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Unless correspondents ask us not to, this Website will post selected letters that it receives and invite open debate. |
Mel
Fowler
of Santa Maria,
California, writes Saturday, April 14, 2001
Image
below added by this website:
1959: David Irving worked his way through
University, working in John Laing concrete
gang building the Physics Building at
Imperial College, London
Buruma's Blood Libel
IAN Buruma in his review of Richard Evans' book Lying About Hitler and as usual titled Blood Libel (The New Yorker, April 16 2001), repeated many of the old smears against David Irving as concocted by the usual International Jewish propaganda organs.
With his own personal venom he has manufactured a fresh amalgam depicting Irving, no longer as a well dressed holocaust denier, but now as a bitter suburban working class lowbrow whose work is motivated primarily by class jealousy.
He attempts to paint Irving as a man who, because of his humble means, is somehow less English than Buruma himself and perhaps even less so than the rogues' gallery of Jewish "Anglophiles" that Buruma elsewhere celebrates in his writings -- as if they were somehow the de facto inheritors of the British class structure, if not the inheritors, in some perverted way, of being British in and of itself.
One can't help but see in this endeavor to create a new and improved defamation of Irving (which runs simultaneously to similar venom peddled by Jacob Heilbrunn for The National Review), the similarity to the repetitious theorizing and pseudo-psychoanalysis that has been used to for decades by Jewish interests to demonize in a sneeringly classist sense, Hitler. He too was from humble means. For instance, there is the tale that Hitler became who he was as the result of his intense jealousy of a certain Jewish middle school classmate who, of course, being Hitler's superior in every way, sent young Adolph into such fits that he had to, years later, write Mein Kampf, and to plot the destruction of all the Jews of the world.
But what is clear from a foray into the journalistic world of Buruma is that he himself could more fittingly be cast as one who is pathologically obsessed with Anglophilia or at least his own peculiar brand of it, and is likely the archetypal jealous admirer from afar of the British upper class and in fact, though he'd never admit it, of the British racial stock.
In his book Anglomania, a dutiful token to the Jewish insinuationist establishment, those who like Ashley Montague, change their Jewish names to appear more flamboyantly British, Buruma half confesses and half brags of his own background,
"of his snobbishly bourgeois, childhood spent cricket-watching and club-tie-wearing, of his Hague neighborhood with an English mother and visits to Berkshire-based grandparents"
indeed, of all the superficial fixations that a self-conscious imposter would cultivate to appear well connected. He goes on to laud the alleged Anglophilia of a host of infamous Internationalist Jews, such as Karl Marx, Theodor Herzl and the likes of Nikolaus Pevsner and Isaiah Berlin. And, as if to rehabilitate his dubious gathering of vengeful Talmudists and West-hating miscreants, he first positions the Western cultural icon,
"Voltaire [as] the ultimate Anglophile: liberal, humorous, enlightened, and ultimately humane".
Apparently, to Buruma, David Irving's crime is not
Anglophilia which, with its possible manifestations of
liberalism, snobbery and xenophobia, is forgivable if you
are a Jewish Zionist hob-nobbing in Britain, or at least
Voltaire, but his crime is that of being of British stock
and more so, for better or worse, being proud of that
fact. 
Irving
oft shares with his public the fact that, for instance,
he paid his own way through university working in
construction (right).
Something Buruma, with his transparent pretensions of
class, no doubt looks down upon.
The fact that Irving is a self-made man who eschewed the cloistered academic establishment and broke new ground in WWII history, not without the endorsement of honored historians, is what really motivates the slit-eyed hatred of toadies like Evans and Lipstadt. Perhaps Buruma, instead of sneering at Irving's alleged lack of a properly elitist private schooling, would allow us to chuckle at his charming Anglophilic eccentricity if Irving were a Jewish immigrant and therefore a proper English gentleman, like, say, Theodor Herzl, whose
"vision of a Jewish state [was] based on his admiration of the English aristocracy"
as Buruma asserts in his book, Anglomania.
