It appears to confirm what a lot of us have suspected from time to time but have then dismissed as so scary it couldn’t possibly be true: yes, all those fighting-age men that our governments have mysteriously been allowing to creep across our borders and to be housed and maintained at our expense really are being imported in order to kill us.
I shan’t rehearse the depressing details, which are examined more than well enough in the pod. Rather, I want to try to answer the question: “How did we let it happen?”
More specifically, “How did our nations plumb such depths of stupidity and dumb, cattle-to-the-slaughter acquiescence as to have reached the point where hundreds of thousands of trained killers can be imported into their midst with barely a ripple of complaint from the invaded, occupied and eventually-to-be-massacred populace?”
As Exhibit A let me present an old edition of Desert Island Discs which I happened to listen to for the first time the other day on a long car journey. The guest was former Conservative MP Enoch Powell (who recorded it in 1989, nine years before his death in 1998.) You can listen to the episode here: Enoch Powell on 'Desert Island Discs'
Desert Island Discs, I should explain for the benefit of non-British readers, is one of the BBC’s longest-running and most popular upmarket radio entertainment programmes. Each week a famous or distinguished ‘castaway’ is invited on to reminisce about their life and talk about how they imagine they would cope if alone on a desert island. They name the six favourite pieces of music they would like to take with them, their favourite book and their preferred ‘luxury item.’
Enoch Powell, I should also explain for the benefit of non-British readers, is possibly the most infamous figure in 20th century British politics. Children are taught, almost from birth, to revile him as the monster who in 1968 made a speech so inflammatory and racist - immortalised as the “Rivers of Blood” speech - that it rendered the public discussion of mass immigration off limits for at least one generation and possibly two or three.
But even in my Normie days, I recall not altogether buying the official narrative on Powell. For one thing, I knew from the Black Country side of my family that Powell had been a hugely popular constituency MP in the seat of Wolverhampton South West. People referred to him locally as “Our Enoch” - and not, I felt, because they were all rabid racists who knew a fellow rabid racist when they saw one. Rather, I think, it was because they felt he understood them and cared for them and worked for their best interests.
This is quite surprising, given the second thing I knew about Enoch Powell: that he was a fearsomely bright classical scholar with the kind of rarefied intellect (and correspondingly stiff, awkward manner) that normally goes down like a cup of cold sick with your typical piss-taking Black Countryman. Clearly, through their instinctive suspicion, they recognised something truly remarkable in him.
And Powell was remarkable. He rose from a fairly modest Midlands background to gain the top classics scholarship to Trinity, Cambridge. His mother had taught him Greek in two weeks and by the time he won his scholarship to King Edwards, Birmingham, he was known to be far ahead of any of his teachers. Though I do generally dislike quoting from Wikipedia, this paragraph on his Cambridge scholarship exam, which he sat aged seventeen in December 1929, is a gem.
“Sir Ronald Melville, who sat the exams at the same time, recalled that ‘the exams mostly lasted three hours. Powell left the room halfway through each of them’. Powell later told Melville that, in one-and-a-half hours on the Greek paper, he translated the text into Thucydides’s style of Greek and then in the style of Herodotus. For another paper, Powell also had to translate a passage from Bede, which he did in Platonic Greek. In the remaining time, Powell later remembered, ‘I tore it up and translated it again into Herodotean Greek - Ionic Greek - (which I had never written before) and then, still having time to spare, I proceeded to annotate it.”
The final interesting thing I knew about Powell was the trivia quiz fact that he was one of only two British servicemen - the other being Fitzroy Maclean - who during the War had risen through the military ranks all the way from private to brigadier. As with the first two interesting things, I found this to be a puzzling anomaly: how was it possible that someone so talented, capable and weirdly popular could yet also be the Twentieth Century’s most malign and notorious MP?
It made no sense, I now realise, because the very public destruction and humilation of Enoch Powell was yet another Cabal psyop. Like Lee Harvey Oswald, like Gavrilo Princip, like Muammar Gadaffi, Powell was one of history’s fall guys selected for calumny by the Powers That Be in order to achieve a desired effect and push a particular narrative.
The desired effect, in this case, was to counter and neutralise the British people’s perfectly natural disinclination to accept mass immigration. The narrative to be promoted was that being anti-immigration - even just thinking about it, let alone saying it publicly - was abhorrent, despicable, uncivilised, unnatural and wrong because it meant that you were ‘racist.’
What’s quite funny listening to Enoch Powell’s Desert Island Discs is that he clearly never accepted the role allotted him by the fake history lie machine. Sue Lawley the presenter (who has poshed up her accent but actually comes from an ordinary Black Country background not so far from Powell’s) variously tries to cajole, charm and bully Powell into admitting that he is the monster her BBC employers would like him to be. But Powell just isn’t having it.
