Closure: The Covid Years
This piece was written and posted elsewhere earlier this year. It’s the perspective of a right wing, traditionalist and race-realist person. I was involved with the Canadian freedom movement, an amorphous popular resistance to covid medical tyranny, as well as globalism and its elements within the Canadian government, but this writing is more personal than about that movement as a whole. I do make some thoughts known, but criticism of the freedom movement is not my purpose here. I’m leaving the location blank, to protect the identities of other people and myself, but the context is a moderately sized regional city surrounded by country-side:
The process of writing this provided most of the closure I was looking for, but it seemed a waste to not post it here after finishing it.
I am trying to move on from the last three years of my life spent fighting the Covid agenda, globalism and the poz. I’m not leaving or writing my fair-well post. I’m just trying to encapsulate the parts of my experience that I am still grappling with.
A number of my experiences don’t conform to any particular ideology. They are what happened in my life and I want to say them in writing before I move on in my heart.
My Real Friends:
My friends during the covid years were not who I imagined they would be. I, somewhat naively, imagined being in the company of roughly spoken political dissidents, young men, blue collar men, and veterans. The reality of who I could work with and saw value in was very different.
There were three people who I felt particularly close to and who I valued greatly in what they did.
X became my friend and integral to the real life meet ups that I organized. He took a lot of risks and put skin the game to build a network of functional people with me. No small challenge when we could only do the most cursory vetting before meetings. X is a mature, white man of smaller stature. He’s gay and lives with his partner. He’s of a conservative and conspiracy oriented temperament. He has an intense mental energy and we had great enjoyment discussing the train-wreck unfolding before us.
I met Y at one of the first meet ups I hosted. She’s been an endless source of realist positivity and stability. She automatically became an admin or center of gravity in any of the small local online groups just because she is reasonable, likeable and not a push-over. She’s my friend and very much helped to keep me sane through those years. She’s a woman of middle age and a divorced mother. She’s mixed white and first nations, just enough to notice.
I met Z through my political activities. In some ways he and I are the most alike, but also the most different. We are intellectually and temperamentally similar, but he’s still much more invested in the mainstream system. He wants to return to conservative politics of history, whereas I want to destroy the globalist cabal. He’s the furthest thing from a revolutionary you can imagine, but he’s hyper-competent, organized, and slightly autistic. He deserves more recognition than I think it’s likely he’ll ever get for what he’s helped to build.
Other significant figures
There was a very brave and well spoken, but not always wise, woman who was probably the most significant single figure in my region for organizing protests and mass gatherings. This largely seemed to be the case because she was energetic and likable and her boyfriend at the time had a big sound system for events and was really handy. She was kind to me and I will always remember that.
There are several older liberal and hippy women who were very significant in organizing mass events. They’re still organizing events, even though there is almost no one to come to them anymore.
These were not the kind of people I had imagined being with, but they were some of the most important people to me who really showed up and created worthwhile things that lasted. I can’t say if this work came to any meaningful end, but at the time it was clear where my energy needed to be.
There were blue collar men who gave greatly and invested themselves, particularly when there was something tangible and specific that needed to be done. The recognition for the kinds of work that would never have happened without them can’t be over stated. But, outside of those specific aims I did find there was a drop off with these men. They wanted results now and were not as interested in building something to last beyond the current action.
I had many ex-Canadian Forces friends. Most of them were good people, but I was ultimately disappointed by what I saw in that demographic in my personal experience. Lots of ego. Lots of bluster. Very little organization beyond the individual level. Very little interest in building anything broader. Veterans 4 Freedom and what I saw in Ottawa was an absolute exception to this lack of organization and they were great.
The ex-forces in my region mostly spent their time bunkering down with family or aimlessly shooting-the-shit with ex-forces buddies. They were always good to me and welcoming, but they were often paranoid and nonconstructive for group actions. In my region they had difficulty creating anything lasting. Some of the veterans pressed cases against the military for vax discrimination. I respect that.
I suspect there are a lot of veterans groups that did a lot better than the people in my region, but this is what I experienced and know quite well.
