Just how bad can hardcore white supremacist genocide-fantasy fiction be? As it turns out, it’s WAY worse than you would ever care to imagine.
I hate to be a populist, but this is one of those rare occasions where I think the general consensus has it right. This thing is a vile, morally-reprehensible piece of shit and it deserves every ounce of hatred hoisted upon it -- if not more.
The thing about “The Turner Diaries” is, as vehemently decried a book as it is, very, very few individuals have actually read the damn thing. It’s been on my to-do list for quite a few years, and even at a paltry 100 or so pages, it’s one of the most excruciating literary undertakings of my entire life. It’s over-the-top, slobbering hatred makes “Mein Kampf” seem downright lucid by comparison, and it’s approach is so preachy and self-righteous that it makes “Unintended Consequences” read like light George Orwell. On top of being a categorically offensive book, it’s also a poorly composed one. It’s a shitty ideological message wrapped up in a shitty speculative fiction tortilla -- it’s got so many levels of “bad” going on simultaneously that you really have no idea where to begin criticizing it.
For starters, the book is written in this really clumsy “historical” manner. As in, it opens and closes with a message from the future, with an “editor” from the year 3000 periodically popping up in the main narrative to explain what the metric system and contemporary racial pejoratives mean.
The foreword begins with some background on the title’s protagonist, Earl Turner, whose diaries serve as the primary meat of the tome. Chapter one places us in D.C., circa Sept. 1991, two years after the “Cohen Act” stripped all Americans of their firearms (oddly enough, the date given for the great “Gun Raids” is Nov. 9, 1989 -- the exact same day the Berlin Wall come a tumbling’ down.)
Well, as anyone whose read “Unintended Consequences” will tell you, depriving the angry white man of his guns is all we need for a citizen’s revolt, but before that, Mr. Pierce -- a man with a PhD in physics and a former instructor at Oregon State, it is perhaps worth mentioning -- lets us know about this thing called the “Human Relations Council,” which is a reverse racist government agency consisting of black personnel tasked with de-arming all the Chalkies.
So what does post-gun America look like, you might be wondering? Well, everybody gets a gas ration card/national ID, which has your social security number linked to it, with America’s only true patriots (that being, hardcore Jew and black haters) forced to live underground, periodically resurfacing to beat liquor store owners with soap blackjacks, “Full Metal Jacket” style and kill Hebrew deli owners to pay their power bills. Turner makes a quip about corrupt governments, not tyrannical ones, being the type that get overthrown. The vestiges of the Tea Party, I no doubt imagine, are probably wanking to this already.
Our heroes head to Pennsylvania, where in preparation for the national gun ban, they buried all of their weapons. They dig them back up and head back to D.C., where the eponymous Turner goes REALLY in depth in describing his apartment’s utilities.
From there, we’re introduced to Katherine, Earl’s love interest. She was a former congressional secretary who bought a gun after her roomie was raped and killed by a -- you guessed it! -- black intruder. Earl says some shit about Israeli foreign policy leading to a U.S. energy crisis (can you tell this thing was written in the 1970s yet?) and his plans to demolish the J. Edgar Hoover Building -- complete with some suspiciously detailed accounts of the bomb making processing.
If you’re looking for some sort of philosophical/ideological/genocidal underpinning to the book, here’s a fairly self-righteous, self-justifying (and anti-Semitic as fuck) passage from early on:
Indeed, we are already slaves. We have allowed a diabolically clever, alien minority to put chains on our souls and our minds. These spiritual chains are a truer mark of slavery than the iron chains which are yet to come ... why didn't we rebel 35 years ago, when they took our schools away from us and began converting them into racially mixed jungles? Why didn't we throw them all out of the country 50 years ago, instead of letting them use us as cannon fodder in their war to subjugate Europe?
By the way, the book tosses the term “libertarian” around quite a bit -- in one case, at least, as a couplet with the phrase “swarming hordes of indifferent mulatto zombies.”
