Is whiteness the new black? It was only a few years ago that Julie Blindel observed that the only group in society that it is permissible to openly mock and deride are the white working-class. But if “chavs” were the modern Stepinfetchits, whites in general are the new Jim Crow.

Actor Morgan Freeman admonished that the way to put an end to racism is to stop talking about it. The new elite are having none of that: on the contrary, they can’t stop yammering about racism.

After all, their entire worldview is riding on it.

I’m talking about the profiteering race-baiters, charlatans and grifters controlling the narrative; the beneficiaries of the billion-pound equalities industry that, paradoxically, swelled as racism in society diminished. Remits therefore widened; goalposts shifted. This monolith needs the “racism” it seeks to destroy in order to survive. Without it, it’s nothing, and careers would suffer dramatically if this near-mythical beast were finally slain.

More than a century ago Booker T. Washington exposed a similar sharp practice. “There is another class of coloured people who make a business of keeping the troubles, the wrongs, and the hardships of the Negro race before the public,” he wrote. “Some of these people do not want the Negro to lose his grievances, because they do not want to lose their jobs.”

Decades ago, then-dutifully-left Norman Podhoretz wrote about My Negro Problem—And Ours. The “problem” that Podhoretz wrote about was that, while, as a progressive-left Jew, he swallowed without question the narrative of white hate and persecution, he couldn’t help noticing that in his everyday world, it was very much the other way ‘round. In my world it was the whites, the Italians and Jews, who feared the Negroes.

British writer Michael Collins describes a similar dynamic at play in the Britain of his youth. While white racism was very real, he says (it being the heyday of the National Front, after all), he couldn’t noticing just how, well, racist the blacks were, too.

That year [1976] I enlisted on a short-lived technical course in which the white Britons in my class scarcely made single figures. The East End outpost of the college was dominated by young black men and women[…]

All but one of the black contingent were united in a loathing of white people and the country of their birth: Inglan is a bitch. One spent an age removing the “British” from an airways bag; one passed a paperback of Roots over my head declaring they’d never to speak to a white person again.

Never mind that, it was wicked ol’ whitey and no-one else who was the racist. As such, whiteness had to be expunged, in a cultural genocide in all but name.

The left and the burgeoning race industry moved the goalposts[…]while black is allocated its upper case B and white is denied it by the New Yorker and the New York Times, the dictionary definition of racism has shifted from that of personal prejudice to a systemic discrimination operated under an oppressive white supremacy[…]

Racism is in our DNA, it goes to the core of who we are as lower-case white people, it seems.

Never mind that allotting a generalised disapproval based solely on skin colour is textbook racism. This is the left we’re talking about, where words mean only whatever the current leftist ideological obsession says they mean.

Whites are progressively being banished from the public sphere. Forced diversity is sweeping the cultural industry, with everything white (let alone male or straight) is systematically replaced by black, coloured, queer and trans. Just don’t be so gauche as to actually say “replacement”, because that’s just a racist conspiracy theory. Ignore what’s happening right in front of you.

Well, at least there’s one role left for whites to play in public life.

[Whites] are needed to be the fall guy, the patsy, the useful idiots on Black Lives Matter protests. Judging by recent events, the role is that of a Honky Uncle Tom with the cakewalking and eye-rolling of the minstrel replaced by taking the knee, raising the fist and self-flagellating for the massa.

Well, some of us aren’t going to sit at the back of the bus any more. No matter how much the great and woke scream “racist!” at the smartphone mirrors held permanently in front of their own faces.

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Lushington D. Brady

Punk rock philosopher. Liberalist contrarian. Grumpy old bastard. I grew up in a generational-Labor-voting family. I kept the faith long after the political left had abandoned it. In last decade or...