Several months back, I saw one of these “Why I Write ” articles and resolved to write my own. I came up with several good reasons why one should write: to serve as a lightning rod around which to organize dissent, to expose my ideas to constructive criticism, to arrive at a rhetoric which is both radical and relevant, and so on. Those are all perfectly good reasons, but they’re unfortunately not my reasons. For me, writing is a compulsion, an itch that I can’t not scratch.
There are other things I really should be doing. The movement has other writers, writers who are more knowledgeable, more intelligent, and more enjoyable to read. My time is certainly more profitably invested in street organizing and systems design — two roles within the movement that are more sorely needed than yet another blogger. But here I am, writing a blog post about writing blog posts. It’s a sickness, one that you’re enabling by reading this.
And why do I suffer from this sickness? Because I’m White. A defining characteristic of our people, one that’s manifested by a solid fraction of White men and scant few men of other races, is this insatiable impulse to create. This impulse finds different expressions with different men in different contexts, but how many non-White men, including Asians and Jews, have workshops in their garages? Is there an Asian equivalent of Leonardo DaVinci’s notebook? Has there ever been a Jew as creative as Shakespeare? Can India boast of a single polymath as prolific as Ben Franklin?
Comparing accomplishments is innately subjective, but Charles Murray  tried mightily to arrive at an objective comparison between civilizations in Human Accomplishment . His formulas arrived at the intuitively obvious — that we overshadow the rest of mankind in this regard. How many non-Whites have their own private laboratories? How many non-Whites waste their time and energy contributing to open source projects? Who else pursues hobbies with the passion and focus of the White male?
Contributing to the open source movement is the quintessential act of compulsive creativity in today’s world. The open source programmer is, in my mind, the 21st century equivalent of yesteryear’s gentleman scientist . For many of us, the labs and workshops have been replaced with workstations, but the creative impulse remains the same. Just as naturally as a snail leaves a trail of slime, White people leave a trail of creation. Whole new worlds unfold within the folds of our cerebral cortices. While we could congratulate ourselves for our immeasurable contributions that have benefited all of mankind, it’s a compulsion we’re powerless to suppress if we wanted to.
To illustrate my point, I went to the leading host of open source software, Sourceforge , and tried to look up the creators of the top ten projects for this week.
DC++ (Jacek Sieka ) :: White
Audacity (Dominic Mazzoni ) :: White
PortableApps (John T. Haller ) :: White
NVDA (Michael Curran ) :: White
Vuze (Tyler Pitchford ) :: White
eMule (Hendrik Breitkreuz ) :: White
7zip (Igor Pavlov ) :: White
BitTorrent (Bram Cohen ) :: Jew
Pidgin (Mark Spencer ) :: Half-White / Half-Egyptian
Methodology: I skipped FileZilla, VirtualDub, and Shareaza because I could not determine the races of Tim Kosse, Avery Lee, and Tim Stokes. They seem like White names, but that’s insufficient. I also skipped Ares Galaxy and PDFCreator because the developers are apparently anonymous. I used the lowest possible standard of determining whether somebody was Jewish (a single unsupported reference identifying him as such). Not to quibble, but the “Egyptian” Mark Spencer could have probably boarded the Mayflower without raising any eyebrows.
Now, I grant that there’s somewhat of a “digital divide” with Whites being the first ones to have access to the Internet. But that’s largely because Whites, through tinkering and experimenting in labs and garages throughout the West, invented the Internet (and Al Gore is not Jewish ). Not that it entirely explains it. Eastern Europeans are overrepresented in the rankings, despite surely having less access to personal computers and Internet connections than African Americans. The most glaring omission comes from the Far East. Asians may be intelligent, honorable, and orderly, but they quite clearly lag the West when it comes to creativity, experimentation, and innovation.
We had a forest behind my home where I grew up. I never really played in it that much — I worked in it. I designed an elaborate system of trails with a yard rake, borrowed a spade from a neighbor and created a dam that produced a small pond when it rained, built flimsy bridges over ditches with sticks, and created little forts from fallen logs. Then, when back in the house, I drew detailed maps in my journal of the trails and landmarks I had created. While I don’t play in the woods much anymore, the same basic impulse has only grown stronger as I’ve grown older.
I’m not saying my habits are typical of White people, but I’m atypical in a typically White way. I’m a geek. As a teenager, I was diagnosed by one psychiatrist with Asperger’s Syndrome, which could explain why the mortal terror of public ridicule that freezes many would-be activists in their tracks doesn’t phase me. I can’t even call it courage in my case, as I barely perceive the threat. I lie awake at night worrying about losing, not about being laughed at, marginalized, or deemed unworthy of respect by this regime’s self-appointed arbiters of respectability.
According to Ayn Rand, the fountainhead of human progress is greed. In her case, and for her people, that may well be the most succinct way to define their “progress.” For me and my people, our progress is measured in terms of creativity. For me as an individual, that creative compulsion often finds expression in the form of writing. Before I started writing frequently for the movement, I wrote frequently on anthropological topics that eventually led me to outspoken advocacy. After we’ve secured a sovereign stretch of homeland for future generations, I’ll move on to writing about other topics that I find fascinating, yet unworthy of my focus in the midst of our existential crisis.
But I’ll always write, and I’ll always write because I’m White.