As the flow of migrants across the Channel intensifies, and our anguished mainstream media and political establishment debates the humanitarian dimension of the crisis, (31 dead today in the Channel) considering, for example, how we might speed up their processing, or whether we could let them work and ‘contribute’ while they await processing, one relevant detail is, as usual, omitted. The indigenous population does not want an influx of people, overwhelmingly Muslim, who do not share our culture, have no intention of integrating into our society, and are basically here to colonise us. Like indigenous peoples all round the world, the English share a preference for their own culture and kind. They are appalled at the unparalleled demographic and cultural change they see happening around them, the ‘great replacement’ of the English in towns and cities across our country, all engineered in the name of multiculturalism and diversity.
Yet the real test is yet to come. It is only surprising that it has taken so long. Jean Raspail foretold it in his prophetic 1973 novel The Camp of the Saints. What if, instead of hundreds of dinghies, an armada of decrepit ships arrives off our shores carrying a million destitute people fleeing poverty and starvation in the Third World. And what if countless other such fleets are massing to make the same journey, just waiting to hear how the first fleet has fared, an inexhaustible reservoir of humanity to draw on.
The challenge for the West, then, is which instinct will prevail: the humanitarian liberal instinct, which dreams of a multicultural utopia, or the conservative instinct, which recognises that two thousand years of Western civilization is at stake. Or to put it in cruder terms, as Raspail’s protagonists do, welcome the migrants with open arms as brothers or gun them down on the beaches.
In Raspail’s novel, it is the humanitarian instinct that prevails, fuelled by self-flagellating post-colonial guilt, and the floodgates are opened. The novel’s dramatic opening scene encapsulates it all, the old professor, guardian of an ancient civilization, living in an ancestral Provencal house, confronted by a young activist arrived to welcome the ‘million Christs’ who have just arrived off the Cote d’Azur and to loot the house in the name of the oppressed and suffering. The professor calmly pulls out a shotgun and kills the young man, before laying out a feast of fine food and wine, a final celebration, ‘an act of love’ for the inheritance which the invading hordes are about to destroy.
Of course, the migrants are not the cause of the problem. Who can blame them? The root of the problem is that we in the West no longer believe in our own civilization. Many of us loathe it and would see it destroyed, even though we are more than happy to enjoy the privileges and benefits it offers. In later years, Raspail was not optimistic about whether this pathological condition, this ‘aggravated utopian humanism’, could be treated. He even mused privately (a public formulation would have required lawyers to be consulted beforehand) on the possibility of some form of reconquest.
Either way, we have seen nothing yet.