It is undoubtedly "racist" to note and differentiate between race and nationality on a genetic basis when it comes to the Homosapien species, but it seems when the same definitions apply to wildlife it is quite acceptable to speak of the preserving of the purity a particular genotype. Recently it has been reported that the Scottish Wildcat has as little as two years before they are effectively wiped out of existence, mainly through interbreeding with breeds of domestic Cats, and there is an effort amongst conservationists to save the Wildcat from extinction. A noble cause indeed.
The original article about the Wildcat can be found here.
So I presume there will be those who read this and wonder how does the European people come into a story about Wildcat extinction. Well the strange thing is that there are many aspects of this which echo the plight of the indigenous peoples of Europe, except most liberals will fail to see this or will straight out contradict the truths of science over political correctness.
It is a well documented fact that the White Europeans will become a minority in much of Europe before the end of this century, and probably cease to exist at all in the next two or three centuries. The same of course probably applies to many other groups of people who are either emigrating out of an area, or who are also receiving large numbers of migrants themselves. This is just one of the many negative effects of globalisation. Needless to say however that it is predominately white nations to which most of the Third World and Middle East currently flock to.
So where does the Wildcat analogy come in?
That is simple. There is a fine line between race and species. To say that a white man and a black man are completely equal is an insult to nature and its ability to adapt to its environment. It should not be racist to say that generally speaking, Africans can run faster than Europeans, or that Europeans can swim faster than Africans, or that generally speaking those from the Far East have greater IQ's than those from the rest of the world. Yes, they are stereotypes, but stereotypes can only exist after a realisation of trends. There are intrinsically different physical and biological differences between us documented by simple analysis of the world around us and common sense.
The liberals 'perfect family'.
So, taking this on board there is no difference biologically speaking with the plight of the Scottish Wildcat being bred out of existence by invading domestic cats and white Europeans being outbred by Muslims who have three times as many children, or by the mainstream media which puts out the message that mixed race families are superior or some sort of fashion statement.
Why is it therefore acceptable to say to 'racists' that race is simply a social construct, that it doesn't exist, that the 'melting pot' is a good thing, when there is clearly a desire and noble cause to save sub-species such as the Wildcat from extinction. Despite what this BBC article has said the Wildcat population will live on in the genes passed on to its young when interbreeding with domestic cats, so why this concern for these wild animals, and not the concern for the European man and woman which like the Wildcat is facing utter destruction at the hands of encroachment into its home environment.
But of course, I'm just a racist Wildcat supremacist...
So continuing on from Part One on this slow and methodical dissection of H G Wells novel, 'The Sleeper Awakes', I shall continue post haste. I've been putting off continuing on with this because it is so heavy-going, and every time you re-read bits you find yourself finding more connections which you previously hadn't considered. If you haven't already read part one, then please go back to that first or this is going to make no sense to you whatsoever. Ok, here we go again for round two!
Chapter 10 & 11
In this chapter, our charecter Graham finds himself caught up in a huge battle between the oppressed working-class and the world council and their security teams. Now up until this point I hadn't noted the police forces, but essentially Wells makes a point in his novel of making a distinction between white police/army who wear a red uniform, and 'negro' police/army forces who wear black and yellow stripes as a uniform.
(Ok, I'm not actually suggesting this awful record is in anyway connected, lol.) The battle comes to blows with the revolutionaries taking huge casualties because the security forces deliberately cut the lights out in the city (all lighting in the city is seemingly artificial.) In the confusion Graham manages to get away to a quiet residential district where in the next chapter he has a long conversation with an elderly gentleman who seems to understand the world more than anyone else. One of the most interesting points raised by the old man is the following:
"No,"
said Graham, wondering what Babble Machine might be. "And you
are certain this Ostrog -- you are certain Ostrog organised this
rebellion and arranged for the waking of the Sleeper? Just to assert
himself -- because he was not elected to the Council?
"Everyone
knows that, I should think," said the old man. "Except --
just fools.
Basically, in this chapter we understand that Ostrog's rebellion has nothing to do with the rights of the every day person but has more to do with the fact that he was not elected to be apart of the twelve man council. It was Ostrog who awoke Graham with drugs in order to use him politically, in order to stir up the population to act in a way that he wanted.
The following passage said by the old man though is perhaps the most true thing ever said in a work of fiction, read this next passage carefully and think who might be this council today:
"Eh! --
but you're not up to things. Money attracts money -- and twelve
brains are better than one. They played it cleverly. They worked
politics with money, and kept on adding to the money by working
currency and tariffs. They grew -- they grew. And for years the
twelve trustees hid the growing of the Sleeper's estate, under double
names and company titles and all that. The Council spread by title
deed, mortgage, share, every political party, every newspaper, they
bought. If you listen to the old stories you will see the Council
growing and growing Billions and billions of lions at last -- the
Sleeper's estate. And all growing out of a whim -- out of this
Warming's will, and an accident to Isbister's sons.
The council then are what we may today see as globalist bankers, and perhaps to name and shame, Zionism. Who in today's world uses vast amounts of money to sway political opinion, works financial institutions around to suit their own, and owns vast media empires? Zionist Jews, that's who, and their helper monkeys around the globe supporting gross globalisation who fuck their own kinsmen over in the process.
This paragraph said by the old man leads me to personally believe that the 'sleeper' in the financial sense in this book is actually you and I. In other words, the general public which works, takes loans, makes investments and generally uses the financial institutions. If we were all aware of how our own money, how our own labour, was being hijacked, used and manipulated by the most powerful people in the world, we would realise our place as being the true masters. But we aren't, or at least we collectively prefer to remain silent and allow our labours to be leeched off of.
Chapter 12
Another sign of the times, when the uprising occurs the rebellion is ill-armed when compared with the 'red police', which tends to suggest that the worlds population has been without proper warfare or access to weaponry for some considerable time.
"That
is the flag of the Council -- the flag of the Rule of the World. It
will fall. The fight is over. Their attack on the theatre was their
last frantic struggle. They have only a thousand men or so, and some
of these men will be disloyal. They have little ammunition. And we
are reviving the ancient arts. We are casting guns."
The above paragraph seems toshow that to have any chance of ousting a unwanted leadership, you need to build and store weapons to do it.
