From National Vanguard magazine No. 104,
March-April 1985
A member of the National Alliance
who is a law student wrote the following report on a recent act of
conscience he committed in Washington D.C. He will remain unnamed
here, so that he can finish his law studies unmolested and then
participate even more forcefully in the struggle for a racially
progressive future.
---
Enough is enough, I told myself, as I
read the announcement on my school's bulletin board: “Law Student
Anti-Apartheid Demonstration at South African Embassy. Racism Must
End. Point of contact: E. Cohen.” Anti-apartheid demonstrations
had been occurring continuously at the South African embassy for
nearly six months; it was now, it appeared, law students' turn to
perform their duty.
These demonstrations had angered me
from the beginning, but this particular one was more than I could
stomach. The more I reflected on the large role played by the Jews –
many of them staunch Zionists – in the demonstrations and on the
total prostration, the total lack of racial pride, among my fellow
White law students, the less I was able to ignore what was going to
happen. I finally decided that I would attend the demonstration –
to demonstrate against it.
I spent the day before the
demonstration at my house preparing two placards. One of them read:
“Stop the Anti-White Double Standard.” The other read: “Why
No Protests Against Israel's Human Rights Violations?” I also went
to the Library of Congress, where I prepared the text for a leaflet
detailing human rights violations in Black African countries and in
Israel. I did not presume I could reawaken any White racial pride in
the benighted souls of the White demonstrators, but I thought I could
at least point out the hypocrisy of their actions.
I showed up at the demonstration with
my placards and my leaflets, expecting to see a dozen or so of the
students from my law school. I was astonished to encounter a loud
and swirling mass of some 200-300 demonstrators marching on both
sides of Connecticut Avenue, carrying placards, and shouting slogans.
The demonstration, it turned out, had been coordinated among all the
law schools in the Washington area – there are six or seven – and
among young working lawyers as well.
I surveyed the scene for a moment. I
knew I would get lost in the crowd if I went too far into it. An
idea occurred to me. The demonstrators on one side of the avenue
were marching in a large, elongated circle, which extended out onto a
nearby bridge. I took up a position on the bridge about 15 feet from
the point where the circle broke to go back in the other direction.
I held my placard about Israel in front of me. Every person in that
circle was obliged to read it.
Somewhat surprisingly, there was very
little reaction. Most of the protesters read my placard in silence.
A couple of the Blacks raised their fists and said: “Right on,
brother!” There were only two comments from the Whites/Jews that I
heard. One said, “Who's paying you?” Another said, “The old
divide-and-conquer technique, eh?” After a few minutes a fellow
with black, curly hair, who was apparently an Arab, broke away from
the circle and came over to me. He said, “Man, I don't think this
is the right way to raise the people's consciousness.” We
proceeded to argue about whether it was appropriate for me to do what
I was doing where I was doing it.
At this point a Black woman with a
megaphone decided to extend the marcher's circle further onto the
bridge. This had nothing to with me, but it was clear that I was in
the way. I decided to stay where I was. No problem: the circle
just formed around me. I spent the next ten minutes or so holding my
placard in the middle of the circle, as the demonstrators marched
around me.
At length I decided, somewhat
dejectedly, that I wasn't really accomplishing anything. I thought I
would do better to show my placards to the cars passing on
Connecticut Avenue, so I extricated myself from the circle and took
up a position toward the far end of the bridge, facing the traffic.
I held up my other placard, about the anti-White double standard.
But this was an even more discouraging experience: in very few of
the passing cars did I see a White face. Black, Brown, Oriental –
are there no Whites left in Washington?
I decided to go home. As I began
walking to my car, still carrying my placard, I saw a small Japanese
car and four people, two men and two women, who appeared to be White,
gathered around it. When I came closer I realized their car had a
flat tire, which the younger man was changing. I saw them reading my
placard. At last, I thought, I'm getting a message to some Whites.
I smiled toward them as I walked by. But after I had passed them I
heard the young man's voice: “I know where I can get you some free
psychiatric help.”
I walked on for about ten feet, while
what he had said sank in, I stopped. I turned around and walked back
to their car, where I took up a position about six inches from the
younger man. I looked into his pale blue eyes and chubby face:
“What did you say?”
“I said you need psychiatric help.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because I don't agree with you.”
“You must be infallible, then.”
“Leave me alone.”
I slugged him. He stepped back against
the car, and the older man stepped between us. The younger man then
took a further step backwards and cried out: “Leave me alone!”
I spat out my revulsion: “You're the
sick one!” Then I walked away.
Back in my car I sat for a long while,
thinking, wondering, doubting. Had I accomplished anything? In the
distance I could hear the chants of the demonstrators: “Down with
apartheid!”