal, tolerance. Incidents of racial or religious violence are practically nonexistent, unless of course the odd cross word and an askance glance are regarded as such, which nowadays is often the case.

Sometimes one wishes the British weren’t so docile. Consecutive governments, committed to squeezing the square peg of Britishness into the round hole of EU federalism, have deliberately set out to dilute the indigenous ethos with alien admixtures.

Some, such as Blair’s lot, admit this openly. The Tories don’t, but their actions shout off the rooftops. The two top positions in the present government are occupied by politicians who campaigned for keeping our borders open to all and sundry – including millions of those who are doctrinally obligated to hate us.

I suspect that they, along with our judiciary (independent from HMG but not from its EU sympathies), media and much of the ruling elite have decided to defeat (or at least dilute) Brexit by subterfuge. If they succeed, there will be no end to the incoming religious vibrancy that so appeals to His Eminence.

The vibrations will have such a destructive amplitude that the resonance may bring the house down, and the British people are beginning to realise this.

They indeed fear that, even in the absence of Muslim violence (a pipe dream in itself), the sheer demographic shift will reduce them to the status of unwelcome guests in their own country. Britain is in danger of being dominated by millions of those who are at best alien and more typically hostile to everything Britain is.

The danger is so much greater because of what His Eminence calls their ‘vibrant faith’ and I’d rather call ‘ideological fanaticism’. For all their sterling qualities, the Muslims can’t usually boast a propensity for characteristically British moderation. Rabid stridency is more down their alley.

Now, given, at best, acquiescence on the part of HMG, what recourse do the British have to limit the scale of this alien invasion, if not to stop it altogether?

Magna Carta, a document marginally more seminal to our statehood than even the EU Human Rights Act, gave the answer 800 years ago (as repeated by Henry III): “… it shall be lawful for every one in our realm to rise against the government to use all the ways and means they can to hinder until that in which have transgressed and offenced shall have been brought again into due state …”

No one in his right mind would want this to happen. But if it does, it’ll be thanks to our bien pensant leaders, secular or religious, who don’t see the blindingly obvious danger and do nothing to combat it.

We have nothing to learn from the Muslims’ vibrant faith, Your Eminence, or any other type of fanaticism. The strength of Christianity can only come from within, and diluting this strength by multi-culti pronouncements indeed “does nobody any good.”

There’s no denying that High Court lawyers have thrown Brexit into confusion.* Shakespeare must have anticipated this situation when he made Henry VI’s Butcher Dick utter the above words.

Part of the reason confusion reigns is that so many people, including me, clearly prioritise their beliefs. For pious people, God is clearly above any prioritisation, but a pecking order exists for more quotidian creeds. The higher one will always take precedence.

For example, the kind of people who currently insist that Parliament must have its say in not so much Brexit but even the invocation of Article 50 also believe that our sovereignty has to be moved from Queen and Parliament to the EU.

Chaps, don’t you sense self-refutation in your arguments? If you fervently believe in British sovereignty vested in Her Majesty’s Parliament, how can you welcome a situation where most of our laws come from a foreign body unaccountable to king, country or, for that matter, God?

It’s that prioritisation kicking in. Remainers love the EU for whatever reasons, the principal one, I suspect, being the kinship bureaucratic elites everywhere feel for one another, trumping whatever loyalty they may have towards their own people.

Some of them, by no means all, may also quite like our parliamentary tradition, but their affection for the EU occupies a higher rung in the ladder of their pieties. Hence their strategy is to derail Brexit by whatever means. If that involves screaming their previously understated love for Parliament off the rooftops, then so be it.

M’lords on the High and Supreme Court, most of whom are Europhiles, play along. They seem to ignore the issue of the royal prerogative, which actually vests HMG with executive powers. Among those is the power to abrogate treaties, which has been put into effect for as long as I’ve been following British politics.

