A SPECTRE IS HAUNTING THE WEST — and It’s Not Red This Time.

—Although some are Red Men and some wear red hats

GONE AWRY: The Unintentional or Unfathomable Consequences of Human Endeavor.

“A SPECTRE IS HAUNTING THE WEST — the spectre of White Nationalism”.

By The Grouchy Marxsman (Guest Commentary)

A new phantom stalks the global cathedral—not of proletarian revolution, but of parochial preservation. The alarm has been sounded.

All the powers of globalism have entered into an unholy alliance to exorcise this spectre: Pope and Soros, Merkel and Trudeau, the French Macron, and their descendants. Add to this the ever-whirring machine of state surveillance.

Where is the populist party that hasn’t been tagged with the WN scarlet letters?

Where is the technocratic think tank that doesn’t reflexively murmur diversity while scanning the horizon for Scandinavian surnames?

Two things follow:

I. White Nationalism, even in its ghostliest form, is now regarded as a real force by the guardians of the global order.

II. It may be time for those accused of summoning it to step forward and declare plainly their desires, distinctions, and local loyalties—lest their silence be rewritten as malevolence by those holding the pen.

A manifesto may not be necessary, but survival might be. And sometimes the path to self-determination winds through haunted woods.

— The Grouchy Marxsman

Silver Lining Report

Filed by Black Cloud

(Official Council Poetic Justice Warrior—Chronic Noticer of Linings, Both Silver and Suspicious)

Let’s be honest: the world’s a bit tired of haunted manifestos. Still, I tip my weather-worn hat to the Grouchy Marxsman for spotting a pattern most won’t name.

Yes, communism once rattled the chandeliers of capital and forced a few boozy concessions: weekends, pensions, and dental plans.

But globalism, ever the minimalist, shipped the jobs, flattened the borders, and replaced the working man with a QR code.

Now the phantom’s changed clothes. He doesn’t wear red—he wears regional wool and maybe a red hat, unironically. The phantom speaks not of dialectical materialism, but of cultural memory, ancestral rootedness, and the tragic comedy of watching your hometown turned into a logistics hub.

And here’s a strange echo worth tuning into: when Marx wrote his manifesto, communism was feared. Some nations, positioned by temperament or trauma to attempt it, failed miserably. Yet communism didn’t disappear—it was defanged. Co-opted. Its fire repurposed to power the fluorescent lights of Western welfare capitalism.

Now that the new spectre is not collectivism but particularism—what will be the concessions?

Will globalism throw bones to the bewildered native, as capitalism once did to the factory worker?

Or will those accused of spectral whiteness flip the game board entirely, trademarking identity the way others did indigeneity—protecting heritage as intellectual property, branding DNA like it’s boutique wine?

A future may come where the ethnic family reunion is a licensed franchise. Ancestry verified. Logos pending.

First, we survive. Then, we monetize.

— Black Cloud

(“Whose mop of gloom, we note, now glimmers with respectable streaks of silver. As always: every cloud has its lining—just don’t assume it’s chrome.” — The Editors)