So the FBI building gets blown to smithereens on Oct 12, 1991 with about 700 or so fatalities. The author describes the decimated bodies in gruesome detail, ironically lingering on the aesthetics of “black smoke” for quite some time. Turner displays something that kind of resembles regret for killing mostly innocent pawns, but a few sentences later, we get this cheery little rationale:
There is no way we can destroy the System without hurting many thousands of innocent people-no way. It is a cancer too deeply rooted in our flesh. And if we don't destroy the System before it destroys us-if we don't cut this cancer out of our living flesh-our whole race will die.
We get some more rhetoric about the Jewish-liberal-democratic-equalitarian plague (while Turner, with just a smidge of hypocrisy, praises “an Oriental approach to life.”) And hey, what do you know, this Willie Pierce fellow is kinda’ anti-woman, too!
Liberalism is an essentially feminine, submissive world view. Perhaps a better adjective than feminine is infantile. It is the world view of men who do not have the moral toughness, the spiritual strength to stand up and do single combat with life, who cannot adjust to the reality that the world is not a huge, pink-and-blue, padded nursery in which the lions lie down with the lambs and everyone lives happily ever after.
So after Earl bemoans Black Panther sex crimes and describes women’s lib as a “mass psychosis designed to deny one’s own racial identity,” he kvetches about his relationship with Katherine. Way to act like a pussy, you bomb-building, mega-racist mass killer, you!
Then, the Washington Post office gets bombed cause Earl don’t like their politics, and then he and his motley crew hitch a ride with a black taxi driver (whom they kill) before shooting an editor dead in his own home. Then, D.C.’s largest TV transmitter gets blown up, but a radio station siege gets all messed up and a couple of “Organization” members get killed. With a full on war against “mass media” as a construct raging, Earl brings up the “propaganda” used against Hitler by the Allied forces. Which reminds me: why is it that white supremacists can’t accept that Hitler killed a whole bunch of Jews, especially when their anti-Semitic screeds already encourage the mass extermination of the Hebrew peoples?
After that, a Washington Field Command mutineer is executed. “His were the motivations of a libertarian,” Turner writes, “the sort of self-centered individual who sees the basic evil in government as a limitation on free enterprise.”
From there, America falls into a chaotic orgy of traffic jams and brownouts. Earl’s buddy Bill makes grenade launchers out of shotguns, and we learn that the Supreme Court recently decriminalized rape to appease minorities … and women’s lib has lead to sexual assault victims being jailed for pepper spraying would-be attackers, somehow.
In Nov. 1991, a mortar attack takes place during a D.C. press conference, and a bazooka attack blows up a plane full of Jews. Earl said that, a long time ago, Jews had infiltrated the Christian churches and turned them all into “State Worshippers.”
Life is uglier and uglier these days, more and more Jewish. But it is still moderately comfortable, and comfort is the great corrupter, the great maker of cowards. It seems that, for the time being, we have already caught all the real revolutionaries in America in our net. Now we must learn how to make some more, and quickly.
Meanwhile, Georgetown has been overrun with devil worshipping queers, because all drug laws have been repealed. Then, Earl runs into Elsa, one of the many street urchin “dropouts” that he believes may be of “some use” to the insurgency.
Earl gets drugged by a command force psychiatrist and is shown THE BOOK. The doctor and a resistance major make him take a super-special anti-statist white man oath, and then he’s given a necklace with a suicide pill in it.
Some ruffian black fellas break into their compound, and they all got pummeled to death with crowbars. The editor from the future lets us know that heroin use was part of a government-enforced race mixing program, because that’s vital information, you know.
Earl then describes to us an “anti-racism” rally in Chicago that, irony of ironies, turns into a full-blown “honky cat-killing” riot:
Another incident in which the TV viewers were treated to close-up coverage was the killing of a cat. A large, white alley cat was spotted by someone in the crowd, who started the cry, "Get the honky cat!" About a dozen demonstrators took off down an alley after the unfortunate cat. When they reappeared a few moments later, holding up the bloody carcass of the cat, an exultant cheer went up from those in the crowd near enough to see what had happened. Sheer insanity!