The very same people who never raised an infinitesimal objection whenever the government exercised this prerogative over the last several decades (not wishing to date myself, I won’t tell you how many), now scream bloody murder about the government wishing to invoke Article 50, thereby acting on its royal prerogative and fulfilling an unequivocal popular mandate.

Actually, I shouldn’t be tossing stones out of the glass house in which I live. For I too am guilty of the same twisting and turning, if in the opposite direction.

For I detest the EU with the same passion that its champions love it. In fact, I detest it even more than some UKIPers do, who seem to be deaf at times to the clearly fascist noises emanating from that vile contrivance. My years in Russia have made my hearing extremely acute in perceiving such sounds, which may be ultrasounds to others.

This detestation of the EU is even stronger than my opposition to direct democracy by plebiscite. I think it’s ridiculous that constitutional issues, anchored as they are in centuries of history, a careful accumulation of precedents and reams of political philosophy, should be decided by a show of hands – which extremities mostly belong to people who don’t have much of a clue about constitutional history, legal precedents and political philosophy.

Edmund Burke, one of our greatest constitutional thinkers, would be appalled by this. He believed that, once elected, MPs should govern according to people’s interests, not their wishes. It was understood that the wise and virtuous people trusted with representing their constituencies knew better than the constituents themselves how their interests could best be served.

If Burke were told that people would decide in a plebiscite the issue of Britain’s sovereignty, he’d immediately retire to his Beaconsfield estate and live a hermetic life thereafter. He might suspect, rightly as it happens, that our parliamentarians solve the conflict between the people’s wishes and interests by representing neither.

Not only am I opposed to direct democracy, I have severe misgivings even about democracy of universal suffrage tout court. When unchecked by the power of other estates, one-man-one-vote democracy first becomes what Tocqueville called ‘tyranny of the majority’, and then the tyranny of a small elite governing in the majority’s name.

Sooner or later, such an elite begins to serve itself, rather than the demos in whose name it supposedly governs. That explains why so much of our governing elite (‘the establishment’ in the popular parlance) are attracted to the EU – answering to a supranational body makes them largely unaccountable to their own people, thereby increasing their domestic power and, consequently, enhancing opportunities for personal advancement.

In case anybody is interested, I’ve actually written a book about this, Democracy As a Neocon Trick. But, having written it, I still agitated for a Brexit referendum, realising it gave Britain the only chance to regain her independence, getting her constitutional essence back on track.

Obviously I’m the anti-EU teapot calling the federalist kettle black. I too seem to prioritise my pieties; I too am prepared to overlook certain inconsistencies, not to say mutual exclusiveness.

And, figuratively speaking, as I hope you understand, I do think Butcher Dick was on to something. How else can we prevent lawyers throwing spanners in the Brexit works?

* My previous post reflected this confusion. I mistakenly attributed remarks made by Lord Kerr of Kinlochard to Lord Kerr of Tonaghmore. My only excuse is that I’m not the only culprit: The Times ran the former’s statements under the latter’s photograph. Also, having visited my ex-neighbour Brian Kerr in his Westminster apartment a few years ago, I assumed, wrongly as it happens, that this was grace and favour. In fact, by contrast to some of our other public servants, Lord Kerr commendably pays for his own accommodation. If my mistake caused any offence, I’m sincerely sorry, especially since I like Brian Kerr very much.

 

 

Muslims murder Christians en masse, mistreat women and toss homosexuals off rather tall buildings.

And yet, in the spirit of Christian forgiveness, a Swedish bishop representing all three groups wants to remove crosses from the country’s churches to make Muslims feel more at home. Eva Brunne, the first openly homosexual bishop in Sweden, got that idea from her wife, who was deeply concerned about the Muslims’ feelings.

Now far be it from me to dispute the legitimacy of the phrase ‘her wife’, even in the clerical, nay episcopal, context.

As founder, chairman and so far the only member of the Charles Martel Society for Diversity and Multiculturalism, I readily accept that a bishop can be a) a woman, b) a lesbian and c) married to another woman. My only regret is that the proposal is so negative.