Other random demographics. Of the hundreds of people that attended freedom events in my central city, region, all but a handful were white. There were a handful of East Asians who attended. Two black men and a black woman and her kids attended events. One middle eastern family, as well. All of the significant figures were white, or mixed in the case of my friend Y and a few others. I will note that groups of East Asians were the most likely people to jeer or yell at us in mass protests or gatherings. There were plenty of white maskies unhappy with us, but it was the East Asians (mostly Chinese) who were disproportionately upset at us.
The only pedophile I’ve met in real life:
Toward the end of the covid years my family rekindled a friendship with another family we had known many years before. We both opposed lock downs and globalism. We knew that the father of the other family had experienced some kind of legal trouble and spent about a year in prison, but that was after we lost touch and a couple of decades before this reunion. I assumed the father of the family had been in a fight or done something wrong, but forgivable. It was my error to not investigate. I should have been more curious or suspicious, but I had literally known these people since I was a small child and they had been kind and good to me.
In reality the father of the family had molested their young daughters. Some of the daughters I had played with when we were both children. The wife had discovered her husband’s crime, but protected him for fear of ruining their family financially, socially, and possibly for religious reasons as well, but I don’t want to pretend I understand. Just as bad, the elders of their devout Christian community protected the father, hid the truth and used prayer as treatment. It was only later the legal authorities found out and he spent a small amount of time in prison.
I am not Christian, but I sometimes whitewash traditional religion and the past because of the overt evil present with us today. I had come to view this family as, in some ways, an ideal because they had raised many seemingly functional, successful children and had a working farm where they could produce food, and were generally very talented and capable. Finding out about the father’s proclivities and that the mother and the community had covered for him destroyed something for me. The reality is that no matter how far in the past the crime occurred, I would have to restrain myself from putting a bullet in his head if I ever saw him again. I don’t believe there is forgiveness for acts like that in this life. There’s just death to protect the community and children.
Pedophilia is, in a way, the cardinal crime I place at the feet of the current rulers and one of the reasons I hate them with such passion. The people I saw as allies and, in a way, paragons, were actually the only ones I know personally who committed or abetted that hellish crime. That just killed something for me. Their church elders afforded them a cloak of silence that protected them and further endangered their children.
It’s clear to me that whatever I would call myself is communicated in blood rather than faith. It’s not lost on me that, by another private account, this temptation for infant girls ran in the husbands line of the family and had repeated itself before in his male ancestors. It’s popular in our circles to describe sexual deviation being communicated down the generations through abuse, but take it as a matter of reason, and my belief, that there is no separation between the spirit and the blood.
I do not blame Christians in general for what happened in that Christian community, but my tolerance for moral condescension over religious matters has diminished sharply. I met a number of friendly, helpful Christians who I would call my good friends, particularly in the People’s Party of Canada. With that said, most were only interested in other Christians, for understandable reasons.
There is no Freedom Movement:
The “freedom movement“ is only a cross section of divergent people who have temporarily aligned interests. This doesn’t make us false, but we are not one people. To those more pragmatic than myself this may seem self evident. To the more inspirational it may sound defeatist. I simple think it is true, though it is not what I wanted to be true.
If the covid restrictions were in full force tomorrow I think most of us would be back together protesting and fighting, possible with many new voices, but we are many different groups that walk together for a common purpose and because we do not fit in with the current order. In times of laxity and ease we slip away to our own pursuits. This is natural, but it reveals the reality of what we are.
The Role of Mental Illness:
A lot of freedom movement people are not mentally well. It is a rare trait to be able to go against the entirety of society. One of the paths to that trait is mental illness. Most were not mentally ill, but it’s something I see a lot of people trying to cover over instead of accurately portraying reality.
There is the man who stood in my living room and said I wasn’t a real man because I expressed some doubt in his ideas that we were still living under the Roman Empire. He expounded that we could be free of society by understanding the correct legal precedents and became incensed when I gently disagreed with that idea. I thought I might have to remove him physical, but it didn’t come to that.
There were the conversations with grown, non-combat, ex-military men who can’t get out of their home because of anxiety.
There were the conversations with men who needed to be talked down because they thought they were being followed, or about to be killed by shadowy agents.
There were the false prophets. As I left Ottawa as the convoy was breaking up I was told by a man in the most fervent and matter of fact terms that it was clearly ordained in biblical prophecy that the government would be changed within in a month and that within a year the tribulations would begin and after much hardship things would get better.