Chapter 13
With the defeat of the 'red police' and the twelve man council, Graham is expected to give a speech on a balcony overlooking the vast crowds from the 'council' building. Look however at this rather interesting few paragraphs:
The western
sky was a pallid bluish green, and Jupiter shone high in the south,
before the capitulation was accomplished. Above was a slow insensible
change, the advance of night serene and beautiful; below was hurry,
excitement, conflicting orders, pauses, spasmodic developments of
organisation, a vast ascending clamour and confusion. Before the
Council came out, toiling perspiring men, directed by a conflict of
shouts, carried forth hundreds of those who had perished in the
hand-to-hand conflict within those long passages and chambers.
"The
Master, the Master! God and the Master," shouted the people."
To hell with the Council!" Graham looked at their multitudes,
receding beyond counting into a shouting haze, and then at Ostrog
beside him, white and steadfast and still. His eye went again to the
little group of White Councillors. And then he looked up at the
familiar quiet stars overhead. The marvellous element in his fate was
suddenly vivid. Could that be his indeed, that little life in his
memory two hundred years gone by -- and this as well?
I've highlighted perhaps one of the most revealing points in all of this. Ostrog, the man who the people believe is leading them to freedom from oppresion is using Graham as a way of controlling the masses to do much worse than the twelve man council ever intended. Graham at this point believes that he is to be supreme leader, and the people do too. The highlighted segment above refers to the bizarre inclusion of the description of the night sky displaying Jupiter 'high in the south'.
Consider that they are in the hall of Atlas, with the statue holding 'the globe' (Uranus) and he just happens to look up and pay particular attention to Jupiter in the nights sky...
Again, Atlas with Uranus equates to ultimate achievement of mankind, high attainment or of man gaining god-like status.
Jupiter in the occult and astrology circles equates to deeper thought and knowledge, the third eye, dimensions and unsurprisingly wealth. These things will come obvious in a few chapters time, but try to realise that these two symbols together come together to create what could be an occultists ideal symbolic interpretation of ultimate attainment of human development.
Chapter 14
There is too much to write on when evalualting this chapter. Far too much rings true today when we look back at history that it is quite worrying. The only thing which Wells got completely wrong was the idea that the technology of flight would be held back, but don't forget this book was probably written before the Wright brothers had displayed their heavier-than-air contraption, flight at the time before the big break through was like our current predicament with finding inter-planetary transport for humans.
Wielding an enormous influence and patronage, the Council had early
assumed a political aspect; and in its development it had continually
used its wealth to tip the beam of political decisions and its political
advantages to grasp yet more and more wealth. At last the party
organisations of two hemispheres were in its hands; it became an inner
council of political control. Its last struggle was with the tacit
alliance of the great Jewish families. But these families were linked
only by a feeble sentiment, at any time inheritance might fling a huge
fragment of their resources to a minor, a woman or a fool, marriages and
legacies alienated hundreds of thousands at one blow. The Council had
no such breach in its continuity. Steadily, steadfastly it grew. The original Council was not simply twelve men of exceptional
ability; they fused, it was a council of genius. It struck boldly for
riches, for political influence, and the two subserved each other. With
amazing foresight it spent great sums of money on the art of flying,
holding that invention back against an hour foreseen. It used the patent
laws, and a thousand half-legal expedients, to hamper all investigators
who refused to work with it. In the old days it never missed a capable
man. It paid his price. Its policy in those days was vigorous --
unerring, and against it as it grew steadily and incessantly was only
the chaotic selfish rule of the casually rich. In a hundred years Graham
had become almost exclusive owner of Africa, of South America, of
France, of London, of England and all its influence -- for all practical
purposes, that is -- a power in North America -- then the dominant
power in America. The Council bought and organised China, drilled Asia,
crippled the Old World empires, undermined them financially, fought and
defeated them. And this spreading usurpation of the world was so dexterously
performed -- a proteus -- hundreds of banks, companies, syndicates,
masked the Council's operations -- that it was already far advanced
before common men suspected the tyranny that had come. The Council never
hesitated, never faltered. Means of communication, land, buildings,
governments, municipalities, the territorial companies of the tropics,
every human enterprise, it gathered greedily. And it drilled and
marshalled its men, its railway police, its roadway police, its house
guards, and drain and cable guards, its hosts of land-workers. Their
unions it did not fight, but it undermined and betrayed and bought them.
It bought the world at last. And, finally, its culminating stroke was
the introduction of flying.
I'll let the reader gauge the prophecy of the above few paragraphs.
Chapter 15
In this chapter Graham is at a private function whereby all the 'important' people like the mayors, priests, government advisers and film directors etc all meet to suck up to each other. Whilst this is interesting from the perspective that today's society is taught to respect the 'celebrity' class, there isn't too much going on in this chapter save for the discussion on education which highlights very well what todays 'education' is like today. "About the public elementary schools," said Graham. "Do you control them?" The Surveyor-General did, "entirely." Now, Graham, in his later
democratic days, had taken a keen interest in these and his questioning
quickened. Certain casual phrases that had fallen from the old man with
whom he had talked in the darkness recurred to him. The
Surveyor-General, in effect, endorsed the old man's words. "We have
abolished Cram," he said, a phrase Graham was beginning to interpret as
the abolition of all sustained work. The Surveyor-General became
sentimental. "We try and make the elementary schools very pleasant for
the little children. They will have to work so soon. Just a few simple
principles -- obedience -- industry." "You teach them very little?" "Why should we? It only leads to trouble and discontent. We amuse
them. Even as it is -- there are troubles -- agitations. Where the
labourers get the ideas, one cannot tell. They tell one another. There
are socialistic dreams -- anarchy even! Agitators will get to work among
them. I take it -- I have always taken it -- that my foremost duty is
to fight against popular discontent. Why should people be made unhappy?" Essentially teach the lower-class kids a load of shit to humour them and to ensure they can at least fulfill basic employment duties and try discredit any child or any one who speaks out about or works out what is really going on.
Chapter 16
It was this part of the book which originally made me go back and re-read this novel because of its compelling resemblance of the final proposed intentions of the UN's agenda 21:
That gradual
passage of town into country through an extensive sponge of suburbs,
which was so characteristic a feature of the great cities of the
nineteenth century, existed no longer. Nothing remained of it but a
waste of ruins here, variegated and dense with thickets of the
heterogeneous growths that had once adorned the gardens of the belt,
interspersed among levelled brown patches of sown ground, and verdant
stretches of winter greens. The latter even spread among the vestiges
of houses. But for the most part the reefs and skerries of ruins, the
wreckage of suburban villas, stood among their streets and roads,
queer islands amidst the levelled expanses of green and brown,
abandoned indeed by the inhabitants years since, but too substantial,
it seemed', to be cleared out of the way of the wholesale
horticultural mechanisms of the time.
