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Oh, what a desperate state we’re in


IT RECENTLY came to my attention that the phrase ‘Iron Curtain’ was coined not by Winston Churchill, but a certain Herr Goebbels of infamy. Perhaps understandably, Churchill did not attribute it to the Reich Minister of Propaganda when he made it famous in a 1946 speech.

On the same hand, supposedly the line ‘If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it’, often attributed to Joe Goebbels, wasn’t said by him at all, although everyone seems to think it was, which nicely proves its point anyway.

There are lots of lies flying around in case you hadn’t noticed. One of the many is that what today passes as ‘art’ is at all artistic.

One of my go-to comparisons is the state of popular music. Take the doo-wop song Denise by Randy & the Rainbows released in 1963. Its opening refrain is, at least to me, disarmingly sweet in its simplicity: ‘Oh Denise, doo-bi-doo // I’m in love with you Denise doo-bi-doo // I’m in love with you [etc]’.

Doo-bi-doo, indeed. If such a song were released in 2024 it would be laughed away as nonsense; in 1963 it did relatively well in the charts.

Compare this momentarily to the sights and sounds of contemporary Eurovision. After hearing that the UK’s entrant, one Olly Alexander, is ‘ambivalent’ towards our nation’s flag I was curious to see what he would offer on stage.

In short, it is a dreary, instantly forgettable song, made worse by its nightmare-inducing choreography. A group of scantily clad, muscle-ripped men prance around a room akin to an unwashed gents’ toilets, gyrating wildly. It looks like the opening scene of a gay porno flick and would send viewers from any era other than our morally bankrupt own into a collective fit of the vapours.

A question posed online was whether the complaints surrounding the sheer gayness of it merely exposes society’s homophobia: after all, many a music video has hardly dressed women rolling around like freshly slaughtered cuts of meat. This is a tired, boring argument. The fetid stench given off by so much modern music encompasses all orientations and perversions: our degeneracy is truly inclusive.

Objecting to the broadcasting of the UK’s hypersexualised homo-fest alongside some devil-worshipping tranny propaganda (Ireland’s Eurovision entry) on the basis that it is degenerate invites the rejoinder: ‘If you don’t like it, don’t watch it!’

No doubt the easy-come, easy-go purveyors of such arguments would be equally open-minded were Channel 4 to broadcast, say, the Taliban’s stoning of adulterers or the torturing of small animals after the watershed. That said, given the left’s inability to remotely criticise anything pertaining to Islam, they may be inclined to let the former example go unopposed.

In a largely homogeneous society undergirded by shared faith in its religious, cultural, political and social institutions, such as we were until very recently, the variability between citizens was relatively minor: tolerating your neighbours’ differences meant respecting their choice to vote red or blue or their preferred football team.

In a nation riven asunder by demographic, cultural and religious differences, such tolerance necessitates the acceptance of all and sundry. There can be no right or wrong, just a big fat ‘like, whatever, man’ in the face of heinous deeds of all kinds. Witness a society which can quietly go along with the mutilation of its youth in the name of transgenderism, or where a woman in her 20s can be euthanised for ‘depression’, as in the Netherlands, but which winces if you say ‘women don’t have penises’.

It seems inarguable that we live in degenerate times. With no overarching purpose we flit from one mindless indulgence to the next, staving off that-ever approaching chinwag with the Almighty. Transient pleasures take the place of fulfilment. Changes of civilisational scale tear through the streets, but they’re too monumental and we’re too impotent to do anything about it anyway.

As chaos is sown, the seedlings of future disaster grow. In such environments extremists of various assortments come to the fore.

Take, for example, the recent Green councillor who, upon being elected, cried ‘Allahu Akbar!’ with other party members (notably his female co-religionists were absent). This is as clear an indication of the coming descent into sectarian strife as we could ever need. With a collective invertebrates’ backbone, entryism into weak and cowardly institutions goes unopposed. As Laurence Fox pointed out on Twitter, Muslims increasingly hold positions of authority throughout the land.

People are historically illiterate. They imagine that, one day, out of nowhere, political extremes just erupted into existence. Our view of history is condensed into easily digested moments of radical change: the dates of elections or of significant battles. Less easily perceived are the inexorable tides and torrents under way. The minor scuffles, the daily grinding-down of the collective spirit. We are witnessing the humiliation of living in a society taken advantage of due to its indolence and loss of self-respect.

Foxes entered the chicken coop, and the chickens kept inviting more in. They were too busy anyway, watching as they were the decline and fall of civilisation beamed into their living rooms. As they gawped at degenerates dry-humping on the screens, unable to perceive the perversion after the ceaseless propaganda of ‘Pride’, they believed in no longer having children, that women could have schlongs and that climate change is the greatest threat we face.

To return to that misattributed quote: they’re all lies. Big fat ones. They’ve been repeated so much that too many people have come to believe them.

Imminently, a government which advocates ceaselessly for such mistruths stands to be elected through sheer apathy and absence of alternative. The rapidity of our decline will accelerate. Perhaps it’s for the best; at the very least the scales may fall from the eyes of many. Each stabbing, each Allahu Akbar, each inflationary impoverishment will have its own gradual effect.

This article appeared in Frederick’s Newsletter on May 14, 2024, and is republished by kind permission. 

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Frederick Edward
Frederick Edward
Frederick Edward is from the Midlands. You can see his Substack here.'

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