Buruma's contempt for Irving is not unlike his xenophobic view of Germans, or what he mockingly calls "the German Problem", that is a view, as Buruma admits, that is " prompted by [his] associations that are hard to shake off for anyone who was spoon-fed with Nazi demons."
He goes on to exemplify this phenomenon; he writes:
"Living in Berlin some years ago, I used to sit in my room transfixed by live television broadcasts, mostly from Bavaria, of beery folk festivals, where men and women in feathered hats linked their arms, stamped their feet, and bellowed their songs, while other men, bursting out of leather shorts, made fat, farting noises through gleaming brass instruments. The sweating red faces, the thick, hairy legs, the aggressive stomping rhythms: these were just a bunch of Bavarians having innocent fun, but I thought of Nazis kicking their victims. One tries to suppress such associations, telling oneself they are unfair, and yet they keep rising to the surface. Demons, even second-hand ones, are not put down so easily. Perhaps it is the confessional Pietist tradition that turns so many Germans, young and old, into gibbering flagellants when someone comes along to tell them that they have extermination in the blood."
Buruma's Goldhagenesque hatred of Germans as "having extermination in the blood" is in part explainable when one realizes that as a paid asset of the post war anti-axis propaganda mill or, generally speaking, the Jewish controlled Western liberal media, he was by protocol "spoon-fed with Nazi demons". Also telling is his slander of the Japanese that is no less lurid. Books like The Wages of Guilt: Memories of War in Germany and Japan and Behind the Mask: On Sexual Demons, Sacred Mothers, Transvestites, Gangsters, Drifters, and Other Japanese Cultural Heroes by the titles themselves reveal a preoccupation with, or should we say, an occupation of, the losers of WWII.
One also wonders; could the odd sexual fixation in his writings on Japan be related to the fact that he is married to a Japanese woman?
Another sign of Buruma's not so subtle role as a Spielbergesque propagandist is his quote "Hollywood makes history real." In his paid position in the Jewish propaganda establishment, the crown jewel of which is Hollywood, Buruma's quote reveals nothing less than an anti-historical view. To myth-making supremacists, historians are mere toadies or they are smear-fodder. Is it no wonder that people like Evans and Lipstadt require people like Buruma to convince a spoon-fed, magazine browsing public that they are the true historians and that voluminous writers like Irving are imposters?
In his writing with the weird title, The Joys and Perils of Victimhood, Buruma coins the term the "Olympics of suffering" showing that he is ready to compete with a growing portion of the publishing racket for the Gold medal in tastelessness by exploiting suffering for monetary gain.
One thing that is for certain is that the defamation of David Irving as a racist and anti-Semite by Charles Gray's perverted judgment has been modified in favor of even more contemptible cheap shots amid them accusations that he is not a privileged, or for that matter, a Jewish, enough racist or xenophobe to be considered a proper Englishman.
That an obvious social climber like Buruma, who is only half English, if that, considers himself a leading authority on who is and who is not British today is hysterical and shows the absurd lengths to which the Traditional Enemies, and yes, Buruma, the Jewish fraudsters, will go to hang on to their subversive investment in the mass indoctrination of the West.
DAVID
IRVING writes:
IT occurs to me that Mr Buruma appears to have derived most of his material for The New Yorker from secondary sources. Compare how long his "research" took with the twenty-seven years I have taken to produce Churchill�s War, vol. ii! Here are the entries in my diary.
February 16, 2001 (Friday)
2:23 pm Ian Buruma of The New Yorker phoned, has been asked by them to write a long piece on the Trial, will come Monday 2 p.m.
February 19, 2001 (Monday)
2 p.m. visit from Ian Buruma of New Yorker to interview me on the Lipstadt case etc; a rather aimless, disjointed interview, shorter than he needed. What is he up to? He left at 3:35 p.m.
David Irving