The vegetation of this waste undulated and frothed
amidst the countless cells of crumbling house walls, and broke along
the foot of the city wall in a surf of bramble and holly and ivy and
teazle and tall grasses. Here and there gaudy pleasure palaces
towered amidst the puny remains of Victorian times, and cable ways
slanted to them from the city. That winter day they seemed deserted.
Deserted, too, were the artificial gardens among the ruins. The city
limits were indeed as sharply defined as in the ancient days when the
gates were shut at nightfall and the robber foreman prowled to the
very walls. A huge semi-circular throat poured out a vigorous traffic
upon the Eadhamite Bath Road. So the first prospect of the world
beyond the city flashed on Graham, and dwindled. And when at last he
could look vertically downward again, he saw below him the vegetable
fields of the Thames valley -- innumerable minute oblongs of ruddy
brown, intersected by shining threads, the sewage ditches.
The speak of a world where everyone is forced to live in a huge walled city state with the countryside abandoned save for some automated agriculture is not too dissimilar from various futurist movements (like The Venus Project) and some of the plans laid out for America in the long term, with residents expected to be bullied out of the country and into cities.
Chapter 18
In chapter 18, Graham is approached by a young woman who begins to really tell him how shit life is for the average working class citizen after Graham has buried his head in the sand by taking up flying as a hobby whilst leaving Ostrog to run the world in his stead.
She turned a
flushed face upon him, moving suddenly. "Your days were the days
of freedom. Yes -- I have thought. I have been made to think, for my
life -- has not been happy. Men are no longer free -- no greater, no
better than the men of your time. That is not all. This city -- is a
prison. Every city now is a prison. Mammon grips the key in his hand.
Myriads, countless myriads, toil from the cradle to the grave. Is
that right? Is that to be -- for ever? Yes, far worse than in your
time. All about us, beneath us, sorrow and pain. All the shallow
delight of such life as you find about you, is separated by just a
little from a life of wretchedness beyond any telling Yes, the poor
know it -- they know they suffer. These countless multitudes who
faced death for you two nights since -- ! You owe your life to
them."
Up until this point the reader has been more or less been lead to assume that the every day person lives a fantastic life when compared with Victorian living standards, but this girl turns this view on its head.
She continues:
"You
come," she said, "from the days when this new tyranny of
the cities was scarcely beginning. It is a tyranny -- a tyranny. In
your days the feudal war lords had gone, and the new lordship of
wealth had still to come. Half the men in the world still lived out
upon the free countryside. The cities had still to devour them. I
have heard the stories out of the old books -- there was nobility!
Common men led lives of love and faithfulness then -- they did a
thousand things. And you -- you come from that time."
Again, in the grand scheme of things, things probably were at its best for people in the 1910's up until the 1950's, if of course you take out of consideration the two world wars. When you consider the stereotypical lifestyle of a late Victorian age farm labourer with a working class man from twenty-teens, the difference is astounding. Yes the poor man from Victorian times might have worked bloody hard for his small wage, but there was community, freedom. Back then you had everything you needed and nothing you wanted. Now we have everything we want, and very little of what we need.
"They
are the slaves -- your slaves. They are the slaves of the Labour
Company you own."
"The Labour Company! In some way -- that is
familiar. Ah! now I remember. I saw it when I was wandering about the
city, after the lights returned, great fronts of buildings coloured
pale blue. Do you really mean -- ?"
"Yes. How can I explain it to you? Of course
the blue uniform struck you. Nearly a third of our people wear it --
more assume it now every day. This Labour Company has grown
imperceptibly."
"What is this Labour Company?" asked
Graham.
"In the old times, how did you manage with
starving people?"
"There was the workhouse -- which the
parishes maintained."
"Workhouse! Yes -- there was something. In
our history lessons. I remember now. The Labour Company ousted the
workhouse. It grew -- partly -- out of something -- you, perhaps, may
remember it -- an emotional religious organisation called the
Salvation Army -- that became a business company. In the first place
it was almost a charity. To save people from workhouse rigours. Now I
come to think of it, it was one of the earliest properties your
Trustees acquired. They bought the Salvation Army and reconstructed
it as this. The idea in the first place was to give work to starving
homeless people."
"Yes."
"Nowadays there are no workhouses, no refuges
and charities, nothing but that Company. Its offices are everywhere.
That blue is its colour. And any man, woman or child who comes to be
hungry and weary and with neither home nor friend nor resort, must go
to the Company in the end -- or seek some way of death. The Euthanasy
is beyond their means -- for the poor there is no easy death. And at
any hour in the day or night there is food, shelter and a blue
uniform for all comers -- that is the first condition of the Company
s incorporation -- and in return for a day's shelter the Company
extracts a day's work, and then returns the visitor's proper clothing
and sends him or her out again."
"Yes?"
"Perhaps that does not seem so terrible to
you. In your days men starved in your streets. That was bad. But they
died -- men. These people in blue -- . The proverb runs: 'Blue canvas
once and ever.' The Company trades in their labour, and it has taken
care to assure itself of the supply. People come to it starving and
helpless -- they eat and sleep for a night and day, they -work for a
day, and at the end of the day they go out again. If they have worked
well they have a penny or so -- enough for a theatre or a cheap
dancing place, or a kinematograph story, or a dinner or a bet. They
wander about after that is spent. Begging is prevented by the police
of the ways. Besides, no one gives. They come back again the next day
or the day after -- brought back by the same incapacity that brought
them first. At last their proper clothing wears out, or their rags
get so shabby that they are ashamed. Then they must work for months
to get fresh. If they want fresh. A great number of children are born
under the Company's care. The mother owes them a month thereafter --
the children they cherish and educate until they are fourteen, and
they pay two years' service. You may be sure these children are
educated for the blue canvas. And so it is the Company works."
These last few paragraghs at first glimpse appear to be nothing like the kind of society we now find ourselves but actually in a roundabout way rather are. If we are to accept that the people in power engineered minimum wage and social welfare as a way of keeping society in check, rather than the state taking up the noble role of protector you get the conclusion that instead our own homes and jobs have become a part of the workhouse. Minimum wage is slavery, and society no longer requires the slaves to live in slave accommodation, the slave works better if he is lead to believe he is free.
