“News agencies around the world are carrying the story of a young German woman, a qualified information technologist, who has been told that she faces suspension of her government relief benefits if she refuses to take a ‘job’ as a prostitute in a Berlin brothel.” – LifeSite; Telegraph
Earlier this year, American Mind published a satisfyingly ruthless article on the nature of porn and the righteousness of banning it. I am all in agreement, but this isn’t a single-issue matter, it’s a pebble in a landslide of moral perversity. We live now in an Open Society, and we live in the age of post-modernity. Jacques Derrida once argued that the ultimate virtue of an open society was “hospitality”- an indiscriminate open-handedness which offers its treasures to all comers regardless of their nature. The highest exemplar of this virtue, he averred, was the prostitute.
Jesus is well known for having given time and attention to the lowest of society, chief among them being lepers and prostitutes. The left loves to quote this in response to those who are conservative on sexual morality. Why? As a rule, left wingers are atheists, anti-Christians even. Their explanation is that Jesus loves them more because the low are victims of moral persecution – judge not lest ye be judged, etc. Of course, Jesus is asked why he does this, and he answers, “because they are in greater need of salvation”. Lefties don’t want to cure or redeem the prostitutes like Jesus would, they want to empower them. To do more of what they were doing anyway.
Should prostitution be legal, or illegal? As far as I can tell, the results are inconclusive at best. But is it virtuous? Does it contribute to a healthy personal development and a good society? In the emerging moral order, or shall I say the new establishment, which celebrates promiscuity and shames those who find any practice at all to be shameful, selling one’s body to strangers is considered an exciting alternative lifestyle that we should engineer society around to render consequence free, just like recreational narcosis. They call it “sex work” – as squeaky clean as Hollywood or the Catholic Church.
When you spend a lot of time in the recent incarnation of the Western culture wars, you recognise certain clichées. Glance over at the adolescent right, and you’ll notice a common epithet for the left – “cucks”. Cuckolds. As in, they submissively let their society’s interests be subverted and their moral values become degraded and pretend that it is a liberating act of compersion. This is to misread everything – the juvenile rightists who use this language fail to comprehend the psychology of managed decline, and sober adult rightists are too busy breeding little embryonic empires in the countryside.
The archetypal cuckold of the pornographic arts is a man whose wife is shown a jolly good time by a bigger, stronger man of a lower class status, usually a big stupid black man with a mutagenic penis, or a long train of paying customers. The dumber and more animalistic the cucker (or the more numerous and faceless), the more thouroughly cucked the cuckee. More so if the cuckold participates in his own emasculation, specifically out of cowardice, more specifically a failure to stand up to his wife by leaving her or beating her, yet more specifically a failure to repulse the competitor out of fear of confrontation and ultimately, lack of will to power. Is the leftist, the spit-and-vinegar revolutionary, politely requesting Tyrone remove his cock from her vagina?
No, the left is the establishment, the man behind the camera, writing the “script”, reassuring all parties they are working on art, or at least a respectable craft which entertains and liberates the world from sexual frustration. Read any interview with a pornstar. They are breaking social taboos and being revolutionary, rebelling against repressive social hierarchies. But where did they get all of this anti-bourgeois rhetoric from? The academic left, that’s where. The hippies invented nothing they didn’t learn from Marcuse, and Marcuse invented nothing Rousseau didn’t. The real hardcore lefty knows s/he’s a madam/pimp. This tiny minority are masters of the centres for the training of Human Resources, management and political leadership, the design of pedagogy and the moral training of the upper-third of Western society; they know they are the masters of the brothel cathedral.
Spend enough time in the Philosophy section of YouTube and you’ll spot a relatively popular communist philosophy channel called “Cuck Philosophy”. I mean, look at the name – Cuck Philosophy. Is he a cuck? Does he think he is? Hell no, he’s making fun of the epithet because he knows its so far off the mark it’s a joke. He’s a pimp, and he’s pimping your conscience. You think you can figure me out, drag the normies into your anti-left system of morality? I have the power of a Humanities degree on my side. We’re winning, everyone agrees on what progress means. We’re in the schools. We are the authority on who said what and what the hidden meanings of the world are. We write the policies, we heard the sheep. You’re in the past, we run things on this street.
Hush now girl, let me look after you.
In South Africa, we are drowning in degeneracy. What was once one of the most pious and devout Christian populations in the world has, within a generation, become a society where women become celebrities for exposing their vaginas in public, and the average college student brags about selling her body to older men – “blessers”. We have the highest rate of sexual assault anywhere in the world, and rather than disciplining men for sexual incontinence, and creating a culture of mutual respect, we tell our children that there is nothing wrong with maximising promiscuity and that nobody should be shamed for expressing their sexual urges. Chastity is oppressive.
