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December 9, 2007

 

Race and Crime

Learning from Diversity, The Case for Expatriation

by Fred Reed

 

Again it happens. In Baltimore a young white woman boards a bus and wants to sit down. Each time she tries to take a seat she is told by nine black middle-schools students, ages 14 and 15, including three girls, that she can't. Finally she sits anyway. The little -- the middle-school students, I mean -- attack her.

From the Examiner, "She sustained 'serious injuries' and had to be transported to the University of Maryland Shock Trauma Center, according to a police report…[Sarah] Kreager suffered two broken bones in her left eye socket, police said. She had eye muscles that were damaged…She had deep lacerations on the top of her head and another above her neck." Her face will never be the same.

Life in the United States. Race relations as usual. Journalism as usual. I suppose you have been swamped, dear reader, by the national press coverage of this racial attack -- right? The outrage? You've heard about it over and over on the lobotomy box? Editorialists everywhere just won't let it rest? Sure.

Curious. Don Imus, apparently a radio jock of some sort, refers to a black women's basketball team as "nappy-headed hos." Rude, certainly, and unnecessary, but nothing more. It becomes national news and he loses his job. Blacks beat a white woman until her bones break and…near silence.

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of these attacks and of the animals that commit them. And I'm sick of the attitude of the press. But I'm doubtless alone in my sentiments. Right?

The headline in the WJZ account says, "Woman Attacked On Bus Placed In Witness Protection." Why? The only reason can be the expectation that blacks will try to kill her to prevent her from testifying against the attackers. Things are out of control.

The attack was not just a crime, but a particular type of crime. In Mexico, where I live, there is crime, but it is usually economic. If I walked in a bad part of Guadalajara by night with a Rolex on my arm, an enterprising gangster might well demand it at knifepoint. If I peaceably gave him the Rolex, he would likely just leave with it. It's about money. Yes, crimes of passion occur when men got boozed up and fight over women or which football team is best. These are easily avoided.

But when a group of very young blacks, unprovoked, attack a defenseless white women, with the intention of badly hurting her, break her bones, and then try to drag her off the bus, we see a different sort of crime. The only motive is racial hatred.

Crimes of this type are either increasingly common or increasingly visible because of the internet. They involve gang rapes of white women, forced humiliation as for example by being compelled to provide blow jobs in front of boyfriends, followed by murder. The press assiduously covers them up. The usual formulation is that "youths" were responsible or, very infrequently, "minority youths." A photo of the victims may appear, but not of the perpetrators. Press coverage will be as local as possible. On the web I recently saw television coverage of one such crime in Florida in which the reporteress kept the camera below the waists of those involved to avoid racial identification.

If the attackers were somehow anomalous, the occasional psychopath for example, the solution -- a reasonable response anyway -- would be to put them in prison forever and get on with life. But they are not anomalous. They are probably the norm among young blacks of the slums.

I don't think whites realize what is out there, how bad things are. If you live in Washington, DC, and work, say, on K Street or Connecticut Avenue, you see well-dressed and courteous blacks who are pretty much like everybody else. Much more resentment lies under the surface than you probably believe, but they certainly aren't going to attack anyone. They are not a problem.

But go into the realms of the underclass, the great sprawling necrotic Sowetos of any big American city. Better yet, don't go. You wouldn't last ten minutes on foot at night. Few whites really know that these places exist, and they never see them. Cabs will refuse to take you. For some half-dozen years when I was on the police beat I did see the bad neighborhoods. God help us.

These 'hoods are utterly black, with whipcord young males leaning against lamp posts and eyeing cops with hostility. The people in them have no identity other than black. They aren't African and aren't American. They don't read and many can't. The schools are just holding cages. They've got nothing and they're going nowhere and they know it. The great white beyond out there, with its computers and universities and those rich white people with their jobs and books and understanding of mysterious things like international politics -- they have no access to these.

They hate whites. I don't mean that they harbor class-mediated resentments deriving from incomplete socialization to the Euro-based norms of yada yada. I mean they hate whites. Or do you suppose that they beat a young woman into hospitalization from affection? To break bones in a woman's face you have to kick her or hit her very hard, hard enough to cause brain damage with a little luck, hard enough to kill. The ganging up is a pattern.

There is nothing whites can do about it except live away from blacks and be very careful about taking public transportation. It is not a good thing to find yourself at eleven at night in an otherwise empty subway car with your teenage daughter and five young blacks.

Fear of blacks chiefly drives the furor over the right to own guns. Conservatives don't want guns from fear that a Jewish dentist might crawl through the window at night. Liberals do not fear white duck-hunters or the white suburbanite with a pistol in his closet. It's arm against them, or disarm them, though few will admit it..

What will happen to the adolescent monsters in Baltimore? A good guess: They will be charged with assault, publicity will be minimal, they will face only minor consequences because they are juveniles, and a black jury (if things get that far) will give them a pass. Their classmates, if anything they see can be called a class, will regard them as heroes.

I wonder how long things can go on as they are. Nothing gets better. The murderous stewing hatred remains and given a chance will beat more women senseless or, sooner or later, burn another city. Winding this spring is not a good idea. If the worm ever turns, Katie bar the door.

Reed Archive


Copyright 2007 by Fred Reed and reproduced here by permission of the author.

About the Author (by the author):

Fred Reed is a Marine combat veteran, police reporter, amateur biochemist, former long-haul hitchhiker, and part-time sociopath living in Mexico. Fred, a keyboard mercenary with a disorganized past, has worked on staff for Army Times, The Washingtonian, Soldier of Fortune, Federal Computer Week, and The Washington Times. He has been published in Playboy, Soldier of Fortune, The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, Harper's, National Review, Signal, Air&Space, and suchlike. He has worked as a police writer, technology editor, military specialist, and authority on mercenary soldiers. He is by all accounts as looney as a tune.

Visit the "Fred on Everything" website to read his previous columns and sign up for his regular e-mail feature.

 

The essays in A Brass Pole in Bangkok, are sometimes wildly funny, sometimes deadly serious, always merciless in their unmasking of the pretenses and charlatans of society. Fred, a former Marine, subscribes to no ideology ("an ideology is just a systematic way of misunderstanding the world") but exuberantly wreaks havoc on practically everything, and delights in everything else: the psychotherapy swindle, squalling feminists, race racketeers, damn fool wars, red-light districts in Asia, and tequila fests in Mexico, where he lives.

A Brass Pole in Bangkok: A Thing I Aspire To Be, by Fred Reed

Buy Fred's new reprehensible book, Nekkid In Austin! Another collection of Fred's collected outrages, irresponsible ravings, and curmudgeonry from "Fred On Everything" and some innocent magazines that, he says, foolishly published him. Wildly funny, sometimes wacky, always provocative essays on the collapse of America.

Nekkid in Austin: Drop Your Inner Child Down a Well, by Fred Reed


Because The Radical Academy publishes essays and articles on its website does not imply acceptance or approval of the comments or opinions expressed by the author of the material. Nor is the Academy responsible for any misrepresentation of the facts included. It is your job to be a critical reader.


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