Numerous kind souls have emailed in to tell me that Victor Davis Hanson has confessed to having given his son “The Talk, Nonblack Version,” and published his confession at, of all places, National Review Online.
Yet I fear that for every lecture of the sort that Holder is forced to give his son, millions of non-African-Americans are offering their own versions of ensuring safety to their progeny.
In my case, the sermon—aside from constant reminders to judge a man on his merits, not on his class or race—was very precise.[Facing Facts about Race| Young black males are at greater risk from their peers than from the police or white civilians, July 23, 2013]
Would I care to comment? the kind souls ask.
In a way, I already have:
Seasoned European leftists of the 1940s were wont to refer to themselves bitterly as “premature anti-fascists.” They had (they grumbled) been fighting against fascism when nobody much outside the Left minded it—when, indeed, some very respectable establishment types in Britain and the U.S.A. embraced it. Now that everyone agreed that fascism was the Supreme Evil, weren't they entitled to some credit for their foresight?
Political history is often like that. Some idea, ideology, policy, style, or practice is fine with most everyone but an annoying minority of dissenters … until it isn't. Then suddenly all the wise and good are saying, to each other's hearty approval, what the dissenters had said ten years previously, to general scorn—or, more often, contemptuous silence.
The rewards of accurate prophecy are, I think, pretty well known.
Ah yes: In matters ideological, timing is everything. Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia!
(Should you wish to possess my own attempt at “The Talk, Nonblack Version” in a handy permanent form that you can leave lying around in hopes your children will pick it up and absorb the wisdom, I urge you to purchase my recent book From the Dissident Right, in which it forms the first chapter. In the event you are too much of a selfish, crabbed, mooching cheapskate to shell out $15.99 in support of a struggling ink-stained wretch, you can read the essay online at Taki’s Magazine.)