We then learn that organized crime controlled labor unions and had strategic partnerships with black nationalists. Earl visits Elsa’s underground dump society, where everybody smokes weed. He then describes her body in a creepily detailed fashion. All of the blacks, he feels worth telling us, surely wanted to rape her good down there. We’re then introduced to a character named -- get ready for this one, folks -- Kappy the Kike, who is (surprise!) a Jewish criminal kingpin who exchanges TV sets with feral children in exchange for wholesale white girls.
Now it’s 1993. The gang is still all together, and they get into a shootout with the FBI secret police … which is run by “Col. Saul Rubin” of Israeli Military Intelligence, for some reason. They talk about Eichmann’s “show trial” to garner global sympathy for the Jews; then, Earl gets anally probed by Rubin’s gang of all-black henchmen. Then, Earl gets tossed into a military prison for a year a half and talks about a Houston bombing killing 4,000 people on, interestingly enough, Sept. 11, 1992.
Earl, of course, is sprung by Organization liberators. Put on trial by the secret underground faction, Earl is forced to go on a suicide mission to redeem himself. Cue several pages of guerilla tactics fan fiction and some really, really heavy-handed “bread and circuses” bullshit.
Now, Earl is living on the West Coast, under the assumed identity “David Bloom.” Then, he goes to Chicago, where he gets into counterfeiting money and plans to blow up an electrical grid, shell the D.C. Israeli embassy and then set off a “dirty bomb” inside a nuclear power plant. By the way, Pierce, the author of this fine little manifesto, actually WORKED at Los Alamos for a few years, if you can believe it.
The white folks take out a key telephone exchange in Dallas and a sheriff in Denver gets whacked.
When he arrived home that night after his TV interview, he found his wife on his living-room floor, with her throat cut. Two days later his patrol car was ambushed. His bullet-riddled body was found in its burned-out wreckage. It is a terrible thing to kill women of our own race, but we are engaged in a war in which all the old rules have been scrapped. We are in a war to the death with the Jew, who now feels himself so close to his final victory that he can safely drop his mask and treat his enemies as the ‘cattle’ his religion tells him they are.
With the Interstate exchanges blown up and the police departments overthrown, the white supremacists hijack a couple of military aircraft and turn L.A. into a full-fledged war zone. Eventually, the Organization takes complete control over California, and then, the pogroms doth begin:
Most Blacks moved along the streets leading into the designated areas a block or two ahead of the slowly advancing infantry, who made quick searches of each building as they came abreast of it. Blacks who had not already vacated the premises were roughly driven into the streets at bayonet point. If they put up any resistance at all they were shot on the spot, and the sound of this occasional gunfire helped to keep the other Blacks moving along.
Of course, the author doesn’t pick up just the slightest taste of hypocrisy/irony when calling contemporary statism totalitarian. And just wait ‘til you read the passage about blacks resorting to cannibalism!
Next up, the motherfucking DAY OF THE ROPE is described. And if that has an air of bizarre familiarity to it, trust me, it ought to. Anyway, the “Day of the Rope” is the fateful evening all of the leftist academics and race-mixers were butchered by our freedom-loving, non-coercive, anti-statist protagonists.
The first thing I saw in the moonlight was the placard with its legend in large, block letters: ‘I defiled my race.’ Above the placard leered the horribly bloated, purplish face of a young woman, her eyes wide open and bulging, her mouth agape. Finally I could make out the thin, vertical line of rope disappearing into the branches above. Apparently the rope had slipped a bit or the branch to which it was tied had sagged, until the woman's feet were resting on the pavement, giving the uncanny appearance of a corpse standing upright of its own volition. I shuddered and quickly went on my way. There are many thousands of hanging female corpses like that in this city tonight, all wearing identical placards around their necks. They are the White women who were married to or living with Blacks, with Jews, or with other non-White males.
The author than describes how the Organization developed the Department of Public Resources, Utilities, Services and Transportation, because logically, the first thing any group of anti-bureaucrats would want to do is set up an entirely new bureaucracy. Then, they start driving nukes to Washington and New York, to blow up a whole bunch of blacks and Jews.