When Lawley accuses Powell of having a sinister appearance, he politely - and bemusedly - replies that this is simply one of those tics of facial expression which we all acquire, one way or another.
When she insinuates that his family probably find him terrifying he replies that, au contraire, his grandchildren adore him, that he generally has a way with children, and that his wife must surely find something in him to have endured him all these years.
As for the ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech itself, Powell points out that he was doing no more than reiterating his party’s own policy, which in 1968 was to repatriate immigrants. When Lawley, unable to suppress her BBC sneer, insinuates that really it was those immigrants’ ‘skin colour’ that most bothered Powell, he replies that if Indians had been asked to accept an influx 40 million white people - the proportionate equivalent - they might feel they had just as much of a right to complain.
The conventional view on Enoch Powell that he was a brilliant man who yet never achieved the political eminence that could have been his because of that appalling error of judgement in his speech on immigration.
But like so much of what passes for history it is based on a huge lie. When Powell made that speech all he was doing was stating the obvious: that if you are going to import large numbers of people with different cultural and religious values into an established nation with its own very distinct identity, traditions and moral codes there are going to be unfortunate repercussions. His crime - and it was only a crime because the bought-and-paid-for media conspired shrilly to declare it a crime - was to have embellished his point by making a characteristic literary reference to Virgil’s Aeneid: “As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding; like the Roman, I seem to see ‘the River Tiber foaming with much blood.’
“Your own party leader Edward Heath said it was inflammatory’, goads Lawley.
This, for those listeners in the know, is a cherishable moment.
Heath was a paedophile and a murderer - possibly, though in a pretty tight field given that he’s up against the likes of Tony Blair, Britain’s most nakedly demonic prime minister. Heath inveigled boys from care homes onto his yacht, Morning Cloud, and, having sexually abused them, killed them - or had them killed - before disposing of their bodies in the sea.
Lawley was likely unaware of these awkward facts when she brandished Heath as some kind of moral authority to prove her virtue-signalling point on Desert Island Discs. Still, you’ve got to love the irony.
But this, habitues of the rabbit hole will know, is often the way of things. The people celebrated by history as our greatest heroes are invariably the worst wrong ‘uns (that’ll be you, inter alia, Winston Churchill). And the people who’ve been relentlessly sold to us as the bad guys quite often turn out to have been goodies.
Was Enoch Powell, then, a goodie? We’ll come to that in a moment. But he certainly gives a plausible account of himself in that Lawley interview. The impression you get is of a man decent and honest to the point of naivety who still generously assumes that the way he was so ruthlessly and cynically stitched up by the Powers That Be was just one of those things that could have happened to anyone in the tricksy realm of politics.
It really wasn’t though. This was a deliberately planned and orchestrated historical moment designed to push a specific agenda. What’s fascinating, looking back at that period through Awake eyes, is realising just how close They came to losing control of the argument, how hard They had to work to wrest it desperately back and shape it towards their desired end.
The problem for the Powers That Be was that Powell’s message - mass immigration was going to be a disaster - was extremely popular with the electorate. In fact, it was probably the reason Satanic Ted Heath and his Conservatives won the 1970 General Election - despite the fact that Heath had repudiated Powell’s alleged ‘racialism’ by sacking him from his shadow cabinet.
In a poll taken shortly after Powell’s speech, 74 per cent of those surveyed said they agreed with what he’d said. Can you imagine that happening today? Almost certainly, you can’t. But not, I suspect, because most of the native population don’t feel just the same way in their bones. Rather, it’s that in the subsequent half century they have been subjected to such extensive and thorough conditioning that they are no longer capable of even expressing their own thoughts. “Racism”, they have been trained to think, is so manifestly abhorrent as to require the most stringent self-censorship.
This is the reason we are where we are today. Not because people are too stupid to realise it’s a bad idea to ship lots of fit, well-trained-looking, military-aged foreigners into the country, maintain them at taxpayers’ expense in small hotels and hostels in every town, all behind a massive wall of silence from the political and media class. But because most people would now quite literally rather die than be considered ‘racist’.
The ‘Rivers of Blood’ psyop was a key element in that brainwashing programme. It treated British people like hungry dogs in a cage desperate for meat. (I suppose in this analogy the meat they hungered for would be a combination ‘truth’ and ‘having a meaningful say on the kind of country they would like to live in’). What the Powers That Be did at this moment was to place huge bleeding chunks of that meat just outside the cage - and then electrified the bars of the cage. Every time the dogs - the British people - tried to stick their noses through the cage bars they would be given an electric shock. And so, little by little, they would come to accept that ‘truth’ and ‘having a meaningful say on the kind of country they would like to live in’ had been rendered totally off limit for them.
