Saturday, 17 March 2012

The British National Party - A Grassroots Perspective

By Cllr Philip Reddall - On 1st May 1997 I set out from my house and walked briskly towards my local polling station, determined to vote National Front. I knew nothing about politics. All I knew was that I was frustrated and that I needed to vent my frustration by voting for a radical political alternative to the mainstream.

I was eighteen years old, fresh out of college, and it was my first time in a polling station. A lady gave me a ballot paper, and pointed me towards a little kiosk where a pencil hung on a piece of string.
Below is a small video introduction to the following artice:

“Things Can Only Get Better”

I opened my ballot paper and when I saw there was no NF candidate I put a big cross next to Labour. In my naivety I thought all parties would be represented, however I walked home with a spring in my step as during the previous week I’d received a VHS video tape, addressed to me, from the Labour Party. I’d played the video and watched as Tony Blair marched down an urban street with hundreds of people in tow while the D:ream track ‘Things Can Only Get Better’ blasted out in the background. The next day, when I heard John Major’s Tories had been soundly beaten, I was overjoyed. I felt like my football team had won 5-0. The feeling of triumph didn’t last long, however, and it would be some years before I gave politics another thought.

My early years

I was born in 1977 in Stourbridge and was brought up in a little Black Country suburb near to Lye town. My father worked for British Leyland but my earliest memory was of him struggling to make ends meet as a builder after taking redundancy from the Longbridge plant. There was a recession on in the 1980’s and there wasn’t much money about, but there was always food on the table. My mother stayed at home while my father worked, but the mortgage still got paid. Nowadays that would be impossible for any working class family.

The local infant and primary school was a two minute walk away and it was mixed half and half between white kids from my estate and Pakistani kids from down the road. Multiculturalism was the norm for me and I knew no different, but looking back I’m pretty glad I was brought up in that environment as it taught me a lot. Our infant and primary school must have been pretty well funded as we had a swimming pool and pupils from other local schools would turn up in coaches to use our facilities. A member of the PTA told my mother that the head teacher received extra funding for taking the local Pakistani children, although my mother never passed that bit of gossip on to me until years later.

The things that I remember from my early experience of multiculturalism were that the Pakistani kids generally didn’t want to mix with us white kids. There were three or four who did; they played in our football team and so on and they did make more of an effort to be friends with us. I suppose they were what we might now call ‘moderate’ Muslims, but they must only have numbered about 10% of all the Pakistani kids that were in attendance.

My education during those years was awful. There were 35 to 40 kids per class and the smarter kids got little attention from the teachers. I remember in one lesson we didn’t want to do maths so the teacher let us do drawing instead. The maths books we learnt from were called ‘Peak Books’ and were numbered 0 upwards. By my fourth year of Primary school my friends and I were on Peak Book 6 and 7 while many of the Pakistani kids were still flicking uninterestedly through Peak Books 0 and 1. They knew they’d get a job in their family business.

Two other things really stand out for me. The first was when I had my pencil case stolen. In class, we each had a drawer where we could store our things. These drawers didn’t have any kind of lock on them, but crime wasn’t a big issue in our school. However one day I came into class and my pencil case wasn’t there and a table full of Pakistani kids were using my stationary. I told the teacher but he wasn’t interested and I was too timid to confront those who had taken my pencils. The next day my dad wrote a letter to the school, but nothing was ever done. Later on one of the more friendly Pakistani kids gave me one of his pens. It was one of those nice Parker pens with an ink cartridge inside. However before I knew it, a gang of six or seven Pakistanis had surrounded me, demanding I gave it back. I was intimidated, so I did as they asked.

Despite all of the above, possibly the thing that frustrated me the most about primary school was sports day. Coloured ribbons were awarded to those who finished first, second and third, but the words ‘first’, ‘second’ and ‘third’ were never used. I remember feeling cheated each year when I did well in the sprint race and received a coloured ribbon. From what I hear there are still many teachers out there who dislike competition and true winners rarely seem to receive proper praise and recognition. The kind of society those teachers have helped build and are still encouraging can be seen clearly on today’s streets.

The things I am writing about may appear to be a one sided view, but it’s all true. I wasn’t at all switched on at the time to the differences between races, cultures, religious faiths or the liberal, left wing views which subdued vigour and competitive spirit. Only looking back do I see things in a different light. The Pakistani kids acted in a different way to us white kids. They had their own separate lessons sometimes called ‘Mother Tongue’ where I presumed they studied their language. Thinking back, they probably studied their faith in those lessons too.

Growing up, I saw the local High Street in Lye change dramatically. There used to be a wool shop, a greengrocer and even a gun shop. I drove along that High Street recently and there are now over 17 Indian take-aways, which is strange as all of them are run by Pakistani’s. There has always been a Mosque in that town for as long as I can remember. I’ve seen white women spat on by Pakistani’s leaning over the railings of that mosque. But I never remember feeling angry as a kid. I just accepted it.

So am I prejudiced?

Are my views prejudiced? The word ‘prejudice’ means: ‘to pre-judge; an unfavourable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason; any preconceived opinion or feeling’. I spent my whole childhood living amongst different races, cultures and religions. I saw with my own eyes. I didn’t ‘pre-judge’ at all; in fact my views were formed in the correct way; by experience.

The years rolled on and I moved up to a secondary school which was almost 100% white. In our first maths lesson there I realised how poorly educated I actually was. I’d never done long division or long multiplication, while some of the kids from other schools had done basic algebra in their primary schools. I was way behind and I struggled, but eventually left school with a number of decent GCSE’s. I had my dad to thank for that; he’d gone to grammar school and had retained a good knowledge of maths, English and science even though he’d have preferred a technical education.

