How I Saw the Light About Race (Part III)
William Johnson, Chairman, American Freedom Party:
When I was growing up, I lived in an almost totally white America. My schools, churches, Boy Scout troop, and playground playmates were all white. Except for the occasional agitations by “black power” advocates, race was never in the forefront. While still a teenager, I went to Japan to live for an extended time. I learned to speak, read, and write Japanese. In my daily conversations with a mostly middle-aged to senior-citizen crowd—who were still deeply demoralized from their loss in World War II—I learned to cherish my Northern European heritage. The Japanese men schooled me on how Western man was the ideal world leader and Western woman the paragon of beauty.
I brought those concepts back to the United States and for the last 35 years I have been a tireless advocate for my people. I went to Harvard Law School and Columbia University School of Law and have practiced law since 1981. During those years, my office has been bombed and my life threatened. Elected government officials have (without merit) called for me to be investigated for various felonies. Lawyers have filed briefs with the courts excoriating me for my views. However, that is mostly old history now. I am now seeing a measure of support and acceptance where only opprobrium existed before. Things are looking better. Things are looking up.
I share the same birthday as Martin Luther King, Jr. I was taught that the roots of all black societal issues were economic. Eventually I was awakened, courtesy of the US Government.
I joined the Marines as a young man. Afterwards, I received my Masters in Islamic Culture and Law from Tufts University and an MBA from the College of William and Mary. I then went to work for a federal agency and ultimately opened my own contracting firm. In my work, I traveled to 77 countries, primarily in the Islamic world and sub-Saharan Africa.
With each experience and exposure, I saw firsthand the depravity of inferior cultures.
I watched the Muslim capacity for brutality. I saw the inability of Africans to manage their own affairs. And I watched talented white Americans replaced by black candidates with inferior skills by a hostile Obama administration. Eventually, it was my turn to be displaced.
Black officials, once in a position of power, immediately began putting inferior black candidates into positions of authority. Whites who did not passively step aside were attacked, both legally and viciously. That is when it dawned on me: The aggressive tribal instinct of blacks extends beyond Africa, and it is far greater than whites realize.
I was a naive young man of 18 until I spent two weeks at Fort Benning, Georgia, with the US Army Reserve. I am from Mississippi, and being around black people was nothing new. This time, however, I was cheek to jowl with them, and I found myself thinking, “I don’t just think I’m a better person than these foul-mouthed troglodytes; I am a better person.” “Motherf***er” seemed to constitute the larger part of their vocabulary, and some of them managed to keep the local prostitutes busy. A black barracks across the street was reputed to have a gonorrhea outbreak.
I was well into middle age when it occurred to me that the race issue was something most had strong opinions about, but of which few of us had any real scientific knowledge. I began to read every treatise on race and genetics I could find. I read everything from Carlton Coon to Michael Levin, from The Bell Curve to Glayde Whitney’s Race, Genetics & Society. I now have a small library of such books.
The jury is in. No reasonable mind can doubt that our genes affect anatomy, physiology, cognitive ability, and patterns of behavior. Those who insist otherwise are perpetuating a myth. As Blaise Pascal said “If the earth rotates about the sun, as opposed to the sun rotating about the earth, a papal decree cannot change it.”
I became a race realist while working in the criminal justice system in NY City in the late 1970s and early ‘80s. I grew up on Cupcake Lane in the suburbs, but found myself in my mid-20s working in Manhattan’s criminal court.
My family’s roots were in the city, so I was well aware of local family poverty stories from the Depression era. There was never any talk of crime, only of struggle. The Depression was a time of very little crime, so I never believed that there was a correlation between poverty and crime as many claim.
During my time working in Manhattan, six hundred thousand felonies were committed each year in the city. I was the victim of two such felonies, witnessed two others, and was acquainted with numerous other victims.
I went to court every day, and every day the only white people were the judge, the lawyers, and the court officers. Everyone else, either in the holding pens or on the public benches in the courtroom , was either black or Hispanic. (Chinatown was just out the back door, but Chinese as a rule do not commit street crimes.)
There were usually a hundred names on the calendar each day. Each day, we reached our daily “Rodriguez” before getting to number ten. The criminal justice system paralyzed under the onslaught.