In order to achieve this goal, the Powers That Be first had to fake up the outrage and drama surrounding Powell’s speech, in much the same way that their modern equivalents did recently over those three children allegedly murdered by an immigrant in Southport. The corrupt media played a major part in this: so, for example, the Times - edited by the ineffably rank and compromised Cabal lackey William Rees Mogg - did its bit with an editorial declaring it ‘an evil speech’ and saying ‘This is the first time that a serious British politician has appealed to racial hatred in this direct way in our postwar history.’ And the tabloids did theirs by bigging up the supposed increase in racial hate incidents which had allegedly resulted from Powell’s speech.
Unless you’re wise to the game being played it’s quite easy to be taken in. But once you know how these things work it becomes transparent to the point of comical obviousness. Essentially, the rule is this: the truth is whatever the slippery, mendacious, bought-and-paid-for media declares it to be. So, if a tree falls in a forest and the media - or rather its shadowy controllers - says it didn’t fall then pretty soon it will become an established and eternal fact that that tree is still standing upright. Anyone who suggests otherwise, even the people who vividly recall personally chopping down that tree with axes and chainsaws, will be marginalised, ridiculed, ignored.
This is what happened with Powell’s speech. It only became notorious because it had been pre-decided it should become notorious and therefore the media declared it to be notorious. Under other circumstances it would have gone unreported and would quickly have been forgotten, as most political speeches are.
What’s so diabolically effective about this process is that most people in this evil lie machine are acting in good faith. They simply have no idea that they are pushing the agenda of a tiny, psychopathic, misanthropic Cabal hell bent on divide and rule. I know this, because I used to be one of those innocent dupes myself.
My job, as a comment journalist, did I but know it, was to gold-plate and copper-bottom all the various lies we have been told by academics, newspapers, historians and so on over the years. This is the real purpose of anniversary pieces and think pieces on epochal events, like, say, 9/11. Once the fake facts have been established as truth, you as a comment journalist or a think piece writer then cement these fake facts in the public imagination by reminding everyone, every now and again, about how evil and stary Mohammad Atta’s eyes were, or how tragic those final telephone recordings were from the doomed passengers were, or how heroic the story of the singing Cornishman was.
Every shade of opinion on any subject is represented in the mainstream media: but only so long as it doesn’t get too close to the knuckle.
Over the years since Rivers of Blood, for example, you might have read the odd article by designated right-wing Blimp characters like Simon Heffer expressing cautious sympathy, even mild admiration for Powell. They might go so far as to say he was misunderstood, or misrepresented, or unlucky. And they will all dutifully repeat the accepted nonsense that Powell’s words were so contentious, inflammable and divisive that they rendered reasonable discussion of the immigration issue quite impossible for the next few decades.
But what you’ll never ever get from any commentator of bottom or influence is anything approaching the truth: that in 1968, a prominent politician was publicly humiliated in an utterly fake controversy over which no one would have batted an eyelid (“Politician makes speech, shock”) if they hadn’t been ordered to do so by a co-ordinated series of newspaper headlines.
The purpose of this cooked-up furore was to soften up the British populace for successive waves of mass immigration from Commonwealth countries. Various excuses were offered for this mass immigration - ‘they’ll do the jobs native British people refuse to do’, ‘they’ll help support an ageing population’, ‘they’ll boost GDP’, etc. If the British people had known what was really behind all this, there would have been a revolution.
Mass immigration was being imposed on them to divide, weaken and ultimately destroy them. All the stuff about melting pots and the joys of diversity were just handy, distracting slogans. The native population - and indeed immigrants who’d now settled and consider themselves British - were never going to be consulted on this. And even if they were, their politicians were in no position to respond to their needs because those politicians were just puppets of the Predator Class.
The people who really called the shots had decided long ago - in the Coudenhove-Kalergi Plan of the 1920s, for example - that through a process of demographic attrition known as ‘white replacement’ the national identities of once proud, independent and distinctive European nations could be diluted and weakened to the point where they were no longer capable of resisting One World Government. This is roughly where we are now.
Try telling that to Simon Heffer next time you bump into him at a dinner party. And if you do, please take a video of him blustering about the utter insanity of your conspiracy theory. This is how people in the mainstream media think. As I say, I know this because I used to think that way myself.
*I have edited this piece to remove the ending about Powell’s alleged sexual improprieties. I’ll discuss this issue in a separate article - but I don’t think it has a place in this one because it just distracts from the thrust of the argument in this one.
Editors note: Here is that article:
Article by James Delingpole
James Delingpole is a writer, broadcaster and truth seeker. He hosts the Delingpod - the world’s most entertainingly shambolic ‘conspiracy’ podcast.
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