Our love affair with immigration.

Theoretically, though, we could still right the ship. But the first step is the termination of an abusive relationship: Our love affair with immigration. The historical norm is to protect your shores from culturally imperialistic foreign elements, not invite them in. And the only reason this simple truth escapes us is that we have fallen victim to immigration and diversity dogma, to a sinister salesmanship, a leftist juggernaut that could sell a full-length burka to a NOW member. And, in a way, that’s exactly what they’re doing.

Or perhaps it’s more like selling pork carnitas to a jihadist.

No, actually, it’s more like selling death to a civilization.

As Orwell said, "We have now sunk to a depth at which re-statement of the obvious is the first duty of intelligent men." Mr. Duke does that.

We're reading a book, The Field-Marshal's Memoirs (1975), by the superb John Masters who wrote with such insight and humanity about his service with the Fourth Prince of Wales's Own Ghurka Rifles in India in the 1930s. It's a work of fiction that contains this quite tangential passage:

[Martin] was smiling to himself as he walked fast along the Embankment, past the heraldic gryphons marking the boundary of the City, past H.M.S. Discovery and Wellington, and on to the Waterloo Bridge. . . .
At the station he bought a paper and after a short wait, got into his usual Ist class compartment when the 5:38 came in. He folded the paper and began to read. Cricket results. Unrest in the Middle East. Bombs in Londonderry.

In short, a brief mental snapshot of a man for whom there was no necessity to consider the rights, feelings, treatment, integration, housing, education, or ultimate destiny of even a single Muslim inside the borders of Britain.

Multiply that minor vignette from the literature of the last 500 years in Britain and there is no mention whatever of any Muslim anywhere in the land except, occasionally, a report of some contumacious and clueless Arab diplomat obviously convinced he'd fallen into a spittoon.

Yet, today, the situation is quite the opposite. "Martin's" newspaper will today have photos of Muslims demonstrating in the streets of Britain holding signs that read, "Behead those who insult Islam." What a gross betrayal of Martin on the part of his political leaders who would put him in the position of having to consider, let alone come to grips with, something so alien, foreign, and hostile right in his own neighborhood!

The Sublime Leavening of Eastern Vitality.

Consider the stark tragedy of this. The land of Shakespeare must now wrestle with the conundrum of how to integrate a Muslim culture into a Western society that is hated and rejected by the former. What place does a muezzin's call to prayer have in the society of Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard"?

The obvious answer: none whatsoever.

In 1968, Enoch Powell was howled down when he attempted to warn Britons about the dangers of importing immigrants from the colonies. Even then the disastrous habits of mind were firmly rooted in the Western mind.

Ignorant, wrong, passionate, certain, and resident.

One has to ask, "By what extraordinarily foolish series of decisions and assumptions, did Western man everywhere embark upon a process of importing people from other countries with cultures, languages, and religions not only vastly different from their own, but, in come cases, palpably hostile to their own?"

Can this have occurred other than as a result of mental or spiritual corruption?

Too strong a word? Hardly. Yet it's the very guidon of the left as it seeks out and strengthens its ties with rejectionists of all stripes.

"Getting the Government the Third World Deserves." By Selwyn Duke, SelwynDuke.com, 6/15/07 (emphasis added).