My political awakening really didn’t occur until I was in my early 20’s, notwithstanding that first foray into a polling station two years previous. I’d gone to college after school and studied engineering, but had struggled to find work upon leaving, so our family decided to move from our Black Country home and purchase a business in Shropshire.

In our first year of business we had an internet connection installed; It was a slow ‘dial up’ connection, but it opened the door to a whole new world for me. I’d developed a love for books and I found the internet offered a much wider array of literature that the average High Street bookshop could provide.

From Dar al Sulh to Dar al Islam

I read about Islam and learned of the three stages of Islamic conquest: Dar al Sulh, where Muslims are a peaceful minority community and must abide by the laws of the land they occupy; Dar al Harb, where that territory becomes a war zone as Muslim numbers reach a level where they can push forwards towards their aim of a Sharia state; to Dar al Islam - the Islamic state in its entirety. (Reference: ‘The Sword of the Prophet’ by Serge Trifkovic). But I didn’t just concentrate on studying Islamic scripture. I read about politics and nationalism and soon came to realise that the real problem in Britain were our own politicians; white, liberal politicians who had come through university and been indoctrinated with globalist, communist views, carefully packaged into what we often now refer to merely as ‘liberalism’. Suddenly Britain wasn’t a vigorous nation anymore; it was a ‘tolerant society’.

Angry and Frustrated

Before long I was looking at my country through new eyes. I understood a bit more about politics since that day I’d voted Tony Blair into Number 10, and I’d pieced together some of the lessons I’d unknowingly learned from my early experiences of multiculturalism. I clearly remember the day I did an internet search for both the National Front and the British National Party, which were the two political parties I now knew existed as a nationalist alternative to the mainstream. I could have gone either way at that point, being a little angry and very frustrated, but the more polished look of the British National Party website swung it for me.

Although angry and frustrated, I remember feeling exceptionally scared too, and rather than join the British National Party I opted to join the Trafalgar Club, which is a fundraising diner’s club attached to the Party. I rang the number provided and nervously asked if I could leave if I decided it wasn’t for me. The well spoken lady who I now know as Jean explained that I could, of course, leave if I wanted to and that any financial commitment I offered could be withdrawn at any time.

From then on every single time I took a step forward I felt nervous, and I always promised myself that the next step would be a step too far. However my resolve intensified over the following months and I soon joined the Party as a full member, became an activist, organised a local group, stood in elections and became a Parish councillor.

I found that the Establishment and the media used scare tactics to try and deter people from getting involved with the British National Party, but I saw these threats as bullying plain and simple. And now that I’m a family man with a son to take care of, my resolve is even stronger. I don’t want any child of mine to be a second class citizen, I don’t want them to receive a poor education and I don’t want them to be afraid to walk the street in their own country.

My mother first saw a knife fight aged 10 on the streets of Smethwick near her home. It was a fight between rival Asian gangs. That was 50 years ago, and the colonisation of Britain has been taking place ever since, via immigration and high birth rates. Gaddafi once said that Islam would rule the world through the wombs of its women, and he wasn’t joking. It is high time every patriotic white individual left behind their egos and petty disagreements, got up and worked for justice. Too much time has been wasted and the door of opportunity will not stay open forever.

In recent years I have come to some startling yet accurate conclusions; Mainstream politicians say one thing and do the opposite. Immigrant numbers rise no matter whether we have a Labour or Conservative or Lib Dem government. The British government has no control over the laws which govern British citizens. Our towns and cities are no longer British; they are little versions of Islamabad, Somalia and Iraq. The war on terror should be fought here on the streets of Britain, not on the streets of Afghanistan. Our country’s population is changing at an alarming rate. The government which is supposed to protect us has imported what amounts to a foreign army, many of whom hate the people whose country they are now living in, and at the same time our government has sent our troops as far away as is possible to go, into wars which are impossible to win.

I’ve watched news reports of paedophiles placed in halfway houses overlooking seafronts where come summer, young children will roam about half naked. I’ve read reports in the daily Telegraph which state Harriet Harman, a senior political figure, once wanted to water down child pornography laws:

The liberal internationalists who run the Britain would have us believe that what they’re doing is good for us, and there is no point disagreeing because we can’t change what’s been done. But we can and will do whatever we set our minds to.

Anyone who has frequented a public house where lips have been loosened by alcohol will know that there is a huge amount of passive resistance simmering away deep inside most white folk, especially amongst the working classes (the class where armies are traditionally raised). What we in the British National Party must do is prove that there is a way forward, and we can only do that by hard work and by stepping up to the front line, where the battle is being waged. The time has passed for silent discontent.

Brains and brawn

Our Establishment will attempt to deter you with psychological warfare, using fear to keep you in line. Many generations ago, our rulers used force to keep the population in check. Nowadays fear is their weapon of choice. Are you frightened of losing your job? What happens when you lose it anyway because of the recession? When you step back and look at today’s society and consider what your children will have to put up with (predatory paedophile gangs in our towns and cities; positive discrimination in favour of BME (Black, Minority, Ethnic) groups, failing schools) you will realise that the time for excuses is over and the time for radical change is here.

I hope my story inspires others to action. I realise many younger people are currently looking to the EDL for an answer, and that politics may not seem to offer the same adrenaline buzz. To this I would offer two observations. Firstly, British National Party demonstrations are every bit as exciting as anything the EDL can offer. Secondly, without a sound political backing a Cause will go nowhere. Demonstrations are a means to an end rather than an end in itself. Brains and brawn will win the day for us.

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