Having these experiences lead me to enhance values I already held. I value spiritual and mental strength, endurance, stability and mildness far above physical aptitude, size, ferocity and strength. A physically weak person will often struggle, but they will actually be there helping. A strong person who is completely absent is useless. If they are unstable you will wish they hadn’t shown up. Rightwing circles often fetishize physical fitness. I know that has become a hilarious joke in the media who say exercise is white supremacy. I would rather the circles I follow cared slightly less about physical fitness and much more about not being maladjusted, paranoid and unable to function in hierarchies or work with anyone.
Things I got wrong:
No measure of closure would be complete without explicitly acknowledging what I was wrong about.
I thought the MRNA injections would have more immediate effects. I have no idea what the real long term effects will be. Probably not good, but I believed the effects would be much worse by now. Though fertility seems to have been affected in a very significant way and a lot of injury and excess death has occurred, most of the normal people I speak to do not care at all. Things look normal to them, and this view will continue for a time.
I believed the global elites were pulling a much bigger trigger for global control than they were in reality. I never thought they could just appear to back off and have public life return to superficial normality. I truly believed we would be fighting for our lives because I could not imagine how they could put their policies and rhetoric back in the box.
I thought supply lines and financial markets would be affected much more than they have been. I could have just ate chips and watched TV and been just fine, as most people did.
Escaping the Ghetto:
I feel the freedom community tends to turn into an ineffectual ghetto. If it were a real clan I wouldn’t be upset about that, but I don’t think it works as more then a social pressure valve.
I saw a lot of people going through divorces and separating during the covid years. I saw only one example of a couple forming during the whole time. It was not an inspiring union to me. I helped to introduce and build relationships between a lot of people, but there isn’t a single romantic or family relationship that originated out of that. Perhaps that is a bad metric, but it rings clearly in my mind. The movement I was a part of was an after-image, of other, more real things.
I’m Not a Conservative:
I’m not a conservative in the true sense. I have come to value tradition, but in my nature I am excessive in creativity and originality. A number of experiences in the last five years awakened the conservative moral pillars within my psyche, but the expression of that in me doesn’t align with conservatism as expressed in the West.
I view myself as an expression of an eternal spiritual being, but also an expression of the biological person I was born as in this life, a part of the bio-spirit and inheritance of my people, family and culture. That is completely irreplaceable and is a responsibility that can’t ever be set down or abandoned until I die.
No matter how much I value tradition, I view myself as standing outside of my time and place. I have an obligation to my family and history, but my spiritual calling has very little to do with an organic extension of that.
I am as likely to contemplate a science fictional future as I am a return to a proto-indo-european nomad society. None of that is very conservative, though all of it is inspired by tradition. Neither is intensely practical to the necessities of everyday life here and now.
Where I’m going:
I need to find a way to live in the communities of people who actually exist around me. I’m not sure how to do that because I don’t see them forming the kind of bonds I look for, based on long trust and fealty. I’ve always felt things too intensely and people either see that as coldness, as I keep my thoughts from them, or don’t understand why I can’t just go along to get along.
I view having a family as one of the most significant things I could contribute. That seems beyond what I can achieve with goodness at this point in my life, but it is my aim. Achieving that means focusing on my own life more and less on movements, but I’m not very good at that.
“Valiant dust that builds on dust.” Is a line from my favorite Kipling poem. It refers to faith in material power, abrogating humility and devotion to eternal things. I feel like I’ve been doing that in a way that isn’t good.
I want to return to focusing on a spiritual part of my life, but I don’t know how to do that. Before the current chapter of my life, I was essentially a free-lance councilor for a number of years. I stopped doing that for a lot of reasons, but one of the big ones was the realization that most of the people I was trying to help didn’t need anything I could give them. They needed better paying jobs. They needed less stress and better food. They needed control of their addictions and coping mechanisms.
I probably won't return to being a councilor in particular, but broadly, I’ve been willingly setting aside my own path in life because I didn’t see it as what was needed. After going through the last three and a half years I wouldn’t change the choices I made and I don’t want abandon what I’ve learned, but I do want to return to who I am, in a way.
Whether we fought or commiserated. Whether you think of me as a friend or an enemy… It all meant an awful lot me.