Chapter 19
Chapter 19 gives us the shocker. Graham goes to Ostrog, this figure who is running the world in Grahams name, the man who is supposedly the working mans savior to confront him about why nothing has been done with the terrible working and living conditions.
"Must
the world go this way?" said Graham, with his emotions at the
speaking point. "Must it indeed go in this way? Have all our
hopes been vain?"
"What do you mean?" said Ostrog.
"Hopes?"
"I came from a democratic age. And I find an
aristocratic tyranny!"
"Well, -- but you are the chief tyrant."
Graham shook his head.
"Well," said Ostrog, "take the
general question. It is the way that change has always travelled.
Aristocracy, the prevalence of the best -- the suffering and
extinction of the unfit, and so to better things."
"But aristocracy! those people I met --"
"Oh! not those!" said Ostrog. "But
for the most part they go to their death. Vice and pleasure! They
have no children. That sort of stuff will die out. If the world keeps
to one road, that is, if there is no turning back. An easy road to
excess, convenient Euthanasia for the pleasure seekers singed in the
flame, that is the way to improve the race!"
This above pretty much highlights the opinion and world view of the self proclaimed 'elite' and eugenicists. As Wells was in these same sort of circles and believed in the principles of 'survival of the fittest', it is my belief that this chapter actually reflects a duality of character within Wells. On the one side there was this part of him which felt the need to support what was morally right, and on the other, the pull to do what felt was logically right.
Put into perspective with the earlier talk of 'dreaming' and of different states of consciousness it is not completely radical to believe that this conversation is actually internally within the authors own head, or that Ostrog is Wells in his adulthood speaking internally with his more youthful and idealistic self.
This conversation continues:
"Don't
you trouble about these things," he said. Everything will be
settled in a few days now. The Crowd is a huge foolish beast. What if
it does not die out? Even if it does not die, it can still be tamed
and driven. I have no sympathy with servile men. You heard those
people shouting and singing two nights ago. They were taught that
song. If you had taken any man there in cold blood and asked why he
shouted, he could not have told you. They think they are shouting for
you, that they are loyal and devoted to you. Just then they were
ready to slaughter the Council. To-day -- they are already murmuring
against those who have overthrown the Council."
"No,
no," said Graham. "They shouted because their lives were
dreary, without joy or pride, and because in me -- in me --
they hoped."
"And what was their hope? What is their hope?
What right have they to hope? They work ill and they want the reward
of those who work well. The hope of mankind -- what is it? That some
day the Over-man may come, that some day the inferior, the weak and
the bestial may be subdued or eliminated. Subdued if not eliminated.
The world is no place for the bad, the stupid, the enervated. Their
duty -- it's a fine duty too! -- is to die. The death of the failure!
That is the path by which the beast rose to manhood, by which man
goes on to higher things."
Ostrog took a pace, seemed to think, and turned on
Graham. "I can imagine how this great world state of ours seems
to a Victorian Englishman. You regret all the old forms of
representative government -- their spectres still haunt the world,
the voting councils and parliaments and all that eighteenth century
tomfoolery You feel moved against our Pleasure Cities. I might have
thought of that, -- had I not been busy. But you will learn better.
The people are mad with envy -- they would be in sympathy with you.
Even in the streets now, they clamour to destroy the Pleasure Cities.
But the Pleasure Cities are the excretory organs of the State,
attractive places that year after year draw together all that is weak
and vicious, all that is lascivious and lazy, all the easy roguery of
the world, to a graceful destruction. They go there, they have their
time, they die childless, all the pretty silly lascivious women die
childless, and mankind is the better. If the people were sane they
would not envy the rich their way of death. And you would emancipate
the silly brainless workers that we have enslaved, and try to make
their lives easy and pleasant again. Just as they have sunk to what
they are fit for. "He smiled a smile that irritated Graham
oddly. "You will learn better. I know those ideas; in my boyhood
I read your Shelley and dreamt of Liberty. There is no liberty, save
wisdom and self control. Liberty is within -- not without. It is each
man's own affair. Suppose -- which is impossible -- that these
swarming yelping fools in blue get the upper hand of us, what then?
They will only fall to other masters. So long as there are sheep
Nature will insist on beasts of prey. It would mean but a few hundred
years' delay. The coming of the aristocrat is fatal and assured. The
end will be the Over-man -- for all the mad protests of humanity. Let
them revolt, let them win and kill me and my like. Others will arise
-- other masters. The end will be the same."
And you think this view of society isn't shared by the people in power?
At the same time, Ostrog is preparing for yet more civil unrest, this time directed at himself after he has done nothing to change the status-quo for ordinary people (not that he had ever intended on doing so if you read the last few paragraphs.) What is interesting is that he intends on bringing in the yellow and black clad 'negro police' to quell the next rebellion.
Graham, the more deliberately judicial for the stirring emotions he
felt, asked if there had been any fighting. "A little," said Ostrog. "In
one quarter only. But the Senegalese division of our African
agricultural police -- the Consolidated African Companies have a very
well drilled police -- was ready, and so were the aeroplanes. We
expected a little trouble in the continental cities, and in America. But
things are very quiet in America. They are satisfied with the overthrow
of the Council For the time."
"Why should you expect trouble?" asked Graham abruptly. "There is a lot of discontent -- social discontent." "The Labour Company?" "You are learning," said Ostrog with a touch of surprise. "Yes. It is
chiefly the discontent with the Labour Company. It was that discontent
supplied the motive force of this overthrow -- that and your awakening." "Yes?" Ostrog smiled. He became explicit. "We had to stir up their
discontent, we had to revive the old ideals of universal happiness --
all men equal -- all men happy -- no luxury that everyone may not share
-- ideas that have slumbered for two hundred years. You know that? We
had to revive these ideals, impossible as they are -- in order to
overthrow the Council. And now --" "Well?" "Our revolution is accomplished, and the Council is overthrown, and
people whom we have stirred up remain surging. There was scarcely enough
fighting . . . We made promises, of course. It is extraordinary how
violently and rapidly this vague out-of-date humanitarianism has revived
and spread. We who sowed the seed even, have been astonished. In Paris,
as I say -- we have had to call in a little external help." "And here?" "There is trouble. Multitudes will not go back to work. There is a
general strike. Half the factories are empty and the people are swarming
in the Ways. They are talking of a Commune. Men in silk and satin have
been insulted in the streets. The blue canvas is expecting all sorts of
things from you.... Of course there is no need for you to trouble. We
are setting the Babble Machines to work with counter suggestions in the
cause of law and order. We must keep the grip tight; that is all." Graham thought. He perceived a way of asserting himself. But he spoke with restraint. "Even to the pitch of bringing a negro police," he said.