About 20 million people get killed by a nuclear holocaust in Baltimore and NYC. Then, the USSR gets involved and Detroit, LA and Israel all get blasted by atomic hellfire. But the author reassures us: “Fortunately, the heaviest death toll in this country has been in the largest cities, which are substantially non-White.”
A few of the bit players get killed by black soldiers.
Katherine said nothing to the Black, but the icy look she gave him apparently injured his sense of ‘human dignity.’ He began the whining, ‘what's a matter, baby, don' you like Black people?’ approach that Blacks have found works wonders with guilt-ridden, liberal White girls who are desperately afraid of being considered ‘racists’ if they reject the unwelcome advances of rutting Black bucks. When Katherine tried to get out the shop door carrying two heavy suitcases, the amorous Black blocked her way and tried to run his hand under her dress.
Because nothing really beats typifying the cultural other as vicious savages after the “heroes” modeled after yourself just instigated nuclear Armageddon!
Earl then preps for a suicide mission on the Pentagon, stating he’s not worried about being detected since most of the staff is black, and therefore incompetent. To quote the great David Chappelle: “this racism is killing me inside!”
We then get to the book’s epilogue, which tells us that the Jews were globally “expunged” and “white Europe” had been liberated by U.S. forces. The author cheerily describes what happened to half of humanity after China attempted to invade Russia:
The Organization resorted to a combination of chemical, biological, and radiological means, on an enormous scale, to deal with the problem. Over a period of four years some 16 million square miles of the earth's surface, from the Ural Mountains to the Pacific and from the Arctic Ocean to the Indian Ocean, were effectively sterilized. Thus was the Great Eastern Waste created.
And now that a good ninety percent of the human race has been exterminated, we come to the book’s big, fat, insanely prejudicial happy ending:
He helped greatly to assure that his race would survive and prosper, that the Organization would achieve its worldwide political and military goals, and that the Order would spread its wise and benevolent rule over the earth for all time to come.
…yes, because “benevolent” is PRECISELY the term I would use to describe the ideology of this book, for sure.
I’m not quite sure how to conclude an analysis of this one, because its contents not only thoroughly explain itself, but critique the ever-loving hell out of it at the same time. As non-fiction devoid of ideological overtones, it’s really, really shitty, and as a polemic, it’s among the worst ever penned. It makes “Protocols of the Elders of Zion” read like Malcolm X’s autobiography, and makes “Camp of the Saints” look like Tolstoy’s cheeriest by comparison.
“The Turner Diaries” has been trashed and decried for decades now, allegedly serving as the inspiration for several high-profile anti-statist terror incidents, including the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing. The SPLC calls it the “bible of the racist right,” and next to perhaps something like “Hitman” or one of the myriad “how-to-commit-suicide” books out there, it’s probably the novel most frequently challenged by moral guardians over the last half century.
For a work this turgid, criticism just doesn’t suffice. The fact that it exists is its own worst commentary, a mirror of Pierce’s own homicidal insanity -- this is the same guy that dedicated another racially-charged novel to a man who killed mixed race couples, after all.
Alas, all good things (and horrifically racist ones, too) most come to an end, and Pierce caught his in 2002. His racist organization wound up ceasing operations last year, and considering today’s “multicultural uber alles” idealism, it’s a safe bet to say that old Willie boy would be none-too-pleased with today’s pan-racial utopia. Dude never even got to see Obama get elected, which, to be fair, probably would’ve killed him all over again.
Should you read “The Turner Diaries?” Eh, you can, but it’s a waste of time. It’s everything you think it would be, only written in a far shoddier manner. It’s hate-filled and hypocritical and almost slobbering- insane at times, and even at a scant 140 pages or so, grinding through it as an absolute chore.
Beyond the controversial content, there’s nothing really of note here. Yeah, it’s an astoundingly racist tract, but it’s also an astoundingly boring tome as well. Shock only goes so far, and I’m afraid “The Turner Diaries” carries little more than a slight perverse jolt before deteriorating into absolutely stultifying monotony.