Saturday, November 25, 2017

Confessions of a repentant white supremacist

When he thinks about white supremacy now, Brad Galloway sees a black hole.

It wasn’t always this way. For years, or about a third of his life, Galloway’s universe was defined by the colour of his skin. His whiteness was his identity, his greatest source of pride and his sole reason for living.

It’s why he joined “the movement,” as he calls it today. And why he shot up the white nationalist ranks like the mercury level on a thermometer in a pot of boiling water. It’s also why he lost his old friends and was nearly beaten to death.

But let’s back up to before he stomped around the Bathurst and Wilson shadows in a bomber jacket and steel-toed Dr. Martens. Let’s go back to before he was the leader of a hate group and an eager racist.

Before all of that, Galloway was just a normal Canadian kid.

He went to school in North York and played hockey, soccer and basketball. He had friends and, later, girlfriends. He wore nice clothes and fell asleep each night with a full belly. His middle class home was not just unbroken — it didn’t even have a crack.

“I like to always say that membership in these groups is not limited to impoverished, disenfranchised youth,” says Galloway, now 37 and on the line from British Columbia. “People in my movement were from the same area and we were not poor.”

So what was it? In a country as diverse as Canada, how is a quest for “racial purity” not a wacky fever dream? What’s that? You won’t rest until all minorities are banished and a white homeland is established for the master race?  (more...)

In a free marketplace of ideas, stupid ideas quickly die. Ours is not a free market. Who continually spawns and nurtures this beast? Who profits from the fragmentation and degeneration of society?

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