"They are useful," said Ostrog. "They are fine loyal brutes, with no
wash of ideas in their heads -- such as our rabble has. The Council
should have had them as police of the Ways, and things might have been
different.
After this long conversation, Graham tries to assert his power as 'king' of the world by saying he does not want any negroes in London. "I have been thinking about these negroes. I don't believe the people
intend any hostility to me, and, after all, I am the Master. I do not
want any negroes brought to London. It is an archaic prejudice perhaps,
but I have peculiar feelings about Europeans and the subject races. Even
about Paris --" Ostrog stood watching him from under his drooping brows." I am not bringing negroes to London," he said slowly." But if --" "You are not to bring armed negroes to London, whatever happens," said Graham. "In that matter I am quite decided." Ostrog, after a pause, decided not to speak, and bowed deferentially.
Chapter 20 - 23
Towards the end of the novel, Graham who decides that he ought to help with the plight of the everyday man goes out to live with the lower-classes in disguise. It is only towards the end that Graham realises that Ostrog uses Grahams absence as a way to try and overthrow and take ultimate power by the use of the negroid police.
He rushes back to the hall of Atlas to confront Ostrog.
They had scarcely advanced ten paces from the curtain before a little
panel to the left of the Atlas rolled up, and Ostrog, accompanied by
Lincoln and followed by two black and yellow clad negroes, appeared
crossing the remote corner of the hall, towards a second panel that was
raised and open. "Ostrog," shouted Graham, and at the sound of his voice
the little party turned astonished. Ostrog said something to Lincoln and advanced alone. Graham was the first to speak. His voice was loud and dictatorial.
"What is this I hear?" he asked. "Are you bringing negroes here -- to
keep the people down?" "It is none too soon," said Ostrog. "They have been getting out of hand more and more, since the revolt. I under-estimated --" "Do you mean that these infernal negroes are on the way?" "On the way. As it is, you have seen the people -- outside?" "No wonder! But -- after what was said. You have taken too much on yourself, Ostrog." Ostrog said nothing, but drew nearer. "These negroes must not come to London," said Graham. "I am Master and they shall not come." Ostrog glanced at Lincoln, who at once came towards them with his two attendants close behind him. "Why not?" asked Ostrog. "White men must be mastered by white men. Besides --" "The negroes are only an instrument." "But that is not the question. I am the Master. I mean to be the Master. And I tell you these negroes shall not come." "The people --" "I believe in the people." "Because you are an anachronism. You are a man out of the Past -- an
accident. You are Owner perhaps of half the property in the world. But
you are not Master. You do not know enough to be Master." He glanced at Lincoln again. "I know now what you think -- I can
guess something of what you mean to do. Even now it is not too late to
warn you. You dream of human equality -- of a socialistic order -- you have all
those worn-out dreams of the nineteenth century fresh and vivid in your
mind, and you would rule this age that you do not understand." "Listen!" said Graham. "You can hear it -- a sound like the sea. Not voices -- but a voice. Do you altogether understand?" "We taught them that," said Ostrog. "Perhaps. Can you teach them to forget it? But enough of this! These negroes must not come." There was a pause and Ostrog looked him in the eyes. "They will," he said. "I forbid it," said Graham. "They have started." "I will not have it." "No," said Ostrog. "Sorry as I am to follow the method of the Council
-- . For your own good -- you must not side with disorder. And now that
you are here -- . It was kind of you to come here." Lincoln laid his hand on Graham's shoulder. Abruptly Graham realized
the enormity of his blunder in coming to the Council House. He turned
towards the curtains that separated the hall from the antechamber. The
clutching hand of Asano intervened. In another moment Lincoln had
grasped Graham's cloak.
Betrayed, there is a scuffle and eventually Ostrog gets away on an aircraft, the novel ends with Graham in pursuit of Ostrog in his own craft which he crashes and ends up killing himself. Essentially then, if my theory on this story of Graham and Ostrog being different dualities inside Wells psyche, the survivor is the eugenicist elitist Wells, and not the humanist Victorian we came to respect throughout the novel.
But what is most interesting in the last parts of this story is the use of ethnic minorities to quell the crowd. I'm not suggesting that Western nations are going to start hiring black mercenaries to defend the elite, but think what multiculturalism has done in Western society and how it has completely destroyed our individual national sovereignty and cultural expressions. When Ostrog says that the negroes are 'just a tool', I don't think it is complete coincidence that it is also forced mass-migration which has brought about our own societies to a state of collapse and fragmentation. This fragmentation has prevented and continues to prevent working class unity, and it will continue to do so. Whilst they have the slaves all sitting at home blaming each other for various ailments of society, the ones who stand to benefit from the situation get away with it scott free, and those are without question our globalist banking friends in the happy zionist family.
Now think back to when we saw Jupiter in the hall of Atlas, an occultist representation of high consciousness combined with ultimate human attainment. It was when Graham had been formally recognized as King, but at that point he was completely unaware that he was being betrayed and lied to by Ostrog who he trusted, and the secret society which he represented.
So putting this all together, I would say that Wells saw the best way of human development going forward was for the people to trust and believe in a gullible front man who he himself believes he holds power, who in reality really leaves all the decision making to a logical, eugenics inspired secretive bunch who operate behind the scenes. In truth there was not much different in terms of Government between the original council of twelve and Ostrog's final Governmental approach except in as much as that the people allowed themselves to be duped and believed they had a choice.
And that pretty much sums up everything about the modern world. This whole book pretty much represents the modern world today, whether or not I'm right about the occult links or not.
Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed reading this, I' am aware I've probably made a few mistakes but I think you'll agree that this is extremely heavy going and a colossal mind fuck.
Please leave any comments at the bottom, I'd be really interested to know peoples feedback.
I've just about had it with Google. This corporation which, like Facebook, data mines everything about a person and steals passwords and information from unsecured wireless networks (and gets away with it relatively Scott free) is now making demands that the general public be prevented from owning drones (RC Planes with cameras on, essentially.) Yes, that's right. A corporation which takes aerial photos of your garden without your permission and makes them accessible on the internet, not to mention Google street view, doesn't want you to be able to fly a small aircraft around over your neighbors in case it breaches someones privacy. He also warns the technology could be used by 'terrorists' (read resistance cells against the coming fully autonomous military.) You couldn't make this shit up!
