Guillaume Faye was nothing if not a challenging thinker, as anyone will immediately perceive who enters this book with open eyes and open mind. Many of the ideas the reader will encounter herein are harsh and hard to look upon, but they are genuine and astute; they are a serious man’s assessment of what he regarded as a coming emergency of continental, if not global, proportions.
It is the reader’s free prerogative to decide whether he agrees with Faye’s assessment of our situation or not; but that primary right should never usurp the corresponding duty of reading a book before one has judged it.
INTRODUCTION:
Diagnosis Before the Storm
Let us begin with a small summary.
In Normandy, a priest is slaughtered by Muslims during Mass; in Paris, Nice and other provincial towns, massacres are perpetrated by the same people, all in the name of allah (the absence of capitalisation is intentional on my part, since this fictional entity does not deserve any better); hundreds are killed and mutilated in 2015–2016, with smaller-scale but equally despicable acts also committed (at the time of this book’s completion, the most recent one took place in Strasbourg on 11th December, 2018 and resulted in five deaths); there is ever-increasing criminality involving clearly identified perpetrators whose ethnic origin is often concealed by the official media; and there is also a growing difficulty for the native population to coexist with African and Oriental immigrants who are increasingly aggressive, demanding and violent… All of this is slowly destroying the lives of our natives, i.e. genuine French people, and especially the poorer ones.
What is astonishing is that we have not yet registered any defensive reaction on the part of this formerly valiant people or that of other European countries, let alone the beginning of any sort of retaliation against Arab and black Muslims, who bear the sole responsibility for all of these crimes.
One fails to react and, instead, snivels and proceeds to place candles and flowers where massacres have occurred. This might be due to a loss of collective energy, to a weariness weighing down the French who belong to lower socio-professional classes in the face of populations whose cruelty remains unequalled, or to a fear of having the state — a state that displays tolerance towards the invaders, not to say an attitude of plain and simple collaboration! — target any identitarian awakening with repressive measures.
Yes indeed, but an unpredictable spark may yet cause our natives (meaning THE WHITES — let us state the facts as they are), who are leading miserable and exasperated lives, are weary of being deprived of their tranquillity and culture and are thus driven by a spirit of self-defence, to organise themselves and ultimately launch a counteroffensive.
Not only am I betting on this potential survival reaction, but I also desire it. The primary duty of the intellectual is to be honest with the public. I shall not evade the issue for fear of ‘what people might say’ or of courts that will condemn my book anyway, without even having read it. So here is my immediate answer: yes, I do wish for my people to rise, to reclaim the pride they should never have lost and to secure the ultimate victory. That is what I want more than anything else, for it is absolutely necessary. There, I’ve said it.
The political book that you are holding in your hands is entitled Guerre civile raciale in the French, A Racial Civil War. Some people are likely to think that I am using the term ‘racial’ out of a desire to provoke, instead of resorting to a more catch-all word or expression; in short, that I have opted for it so that this book can go viral! This, however, is not the case. When I write the words ‘race’, ‘racial’ and ‘racism’, I do so as part of a sincere longing for accuracy. My desire is to state the facts as they actually are, here, in France, and in this age of ours, based on all that we see and notice on a daily basis.
This reality is experienced by our peaceful French men and women, who are mocked, attacked, raped and killed every day by individuals belonging to non-European races. Oh, I am certain that the very sight of these words will seem unpleasant to those that are ever so bleary-eyed… I could indeed say ‘people’, ‘ethnic group’, or ‘community’ to bring similar things to mind. Although these words would perhaps be suitable for the demonstration that I intend to give, they would nonetheless still fall short of the adjective racial when it comes to clearly and accurately defining the coming war.
I fail to see why I should ban myself from using a word that actually exists in dictionaries just because the dominant ideology and those who gobble it up so blissfully find it too disagreeable. Do you know what is really unpleasant, by contrast? Living your life surrounded by ten million, twenty million, or even a greater number of Africans and Arabs, with whom we have never wanted to associate. What is very disagreeable indeed is acknowledging the thought that, soon enough, the people of our race, namely the Whites of Europe, will be a minority in their own lands. What is more than unpleasant is our inability to describe the very horror of our situation without burdening our statement of the facts with foolish periphrases and politically correct words, all of which remain less expressive of what is crucial for us to say than of what one is required to say.
We have been invaded by immigrants belonging to foreign and belligerent races that have come here to have their cake and eat ours. They want to reap the benefits of Western prosperity without having to make the same effort we have made in order to enjoy it, while simultaneously retaining their own identity and hating us most openly. They perceive us as being foreign and will continue to do so; it thus seems fair to me that we should regard them in the same manner.
I use the word race because I do not see how it would ever be possible not to label as racist the lyrics of this rap song, which was released in 2018. Read these excerpts and judge for yourselves: ‘I enter nurseries and kill white babies, seize them quickly and hang their parents’; ‘Quarter them to pass the time’ (surely, this is all just irony and not to be taken seriously, right? Let us, however, continue with our charming reading experience); ‘Whip them hard, and do so earnestly’ (these are just rap lyrics, what are you getting at, anyway? There’s nothing bad there); ‘Let it all reek of death, let them piss blood’; ‘Let these foul fruits provide us with a fascinating, pallid and entertaining spectacle’ (how entertaining indeed, wow! Are we having a good time or what!); ‘Take any life they have, let them be lifeless objects from now on’ (oh, because the bloke is in a hurry, in a hurry to kill us right now! But wait, it’s a song, just a song, so don’t panic!); ‘Dominate them, and put your names on their testaments!’; Chorus: ‘Hang them, hang them, hang the Whites!’, ‘No feelings, let them all die at the same time!’ (A genocide — why not? Let us unleash our insanity!); ‘Set an example, torture those too rebellious in front of your whole group’.
Who would dare to claim that these lyrics, written and sputtered by a black man (Nick Conrad — a pseudonym, of course), are anything but a fury-ridden pamphlet targeting the white race and a set of instructions for his third-world friends, urging them all to come and hang us and indulge in various pleasures such as ensuring that we all die at the same time?