Rather than addressing the dark side of traditional African patriarchy (dry sex, female submission, polygamy, bride purchase), the decolonisation process has, zombie-like, followed the lead of Western feminism in attacking Christian sexual morality – monogamy, chastity, love and kindness. Instead, sex is about sensation, recreation, even liberation. Young women are encouraged to think that exposing their genitals to more and more men, and being maximally sexually aggressive is a sign of liberation and self-possession. Let’s not forget that men have quietly been “benefitting” from the same liberation, except that men are not all as desirable as the average woman is. Now the asymmetry of the sexual marketplace the Tinder crowd experiences – 10% of the men getting all the women – doesn’t require Tinder. The average urban South African is so divorced from the moral restrictions of their traditional culture that the dating world has become dominated by transactional sexual relationships and the world’s most prolific rape-culture – a perfect ungodly hybrid of African male dominance and Western progressive libertinism. Sex today is had on the terms of the academic establishment and their downstream products in academia, media, community activism and schooling, who train the women to think a whore is more liberated than a chaste cubicle serfette, who is in turn more liberated than the housewife.
If you take a look at any of the mores that the left have attacked over the course of the 20th century, you realise that all of them were things that protected the underclass from destitution, misery and degradation. Familial love was usurped by aspirations to female corporate desk-slavery and rejection of parental authority. Drug abuse was facilitated by the fetish of psychonautry and the derision of bourgeois temperance. Promiscuity, compersion, pornography and prostitution have been reformulated as as expressions of liberating pleasure-seeking and self-ownership, even though they are a debasement of all parties concerned. Christian charity and community support replaced by state welfare, traditional architecture by radical, new symbols of the rejection of tradition which ultimately cost more, don’t last, and are less useful or visually pleasing.
But these developments are no conspiracy, they are a synergy of interests – the leftist intellectual upper classes pissing on tradition and any kind of meaningful morality, the wealthy business elite exploiting the opportunities for reform and change, and the parasites and wontons of the world angling for an easier life. Everyone wins in the short term, especially the politicians, who get to give everyone what they want. But the underclass only win tips, the system takes the winnings and blows them. On the one hand, you get to declare yourself independent from all duties to care and look after yourself or your house or be loyal to a man. You get to be “independent”, which means you are a single, unemployed mother of three in a council estate with a rotating cavalcade of violent abusive suitors. If your children fail in life, it’s not your fault, it’s the system. If your back yard is filthy, the government should come and sort it, not you.
Society in the grips of progressive ideology is a gang bang led by anticapitalists, tenderpreneurs, vice peddlers and welfare leeches. The liberal gets to feel that they nice and tolerant and cool and open-minded and progressive and future-oriented by voting for the party, supporting the policy, signing the petition, taking a tentative toke on the joint as it passes at the diner party. And in return, the college-educated commie activist gets their tenured petty power position, the narcotics industry acquires new customers, the business community gets private contracts to build white elephant projects and deliver extra gibs to more self-interested and resentful underclass, while the tax bill for all those cosy middle-class liberals climbs through the roof.
What they birthed in the early 20th century, was a morality of anti-morality, whereby any notion of right and wrong was to be endlessly mutated to strike at the norms which held together communities, families, nations, states and churches in order to form a new anthropocentric moral hierarchy, monolithic and duty-free in nature. This wasn’t an act of self-destruction by people who hated “their own” culture or race. The leftist sees themselves as simultaneously within and without the community, as it were, above it – “global citizens”. The outgroup they hate is the alienated ingroup, and the outgroup they love is the foreigner, the outsider, the subaltern. The Anglo who loves the blacks and castigates the Boer, all from the armchair comfort of the leafy suburbs. But it isn’t a real love. It’s pimp love.
The whores in this equation are the patrons of this great power game – anyone who buys the leftist narrative that casts them as the victim. Being a victim is empowering only insofar as you suck dick for daddy – you get protection and subsidies when you do what fits the narrative. Be a black conservative because you love Jesus and tax breaks for small businesses? Pimp slap! You’re cancelled, housenigger. Be a young woman who dislikes idleness and insists on working, carrying condoms and staying fit? Fuck you, welfare is for unemployed single mothers with diabetes.