Planes such as this are typical of the home made FPV RC planes in existence.
So in this latest Google corporate fuck over, Google chief Eric Schmidt is calling for Governments to regulate ownership of devices which could be used as drones. If you are unaware, in the last few years civilian ownership of remote control planes and helicopters that are flown through cameras in real time (so essentially you feel as though you are really flying) are becoming very popular. They are used for multiple different purposes from aerial photographers to sheep farmers looking for lost sheep, and they are relatively cheap and easy to make with materials found online. I wrote an article on this last year: (http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3264003180989549681#editor/target=post;postID=2870208040734108609) In the above article I highlighted some of the practical uses they could be put to, and it seems I'm not the only one to have considered this. They could be used to fly over protests to film the police to ensure civil liberties are not breached and fly reconnaissance in a SHTF situation for defence or hunting. Put bluntly, they don't want any 'terrorist' (read freedom fighter) from having any upper hand on the forces set against us.
This has nothing to do with privacy, and everything to prevent the tool being used in a uprising.
Long title for a blog article I know, but bare with me as this is going to be a long one.
Some years back I read this book titled 'The Sleeper Awakes' by H G Wells and considered at the time when I young and naive that it was merely a science fiction story which had somehow managed to get some minor details correct. Some of the finer details written in this book have stuck in my mind over the years and it wasn't until I began reading up on Agenda 21 that I really began to think back to it. Well, as my memory isn't the best I thought I might have found some tedious anecdotal links with this novel and what appears to be going on at a international level at the moment, however when I did re-read this story I was shocked at just how spot on this novel was with on-going trends which are happening right now. So before I begin, I suppose it is important to detail who H G Wells was: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H._G._Wells In short, he was a novelist who essentially wrote propaganda for eugenics and the promotion of the formation of a world state. He was friends with the kinds of folk who thought of themselves as elite in the wake of the Darwinist philosophy typical for that period, and therefore when you read some of his other works such as 'War of the Worlds' where he justifies the culling of millions in order to make a fresh start on a "Brave New World", then its easy to see retrospectively that these books were not simply entertainment, they are meant to be a message to be digested by the public who then accept it as feasible. In any case, if I told you he left the Fabian society because he thought they weren't radical enough, you can kind of judge this guys rabid extremity.
Now, this book "The Sleeper Awakes" is a relatively short one, but due to the amount of prophetic accuracies, I've managed to take down way more notes than I am likely to be able to share in fear of losing peoples interest. For this reason, I will try and keep this article as short as possible and let the reader ponder my observations without too much explanation on my part. If you have the time I suggest you read this book yourself for free here: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Sleeper_Awakes The general storyline is that someone who is plagued by insomnia and is considering suicide happens across a stranger on a beach. The stranger takes the man to his house and gives him something to help him sleep, except he overdoses and slips into a coma whereby he remains asleep for two-hundred years. He awakes in the future to discover that because of interest, he is the richest man in the world. The people are kept dumbed in giant cities and are kept in forced labour. I will try and go through chapter by chapter, this way if you are reading the book on Wikisource you can read the entirety of the chapter yourself and see whether you agree with me, but otherwise please take my word for it that these quotations are present.
Chapter 1:
The
insomniac man named Graham is helped in Chapter 1 by a man simply
named 'Isbister'. The setting takes place in Cornwall in
Boscastle (near where the pagan museum exists today), on a beach with a cave system called
'Pentargen' (pentagon) and then mull about 'Blackapit' which may have
links to neolithic settlements. Interestingly, Isbister is also the
name of a neolithic (pagan) settlement in Orkney. This of course could be coincidence,
however.
I was originally interested by the name Isbister because it sounds similar to
Aleister (Crowley) given the evidence that they may have met around the time this book was written, and I wonder whether Wells was approached by Crowley and given some kind of psychedelic drug which enabled him to experience prophetic visions.
(Evidence that Crowley and H G Wells met around the 1910 time frame:
It also mentions later on in the chapter that Isbister, this bloke who assists Graham the insomniac, is an artist who paints coastal scenes in the area. Well, again, this could be coincidental but Crowley was also a known painter and seems to have enjoyed painting coastal landscapes:
The area around this time period and up to the present day has long been associated with paganism, especially with the Boscastle Museum of Witchcraft being present in the area, and 'Blackapit' (mentioned in Well's novel) was used later on by Cecil Williamson for Magickal practices who had links with the English cunning craft, Wicca and Magickal communities which flourished throughout the 1950's (who once again was a personal friend of Crowley and Gerald Gardner.)
As I'm sure anyone who knows Crowley will tell you, he was heavily into drugs, especially for magickal purposes, and this character Isbister takes Graham back to his house and tries to get the insomniac comfortable whereby we have this quote:
Then he bent
still lower to look up at his visitor's face. He started violently
and uttered an exclamation. The eyes were void spaces of white.
He looked again and saw that they were open and
with the pupils rolled under the lids. He was suddenly afraid.
Overcome by the strangeness of the man's condition, he took him by
the shoulder and shook him. "Are you asleep?" he said, with
his voice jumping into alto, and again, "Are you asleep?"
If that doesn't sound like a drug overdose I don't know what does.
Chapter 2:
The second chapter merely sets up the reader so that he or she may understand how someone who lives for a very long time might earn a considerable sum of money out of it. In 1910 the currency in Britain and the world in general was still backed by precious materials, so we are led to the explanation of FIAT currency and major inflation that comes with it throughout the chapter.
"It
has," said Warming. "And now the gold supplies are running
short there is a tendency towards . . . appreciation."
This chapter also allows a third person perspective of 'Graham', which turns out to be almost definately a representation of Wells himself.
"He was
a man of considerable gifts, but spasmodic, emotional. He had grave
domestic troubles, divorced his wife, in fact, and it was as a relief
from that, I think, that he took up politics of the rabid sort. He
was a fanatical Radical -- a Socialist -- or typical Liberal, as they
used to call themselves,-of the advanced school. Energetic -- flighty
-- undisciplined. Overwork upon a controversy did this for him. I
remember the pamphlet he wrote -- a curious production. Wild,
whirling stuff. There were one or two prophecies. Some of them are
already exploded, some of them are established facts. But for the
most part to read such a thesis is to realise how full the world is
of unanticipated things. He will have much to learn, much to unlearn,
when he wakes. If ever a waking comes."
Read into Wells political and personal life and you will find that the above passage is with no uncertaintyhimself.
