Fistfights With Muslims In Europe: One Man's Journey Through Modernity
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About this ebook
Part travelogue, part Fight Club, part sociological study; Fistfights With Muslims In Europe: One Man's Journey Through Modernity catalogues the author's travels in Europe over a five-year span in the 2000's, and how they impacted his personal and political journey.
Interactions with both native Europeans and Muslim immigrants, and several random fights with the latter, catalyzed a self-examination in the author that impacted his views on culture, identity, Islam, and the place of men in the modern world. These experiences, combined with troubling observations of contemporary European behavior and politics, lead to a terrifying glimpse into the future of modern Europe.
The book combines first-person narrative, especially early on, with an appropriate mix of exposition and background information. Drawing into the discussion the works of authors such as Jack Donovan, William S. Lind, Omar Nasiri, Tamim Ansari, and others, the author creates both an exciting tale of trial and growth, as well as a detailed examination of the peril that modern Europe finds itself in.
About The Author
Julian Langness writes about geopolitics, culture, identity, and masculinity. He has contributed popular essays and articles to Traditional Right and Counter-Currents, and is the editor of www.europeancivilwar.com. He has been featured in interviews with author Piero San Giorgio, as well as Henrik Palmgren of Red Ice Radio, and others. He has also spoken at the Northwest Forum, the American Renaissance Conference, and other venues.
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Fistfights With Muslims In Europe - Julian Langness
Author’s Note
This book is a narrative recounting of actual events. Names and places have been changed however.
The fights detailed in this book took place in a greater variety of locations, and across a longer timeline, than here portrayed. These details of time and place have been altered slightly as a result to better fit the narrative structure.
Introduction
The man hurled epithets across the alley. Words echoed off the cold brick walls, as his deep voice reverberated.
Wie jetzt? Fick dich. Motherfucker. Fuck motherfucker,
he yelled in broken English and German. He raised his open hands up and out in provocation, daring me to charge him. He was a large man with big brown eyes, and close cut black hair. His frame was larger than most Muslim men, and stocky.
I yelled back at him, as we side stepped in a circle, like mirror images of each other. The calls back and forth grew louder as we inched closer.
And then suddenly it began. Like in the previous fights, I knew one millisecond early that it was commencing. The adrenaline surged through my body even more rapidly, and I lost sight of everything but the man across from me.
He swung his right arm at me. I tried to raise my left forearm in time but it only deflected his fist to my ear. The pain snapped through me as I jumped to the side. Before I knew it we were each swinging again. I punched hard with my right arm but missed. As I regained my balance he swung at me with his right and then his left. Erratically attempting to elude his strikes I collided with him.
In close quarters the fight continued, and he soon got a grip on the back of my neck. I kept swinging however, and finally landed a square blow, my fist launching into his nose. My poor footing caused me to fall though, and we tumbled together into the ground.
Tangled up lying on my back, the man was quickly on top of me. I held on to his right collar with my left hand as he attempted to stand. I tried to rear back to punch him, but as I lost my grip on his shirt and fell backwards his fist collided with my left eye. Temporarily stunned, I did not react quickly enough, and he settled in upon me with renewed fury, throwing his right fist against me as I tried to raise my arms.
As I worked desperately to regain the upper hand everything seemed to slow down, and I became conscious of thoughts moving through my head. It was like a pinpoint dot of calm in the eye of a storm, and I wondered to myself what was going through the man’s mind.
Did he feel that he was fighting for Islam? For his race? As an oppressed minority of Europe? For his honor as a man?
Or did he have such thoughts at all?
And how did he view me? What background, or forces, or logic or lack thereof had led me here? And where did he and I fit in to the world around us, as we traded blows within that alley?
Chapter One
I was born a white American male. My last name is Langness, as is my father’s, and as was his father’s before him. My great-grandfather came here from Norway in the late 1800’s. He, and his ancestors, had farmed the lands around Rudenes Parish—in the Ostfold—for generations upon generations before that.
For over a thousand years these men—before they had even garnered last names and become Langness’s—had worked these sloping hills, and had fought to protect their farms and families. In times of invasion from the neighboring Swedes—long their mortal enemies—they would retreat to the high ground overlooking the fjord in Halden, and band together to repel the attackers.