Why stop the welcoming hand halfway at merely taking the crosses down? Wouldn’t the Muslims feel even more at home if the crosses were replaced with crescents?

After all, making Muslims comfortable has to be what Christianity is all about. In Sweden at any rate.

Reactionaries might suggest that the best way for anybody to feel at home is to stay there, but such a seditious thought undermines the whole concept of multi-culti inclusion and, yes – Christianity.

Didn’t Jesus say “And as ye go, preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand”? In other words, proselytise. Welcome all and sundry. Make them feel welcome, even if it takes removing all visual references to Christianity.

Literalists may argue that he only spoke of “the lost sheep of the house of Israel” as a target audience, but that’s silly. He meant everybody, including Muslims, and don’t tell me they didn’t exist at the time.

Being fully divine, Jesus knew that six centuries later a religion would appear that would encourage its adherents to murder Christians en masse, mistreat women and toss homosexuals off rather tall buildings. God is outside time, isn’t he?

A stickler for historical detail may suggest that so far Christianity has made remarkably few inroads on Islam. Christians are being massacred all over the Middle East, and Eva Brunne’s generosity so far hasn’t been reciprocated. Saudi mosques still proudly display the symbols of their cult, and the number of churches in Saudi Arabia equals, in round figures, zero.

That, however, is no reason to give up on the Swedish version of hospitality. On the contrary, efforts must be redoubled to abase Christianity, thereby doing the Muslims’ job for them.

So yes, the Swedes should definitely replace crosses with crescents. Ideally, in the spirit of Christian proselytism, they should ban Christianity altogether and replace it with Islam as the country’s dominant religion.

That would be jumping the gun, but not by much. The demographic shifts produced by Europe’s hospitality to Muslim arrivals are working towards the same ideal anyway, so why not take the initiative?

Eva Brunne thinks so: the church shouldn’t be “stingy towards people of other faiths”. Even to the point of abandoning one’s own.

The huge potential for heresy built into Protestantism has been fully realised. If, according to Luther, “every man is his own priest”, then it’s but a short step to the notion that every man is his own God.

Hence every man – and woman! – is justified in thinking that Christianity is anything he – or she! – feels it is. In fact, the song ‘Feelings, nothing more than feelings…” should be elevated to the status of a Protestant hymn.

Such solipsism explains the fracturing sectarianism of Protestantism: if everything is open to personal interpretation inspired by feelings, the church will naturally split into numerous churchlets.

“And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand” was a prophetic statement. The Reformation is directly responsible for the demise of European Christianity, exemplified by walking perversions like Eva Brunne and the attendant universal atheism.

Yes, Christianity is in the doldrums everywhere in Europe, including its Catholic part. But at least the firm belief still resides at the heart of the Church that doctrine may take precedence over the way people feel.

Politically correct, multi-culti modernity gnaws at the outer edges of Catholic doctrine, biting bigger and bigger chunks out. But the fangs of modernity still haven’t reached the heart.

The Pope made that clear on his recent visit to Sweden, where he was greeted by Antje Jackelén, the female head of the country’s church. Speaking at a subsequent press conference, the pontiff stated unequivocally that the Catholic Church would never have female priests.

He cited his predecessor John Paul II as the utterer of the final word on the issue, but in fact he could have gone even farther back. The Church doesn’t allow female priesthood because Jesus didn’t ordain women.

The popular counterargument is that Jesus felt constrained by the standards of his backward time. Had he chosen today’s progressive Sweden for his incarnation, he’d be consecrating lesbian bishops like nobody’s business. Thus the outdated notion of God’s timelessness has fallen by the wayside, along with Christianity in general.

One suspects that Martin Luther would be unhappy about the direction his church (and other Protestant confessions) has taken. But the law of unintended consequences worked against him. He divided the house – and it didn’t stand.