Chapter 3:
In this chapter, we are informed about his awakening two hundred years in the future, except Wells description of simply a sleep is somewhat weird and leads me to believe, again, that this book was actually some kind of vision seen through a combination of Magickal ritual and drug taking.
But Warming
was wrong in that. An awakening came.
What a
wonderfully complex thing! this simple seeming unity -- the
self! Who can trace its reintegration as morning after morning we
awaken, the flux and confluence of its countless factors
interweaving, rebuilding, the dim first stirrings of the soul, the
growth and synthesis of the unconscious to the subconscious, the
sub-conscious to dawning consciousness, until at last we recognise
ourselves again. And as it happens to most of us after the night's
sleep, so it was with Graham at the end of his vast slumber. A dim
cloud of sensation taking shape, a cloudy dreariness, and he found
himself vaguely somewhere, recumbent, faint, but alive.
The pilgrimage towards a personal being seemed to
traverse vast gulfs, to occupy epochs. Gigantic
dreams that were terrible realities at the
time, left vague perplexing memories, strange creatures, strange
scenery, as if from another planet. There was a distinct impression,
too, of a momentous conversation, of a name -- he could not tell what
name -- that was subsequently to recur, of some queer long-forgotten
sensation of vein and muscle, of a feeling of vast hopeless effort,
the effort of a man near drowning in darkness. Then came a panorama
of dazzling unstable confluent scenes.
I could be completely off the mark here, but what Wells describes in this passage above, sounds very much like the kind of astral/multi-dimensional experiences which are now more associated with DMT taking/ astral travel. In any case, the talk of feeling like you are on another world with strange creatures and the feeling of a conversation in your own mind fit incredibly well with experiences written down by not only Crowley but others too such as John Dee and thousands of 'astral travellers' you hear of today. The seeming inane chatter about consciousness and subconsciousness also seem to indicate that this is no simple conventional 'awakening'. This awakening is something all together bigger than that.
The other thing to consider in this chapter is that the room in which Graham finds himself in is like that of a clean, ornament-less room, somewhat evoking of the kinds of futurist styling we are shown today as being the future of decor and architecture, (but we'll hear a lot more about architecture in a short while.)
Chapter 4:
There is some mental technological prophecy in this chapter which given that this book is over a hundred years old now has been one hundred per cent accurate on our innovations.
Graham
lifted his arm and was astonished to find what strength the
restoratives had given him. He thrust one leg over the side of the
couch and then the other. His head no longer swam. He could scarcely
credit his rapid recovery. He sat feeling his limbs.
The man with the flaxen beard re-entered from the
archway, and as he did so the cage of a lift came sliding down in
front of the thickset man, and a lean, grey-bearded man, carrying a
roll, and wearing a tightly-fitting costume of dark green, appeared
therein.
"This is the tailor," said the thickset
man with an introductory gesture." It will never do for you to
wear that black. I cannot understand how it got here. But I shall. I
shall. You will be as rapid as possible?" he said to the tailor.
The man in green bowed, and, advancing, seated
himself by Graham on the bed. His manner was calm, but his eyes were
full of curiosity. "You will find the fashions altered, Sire,"
he said. He glanced from under his brows at the thickset man.
He opened the roller with a quick movement, and a
confusion of brilliant fabrics poured out over his knees. "You
lived, Sire, in a period essentially cylindrical -- the Victorian.
With a tendency to the hemisphere in hats. Circular curves always.
Now --" He flicked out a little appliance the size and
appearance of a keyless watch, whirled the knob, and behold -- a
little figure in white appeared kinetoscope fashion on the dial,
walking and turning. The tailor caught up a pattern of bluish white
satin. "That is my conception of your immediate treatment,"
he said.
The thickset man came and stood by the shoulder of
Graham.
"We have very little time," he said.
"Trust me," said the tailor. "My
machine follows. What do you think of this?"
"What is that?" asked the man from the
nineteenth century.
"In your days they showed you a
fashion-plate," said the tailor," but this is our modern
development See here." The little figure repeated its
evolutions, but in a different costume. "Or this," and with
a click another small figure in a more voluminous type of robe
marched on to the dial. The tailor was very quick in his movements,
and glanced twice towards the lift as he did these things.
It rumbled again, and a crop-haired anaemic lad
with features of the Chinese type, clad in coarse pale blue canvas,
appeared together with a complicated machine, which he pushed
noiselessly on little castors into the room. Incontinently the little
kinetoscope was dropped, Graham was invited to stand in front of the
machine and the tailor muttered some instructions to the crop-haired
lad, who answered in guttural tones and with words Graham did not
recognise. The boy then went to conduct an incomprehensible monologue
in the corner, and the tailor pulled out a number of slotted arms
terminating in little discs, pulling them out until the discs were
flat against the body of Graham, one at each shoulder blade, one at
the elbows, one at the neck and so forth, so that at last there were,
perhaps, two score of them upon his body and limbs. At the same time,
some other person entered the room by the lift, behind Graham. The
tailor set moving a mechanism that initiated a faint-sounding
rhythmic movement of parts in the machine, and in another moment he
was knocking up the levers and Graham was released. The tailor
replaced his cloak of black, and the man with the flaxen beard
proffered him a little glass of some refreshing fluid. Graham saw
over the rim of the glass a pale-faced young man regarding him with a
singular fixity.
Notice the tailor has a hand sized 'Kinetoscope' which automatically measures up our main character and shows him how he will look in different clothes. A Kinetoscope by the way is just a moving screen. Now think to yourself, is it really that far off that we might have an Ipad or smartphone with a 'tailor app' which could perhaps use 3D cameras in order to create a complete measurement of a person for garments which could then be made by a machine (like 3D printers which are taking off at the moment) within minutes? No, that technology is up and coming right now, let alone in another hundred years. Another important thing to note here is that Graham is clothed in purple, a colour which is heavily associated with magick, ritual and the travel into other realms.
I just find it almost impossible that a man living in Victorian England could have possibly have predicted architectural advancement and trends so incredibly accurately.
Chapter 6:
Again, futurist city design somehow accurately predicted by the existence of giant wind farms built on top of the city:
Graham
suddenly glanced up to see whence he came, and beheld through the
glassy roof and the network of cables and girders, dim rhythmically
passing forms like the vans of windmills, and between them glimpses
of a remote and pallid sky. Then Howard had thrust him forward across
the bridge, and he was in a little narrow passage decorated with
geometrical patterns.
