Our original sin is a sham

One of the West’s fundamental psychological derangements is almost never named and described for what it is. But this derangement is killing our once high-trust productive society.

It is this: The idea that being “racist” is the worst moral sin of all; that it is worse than rape or murder.

You want to challenge me, I know. You want to say, “No one actually believes that.”

You are wrong, and I am right. Yes, they do. Their actions-in contrast to their asserted claims-show that they do.

Americans particularly are so mired in this idea that they regularly make choices that put themselves and their children in danger of violence or anti-white discrimination (in job applications, college entrance, grant programs, etc.) simply to avoid being seen as, or to perceive themselves as “racist.”

So deep does this go that simply signaling to others that you acknowledge the objective, provable fact that crime by blacks against whites is massively disproportionate gets you accused of “racism.” Citing the objective fact that fatherlessness is the norm in black families (even more than whites, and we’ve got it too) and that it leads to predictable outcomes in criminality, sloth, and leeching off welfare, gets you accused of “racism.” No, no-it’s not the case that you can show the statistics to people and change their minds.

You cannot. If you can get them to accept the reality of the statistics (that’s dicey) they will STILL treat you as “racist” for citing the stats. Simply noticing a reality, even if it’s a reality that materially affects you or could hurt you, is itself “racist.” That is, it is The Most Immoral Thing and The Deepest Sin Conceivable.

Here’s how perverse it is: the act of acknowledging black people as fully human is not allowed.

I used to live under this moral delusion as a true believer. Let me tell you two anecdotes about how I used to think and behave.

Years ago I was in Georgia at a speaking gig. My hosts who gave me room and board were late middle-aged and retired white professionals. They gave me the tour-by-car that you give to out of towners who have never seen your city.

The lady driving the car noticed that the gas tank was on empty, and said she needed to find a gas station immediately. We slowed down near a convenience store gas station. The parking lot was filled with young black men wearing thug-rapper-bling attire.