In the 1600’s a great fortress was built upon this high ground above the fjord, and in the intervening years between then and the 20th century, the Swedes attempted six more invasions. In each their targets were the fortress and the Ostfold and the lands behind them in the Norwegian interior. All six times they failed however, and in each it was the bravery and valor of the men of Southeast Norway, my ancestors among them, who repelled the invasions, sacrificing their blood for victory and freedom.
Within the long count of generations, stretching back into the mists of pre-history, most Norwegian men had fought with the same traditional weapons their ancestors had used before them. Axes, swords, pikes, shields, and bows were utilized in battles that brought men face to face with those they had to kill.
Eventually in the 14th Century gunpowder was introduced in Scandinavia however, and over the next several hundred years firearms became increasingly preeminent. The advent of this change allowed men to do battle from a greater and greater distance. War continued to grow more mechanized as time went by, and killing took on an increasingly distanced and impersonal tone.
Just as battle had evolved through this time, so too had the allegiances of men evolved from the early days of Scandinavian history, long before political entities such as Norway
and Sweden
came into existence.
In the years before the Vikings, and long before Christianity, allegiances were primarily family-based. Adult sons would marry and begin having children within the walls of their father’s compound or the borders of his lands, and through this small clans began to develop. The earliest Norse mythologies started to evolve during these times, in which strong male figures such as Odin and Thor were worshipped.
These familial clans began to evolve further as the classic Scandinavian longships came into being, and men found they could travel greater distances than ever before. They organized themselves into tactically-based units, gangs of men who followed the dictates of Chieftains, who ruled based on a combination of strength, tradition, and will. A Chieftain’s authority rested foremost on his honor however—honor being in this case the esteem and respect with which the men who fought under a leader held him.
As the Viking Age commenced, the opportunities for war and plunder catalyzed even larger groups of men into formation. The worship of Thor and Odin became widespread, and the traditional honor codes grew intertwined with these developments. This lent the Viking forces a fearsome uniformity of purpose. As one foreign chronicler would write: If a group of them is challenged to war, they all join forces. They stand firm as one man against their enemies until they have the victory over them.
[1]
These words were written by Ibn Rustah, one of the first Muslims to come into contact with the Vikings, in Novgorod in Eastern Europe, while each party was far from home. He wrote about the fearsomeness of Viking warriors, and the eagerness with which they courted death in battle. For the Vikings believed that this was the greatest honor a warrior could achieve. They believed that the Valkyries would lift the soul of the dead fighter off the battlefield, and carry him away to Valhalla. Thus they considered death in battle glorious and sacred, and it became a destiny men strove for.
Eventually the Viking Age ended, and the era of Christianity began. Simultaneous with this were the beginnings of the Scandinavian feudal system, in which men’s loyalties rested under kings. This too would pass, however, and eventually industrialization and democracy would come into effect. It was after the turn of the 21st Century had come, and these latter two forces had reached out from Europe and America to begin transforming large swaths of the globe, that I first travelled to Norway.
At that time my knowledge of Norwegian history was far more limited. All I knew was that my ancestors had come from the area around Halden, in present day Southeast Norway. But this nugget of information was enough to send me on a quest across the Atlantic back to Scandinavia, to discover what I could of my history and people.
The longing for tribe and heritage is one of the most innate drives that we as humans possess. Raised amid the focus on global citizens
, and individualism, it was natural that as a young man I would seek out additional answers to questions of identity. And therefore in the summer of my 17th year, I hopped on a flight to Oslo, to spend a month travelling around Norway, the land of my ancestors.
I was to be staying in Oslo with friends of friends. They were each women in their late 20’s or early 30’s, and both were social workers. I had no idea where they lived, but arriving at the airport in Oslo, I hopped on a bus with their address written on a piece of paper, where one of them was supposed to be meeting me.
An hour or so later the bus driver dropped me off at the bottom of a great hill, and as I disembarked I saw a young blonde woman standing there, obviously waiting for me. She looked like she was 25-30 years old, with a round, jovial face, and big blue eyes.
She greeted me eagerly, and quizzed me about my flight and the bus ride.