The most astounding aspect of this chapter however is when Graham meets the twelve members of the world council. Well obviously, anyone who has even the slightest understanding of religion understands how important the number twelve is here, with this character Graham technically being the supreme leader which makes these twelve his trustees (or read disciples.)
So where does he meet these twelve world leaders? Well, that is interesting too, as he meets them in the 'Chamber of Atlas', where lo and behold, in the councils main chamber, there sits a statue of Atlas holding up the sky (Uranus.) Atlas and Uranus together essentially signify the highest attainment or man, or having reached an almost God-like position (which echoes the wishes of the eugenic/Darwinist movement when it was written.)
If that doesn't strike you as even slightly dodgy, then read up on this movement which was made only five years before this novel was written and used Atlas as a symbol:
Objectivism - A movement defined not only with its support of free market captitalism but also with the obsession with reaching 'high attainment' and philosophical belief that reality and consciousness are intertwined. Obviously again, this can be linked back to magickal/ritual practice, eugenics and compound financial interest which seems to be the running theme throughout this book.
(A statue of Atlas also appears outside of the Rockefeller Center in New York which again links the financial aspects of this novel with philosophical reality of the worlds most powerful people - again, these same sorts of people like Rockefeller in the real world believe themselves above the rest of us which perhaps explains their complete disregard for wars and extreme poverty they allow to happen.)
Chapter 7
Again in this chapter, the seemingly innocent book about a time traveller turns out to be completely jam packed with more political and philosophical references. In this chapter, Graham is shoved into a room for a number of days (in a room which is incredibly detailed and once again seems entirely probable of future architecture and technology) and he comes across these 'books' which are held on small metal cylinders instead of on paper and ink. These books he comes across are:
(A book which politically seems very similar to 'The Sleeper Awakes' in how power is derived through stealth and deception, but also speaks of pagan masonic rituals, once again similar to Sleeper Awakes. It also speaks ill of imperialism, something which Wells was an opponent of.)
Written by Henry James who it seems Wells had issues with (Wells once publicly insulted him.) It seems as though from this novel, James' novels are the complete opposite world view, favoring the beauty in flawed existence and liberty. One of the less likeable charecters in this short novel may even be Wells.
In this chapter, Graham also comes across a flat screen television in his room which shows brain-numbing soap operas, and finds that promiscuous sexual activity is no longer frowned upon.
Chapter8:
Graham's rescuers come along, and we see more of the wind turbines. We do however get this strange sentence, which admittedly may be harmless, but given the themes of the book so far its unlikely: Graham had a surging vision of a great hall crowded with people. He saw
no individuals, he was conscious of a froth of pink faces, of waving arms
and garments, he felt the occult influence of a vast crowd pouring over
him, buoying him up.
If you do not believe anything occultist then this sentence will unlikely mean anything to you, however to those with a basic understanding of occult work will know that conscious observation and participation is as much to do with magickal works as is the ritual itself. So when he speaks of deriving occult influence from a vast crowd, this can be quite literal. Its well known for instance that when thousands of individuals are together, individuals cease to act like they usually would, as though a hive-mind overtakes them.
Again, I don't want to get too involved with major philosophical discussion here, but it could arguably explain the theories behind massive events, like 9/11, being mega-rituals, because to the individual they are unable to see the symbols and occult references but collectively it acts to create real change in the physical reality (essentially using the worlds collective conscious power against itself.)
Chapter 9:
Having been rescued, he is able to ask some questions for the first time which up to now have been left unsaid.
"Tell
me!" he cried. "Who am I? Who am I?"
The others came nearer to hear his words. "Who
am I?" His eyes searched their faces.
"They have told him nothing!" cried the
girl.
"Tell me, tell me!" cried Graham.
"You are the Master of the Earth. You are
owner of half the world."
He did not believe he heard aright. He resisted
the persuasion. He pretended not to understand, not to hear. He
lifted his voice again. "I have been awake three days -- a
prisoner three days. I judge there is some struggle between a number
of people in this city -- it is London?"
"Yes," said the younger man.
"And those who meet in the great hall with
the white Atlas? How does it concern me? In some way it has to do
with me. Why, I don't know. Drugs? It seems to me that while I have
slept the world has gone mad. I have gone mad."
"Who are those Councillors under the Atlas?
Why should they try to drug me?"
"To keep you insensible," said the man
in yellow.
"To prevent your interference."
"But why?"
"Because you are the Atlas, Sire,"
said the man in yellow. "The world is on your shoulders. They
rule it in your name."
The sounds from the hall had died into a silence
threaded by one monotonous voice. Now suddenly, trampling on these
last words, came a deafening tumult, a roaring and thundering, cheer
crowded on cheer, voices hoarse and shrill, beating, overlapping, and
while it lasted the people in the little room could not hear each
other shout.
Graham stood, his intelligence clinging helplessly
to the thing he had just heard. "The Council," he repeated
blankly, and then snatched at a name that had struck him. "But
who is Ostrog?" he said.
"He is the organiser -- the organiser of the
revolt. Our Leader -- in your name."
"In my name? -- And you? Why is he not here?"
"He -- has deputed us. I am his brother --
his half-brother, Lincoln. He wants you to show yourself to these
people and then come on to him. That is why he has sent. He is at the
wind-vane offices directing. The people are marching."
"In your name," shouted the younger man.
"They have ruled, crushed, tyrannised. At last even --"
"In my name! My name! Master?"
The younger man suddenly became audible in a pause
of the outer thunder, indignant and vociferous, a high penetrating
voice under his red aquiline nose and bushy moustache. "No one
expected you to wake. No one expected you to wake. They were cunning.
Damned tyrants! But they were taken by surprise. They did not know
whether to drug you, hypnotise you, kill you."
Again the hall dominated everything.
"Ostrog is at the wind-vane offices ready --
. Even now there is a rumour of fighting beginning."
So this is the first time we are introduced to Ostrog, where he is the leader of the resistance against the council, supposedly fighting for the good of all the workers. Ostrog, unsurprisingly means 'prison' in Russian. The revolution which starts in this chapter and goes on until the end is yet another surprising element because it predicts a dictatorship arising from the ongoing hostilities in Russia before the Soviets were even in full control of the country. (This book was written 1910, Soviets never came into power until 1917.)
It is undoubtedly "racist" to note and differentiate between race and nationality on a genetic basis when it comes to the Homosapien species, but it seems when the same definitions apply to wildlife it is quite acceptable to speak of the preserving of the purity a particular genotype. 