See that church you like? Well I just converted it to a gay bar! See that beautiful Christian girl you were raising? Well I just convinced her to shave her head and lop her tits off. Your childhood home? Affordable housing for foreign migrants. Statues of your heroes? We’ll replace them with statues of marginal left-wing terrorists and victims of colonial crimes. We exist to fuck your world, and all you can do is watch, because it’s not really rape, is it? She’s here of her own volition. This is a democracy, baby.
Who are they to tell you to drink less, smoke less, feed your children something healthy? Teaching you to cook is sexist, motherhood and marital fidelity are patriarchal. Get fat, get heart disease, let your children do whatever, and throw your litter on the street. The worse and more crime-ridden the neighbourhood, the more homeless drug-addicts and broken families, the more the left gets to point fingers and find new ways to indict a dead system, and the more welfare is handed out, the more consumption is produced in the market, and the more loyal, dependent learned-helpless voters there are for the party of “More State Power All the Time Unless That Means Law and Order” – the party of the intellectual left.
Don’t get me wrong, I am just as black-hearted a reactionary as the next man, but these poor people are not really to blame. Can you imagine the effort required to question the hollowness of this existence and commit yourself to changing when every aspect of your social and economic environment encourages the continuity of your and your offspring’s degeneration? Can you imagine the effort required to declare that the degree you studied is worthless, and that all the values they stamped into your brain were self-serving, that you are a brainwashed victim of circumstance, lose all your friends and move to a small town to take up carpentry?
Can you imagine what it takes for one of these “New Europeans” to admit that they’ll never really be seen as a European, even by the wokest English-speaking Berlin German, and that you might be psychologically better off “back home” where your children can blend in and where you are probably more skilled and educated than the average, and can enjoy a far lower cost of living? Even wilder, can you imagine a leftist admitting that they are responsible for creating an unskilled black and brown underclass of millions? What about South Africa, where welfare has created a population of welfare recipients more than twice the size of the tax base? With the unemployment figures inflated by unionisation, ruling party gatekeeping and a minimum wage twice the median salary, who could blame the young girls for working towards a welfare baby?
The paradox of desire is that if you are freer to indulge your desires, you are more helpless before them, and all of us who aren’t saints rely on each other’s solidarity for our moral rectitude. You are far more weak and more easily manipulated if you are liberated, consequence-free before a sensual banquet than if you are continent and self-possessed, capable of self-restraint. The man who holds the tickets to the banquet has you by the short-and-curlies. Why then do we see those who encourage this empowering self-control as tyrants, and the planetary hegemonic power-structure which subjugates us to consumption and dependency as liberating? Excuses will be provided for every transgression or indulgence you entertain; it’s not you, it’s “the system”. And it really is the system. Just not the system we’re told it is. Don’t talk back – your daddy didn’t love you like I do. Hey girl, it’s not your fault the John hit you, that’s the way it is. Indeed it is, because if you ever tried to get out of there, you would feel jewelled knuckles decorate your rosy complexion quick-smart.
Once you take the Leftist red-painted blue pill, you have no responsibilities. Once you take the Right red pill, you have infinite responsibility, stuck in a Kierkegaardian state of anxiety and despair. All those rape cases you see on far right twitter, where the Somali gent who raped the 16 year old blond virgin, only to be let off after 2 months because the poor dear doesn’t really understand our morals. Those murder cases you read in the Dutch press where some young black psychopath brutalises the owner of a small corner shop into strawberry jam, only to be given 2 years because he had a tough childhood. These are a tiny handful of cases, but they are real. Once you read the commentary of the judges, your skin crawls, because you realise – they agree with the Nazis: the bastards can’t help themselves, so they can’t be judged. They are, in woke eyes, like wild dogs – you don’t judge them for biting your child, you just have to decide between putting them down or walking on eggshells.
All this while the dwindling white Kshatriyas on their farms are denigrated as both intrinsically racist and imminently blameworthy for their nature. When the mob’s mimetic vanguard butchers a Boer family, a thousand Anglo whines leak onto the airwaves to weave in the narrative of the abusive Boer and his beleaguered subalterns. Let the kulaks eat lead, their subtext hums. The poor things can’t help themselves. They’re all so very understandable in their hatred and rage. But who is the pimp now? This is South Africa – Anglos aren’t in charge anymore, they just play mouthpiece to the ANC’s policies while burying that silent scream in their mind that remembers the fate of Zimbabwe – only a racist would dare to draw such a parallel, and we’re good little whites. Wouldn’t want to cross any lines now, would we?
Back in 1967, a retired pimp by the name of Iceberg Slim published his autobiography. As a consequence of the several novels he wrote, Slim is credited with birthing the trope of the hero pimp, seen in pretty much every cheesy blaxploitation film. In his autobiography, the breaking in of a whore was explained in brutally direct fashion. You notice some transgression, and then you beat her mercilessly with an object harmless enough to leave no permanent damage, but hard enough to cause pain and intimidate through physical domination. The object is depersonalising for the same reason a fist is personal. In this case, the suggested object is a coat hanger. All the while, you must remind the bitch that she did it to herself, that she forced you to do this. Then you pour her a bath, and bring her a nice glass of wine, stroke her forehead and ask her sweetly if she will behave from now on, and promise to treat her right. But she only has so many miles on her before the eyes glaze over and she becomes a hollow shell of a person, like a bald tire on a street-racing vehicle.
In reality, pimps are created in several different ways. Either an organisation which trafficks in human flesh designates a trustworthy but ultimately violent and predatory man to protect and enforce the brothel, or some guy manipulates and threatens an intimate partner or family member into the game. Alternatively (and this is the feminist version, which almost never happens), the women get together and pool their resources to hire a bodyguard. Most commonly, a combination of hard drugs and physical intimidation is used to trap young girls. But over time, all these arrangements converge. See, to run a brothel, you gotta get women to meet their quotas, or you kick them out. And once the threat of forceful eviction is established, the sweet old madam’s enforcement system is the same as the bastards’ – you will do as you’re told. Eventually it’s no longer about kicking out girls with cold feet, it’s about intimidating them to stay.
Isn’t that rape? Well spotted. Ah, says the radical feminist, but this wouldn’t happen if the sex work was legal. Okay cool, let’s have a look. In Nevada and the Netherlands, the flesh trade is legal, and over there, the trafficking in sex slaves is more lucrative and high volume than ever. Except now, if you really want to be a tart, the state is your pimp, and the pimp slap comes in the form of tax returns. Selling your body to subsidise tenured professors who run a bath for you on the topical chat shows and tell you you’re a sexy, free independent woman exercising her autonomy, and just need more protection, and need the job to be easier and less risky to pursue. Great, until she burns out and has to leave behind her past to lie to a desperate middle-aged man who has to pretend that your dick-sucking acumen is an entirely natural talent to preserve his ego in an autumn romance of convenience and desperation, where the butterfly need not be pimped, because the talents of the caterpillar have been milked until the colours are all gone.
What happens if the girl refuses to deliver what she promised? That means she has just defrauded a customer. But he has no recourse, because any coercive mechanism to enforce service delivery is by definition rape. It’s a catch-22 where one or both parties are always being exploited. Does anyone really believe a brothel madam who tells the polite investigative journalist that there is no trace of manipulation or coercion, that all the girls (or boys) really want to be there? Prostitution can never be morally right.
In the modern age, the exploitation can be utterly devoid of physical coercion, but completely captive to the commercial process of dehumanisation. Does your average camgirl become a better or worse person the longer they ride vibrators for donors? Are the rows of lubed-up marathon masturbators in perspex cubicle porn farms liberated? Do the viewers become better or worse people the more they pay for extra bursts of vibration by dollar-activated remote control, the more they become attached to their favourite nymphettes, the more they stroke themselves into sticky oblivion? Nobody needs to use any fancy words like “objectification” or “commodification” to understand what’s going on here. Everybody makes themselves lesser and more spiritually debased, wasting their youths on cheap, fake validation in lieu of a fully developed, healthy future relationship, which can scarcely measure up to the monetary rewards of online whoring or the fantasy projected onto the online whore.
No need to get pimp-slapped, paying the bills and buying clothes and travelling to exotic locations to finger yourself for the titillation of your followers is a vicious cycle with its own incentives. And after a while it become more normal and satisfying than real relationships, because those are awkward, unsatisfying and difficult, whereas being told you’re beautiful, getting sent enough money to pay for a million candlelit dinners and cumming more times in 30 minutes than any man will make you in any night of pleasure far outweighs the benefits of male company (at least in the short term) except in the case of the most eligible top 1% of wealthy young bachelors, now that you’ve learned to see men as little more than piggy banks.
And on the other side of the equation are profligate tossers investing their disposable income on waifu-flavoured bathwater. Once you are paying for trace leavings of a woman you pay to see from a distance of thousands of miles through fibreglass, how can the grimy walkaday humiliation of casual rejection possibly measure up? Even if humiliation is your kink, where will you find an ordinary girl who is open to humiliating you in that intimate but safe way that doesn’t take months of personal grooming and relationship building? Easier to pop out the credit card and throw wetnip_kitty69 another Hitachi pulse before coating your desk with spooge and getting back to Netflix.
Oddly, many “sex-positive” feminists these days seem to think this is an acceptable if not admirable arrangement, while casually expressing the most profound disgust with one end of the social inequality. It would, by any reasonable definition of the word count as commodification – capitalist exploitation, objectification, fetishism, blah blah fishpaste. All that nasty stuff. But sex workers cannot be judged. The sisters are doing it for themselves. When a woman exercises her autonomy to pursue a traditional family, we all know she’s sold out to the patriarchy, embracing and normalising an oppressive social structure. But literally selling out to basement-dwelling wannabe patriarchs who consider ordinary women to be recalcitrant whores? Hey, we’re sex-positive, we freed them from the shackles of traditional morality, put some cash in their pocket. And they provide a public service by diffusing the sexual tension of potential rapists (or so we tell ourselves).
Do you think the cycle of exploitation is any different for the porn industry? Sure, they can stay clean, take regular tests, exercise and take their supplements. But are they always enjoying themselves? Or do they grin and bear it to keep making the bills, afraid to fall out of favour with the PornHub algorithm? Fail an STD test or develop a taste for white powder, and you end up on the seedy side of the biz where there are no rules except that the lines of coke run out when you can’t put out. And then you wake up with cardiac arrest from gonorrhea-induced septic shock and get swept into the memory hole no self-respecting masturbator will plumb for fear of killing his boner forever. Just ask Olivia Nova.
But hey, we’re feminists, sexually liberated, allies of the sex-worker. We don’t slut-shame, we let our daughters shag who they want, how they want from as young as they want. Don’t let anybody tell you what to do with your body. Especially not if it’s your parents or someone else who loves you.
And lest we forget the nice, leafy-green suburbs, does anyone recall the tenor of a teenage sex culture? Parents are tyranical for attempting to suppress and police teenage sexuality, especially female sexuality – so goes the modern judgment. But I recall an interview with some teenagers from around the world back in 1950 – a Pakistani, a Nigerian, a Korean and a Finn. The Finn blithely and vapidly remarked that everyone in America was friendly. The Korean thought “each to his/er own.” But the Pakistanis and nigerian girls had the sharpest insights. The Pakistani marvelled at the titillating freedom of American dating culture “it would never be allowed in Karachi.” But the Nigerian girls said something remarkable – there is no freedom – girls lie and pretend they have dates to save face when they are really at home with a book.
A nice modern Dutch woman once told me how the ordinary teenage parties her younger sisters attend now consist in girls being pressured to perform sexual acts on one another, just as they were with men in the first sexual revolution. But the difference today, is that everyone must find some kink or some scrap of same-sex attraction lingering in the recesses of their psyche, and develop it quickly, or be deemed either prudish or prejudiced. Such is global culture. But what is the greater tyranny, I ask, to be coerced into sex, or to be prevented from having it?
As Cuties has demonstrated, the progressive world is ever intent on pushing the boundaries, daring us to be a prude and object, incur the ultimate judgement of being judgmental. After all, is the whole of the law not “do what thou wilt”? Just as in Crowley’s maxim, love is only the law when it is “love under will” – an instrumental act in service of power.
When push comes to shove, women are there to motivate power, not to wield it. Even the progressive Kurds with their GI Janes have male-dominated leadership. You can stack the Finnish parliament with women, but where’s the equity in lobbying, banking and IT? Those who wield real power cannot be subjected to quotas. One of the most overlooked elements of leftist totalitarian regimes and the wars and chaos that bring them about is that women get raped, often in great numbers, repeatedly and without consequence. The Soviet Union was notorious for it, from the “collectivised” women of the Russian sexual revolution to the depredations of Joseph Beria and other gatekeepers of material subsistence.
When the revolution hits, all the feminist allies get sublimated into concubines who do little more than cheer the big men on the picket line into more violence for titillation, and reward their bravado with fellatio. In the great South African campus protests of 2015-2017, we had a few rape cases, but they never tarnished the reputation of the leadership. The settlers were the patriarchs, the black men who said sex was their right – why, that’s cultural. We are here to serve the leaders. In political revolutions, all rape victims are forgotten. Who heard from the women of Moscow, 1917? The women of Paris ablaze, the women of the townships amid the ANC’s People’s War?
Nobody. Because the left are here to protect their merchandise, not to foster a family.
The Eccentric Flock 