On May 3, 2016, Identity Europa, the recently formed pro-white advocacy group led by Nathan Damigo, released a statement revealing their plan to hold an event in Sproul Plaza on the campus of the University of California at Berkeley. This was followed by a social media campaign  and support from the National Policy Institute, led by Richard Spencer. The purpose was to create a “safe space” for a discussion of race and white interests.
Such a goal seemed perfectly in line with contemporary academic culture. And it was: from the message and language of the event to its location at the epicenter of the (in)famous Free Speech Movement of the mid-1960s, there was nothing to which an objective observer could logically take exception. But, as we are all taught daily, whites who don’t apologize for being white are “problematic.” And whites who openly celebrate being white and dare to assert their racial interests are the single greatest threat to mankind that ever has or ever will exist. Right?
Leftists often attach revolutionary language to their actions, however ad hoc, misguided, or pointless. They cover their faces, smash police cars and store windows, scream obscenities at bystanders and then retreat to the marijuana smoke-stained walls of their various hovels. They then gloat about the “Battle of Oakland” or the “Battle of Seattle” as if they are the Baader-Meinhof Group reincarnate. But they understand better than the Right that they are building a mythology, creating (what they believe) is a parallel radical history that will inspire future action and, in the style of the Holocaust, create mountains out of molehills to be used in aeternum as political referents. As I have argued before , there is an extant language of radical politics that White Nationalists too often fail to use to advance our interests.
It is then, with a frank admission of strategic hyperbole, justified to refer to the Identity Europa event as the “Battle of Berkeley.” After all, it takes far more courage to show oneself publicly as a pro-white advocate in an area internationally famous for being hostile to white interests than it does to sneak, under cover of darkness, into an urban area with a mask and a bat and join many dozens of other human failures in various acts of “vandalism for the establishment.” Not one of us in attendance knew what to expect. Anything could have happened. There is a formidable antifa presence in the Bay Area, and that so few of them showed up is not our fault. A battle easily won is no less a battle.
Knowing Berkeley very well, I followed the social media chatter with interest and was not only curious to see how the event would play out but wanted to add my physical presence to the mix to show support and to help in case things got ugly, which I was almost certain they would. To my surprise and, to be quite honest, an equal amount of relief and disappointment, the event was peaceful. But this is a credit to Mr. Damigo, Mr. Spencer, and the caliber of supporters in attendance, each of whom was smart, confident, and composed. I do not believe there was a single supporter in attendance who would not have been prepared to physically defend the group if necessary, but due to the deftness with which the organizers handled the crowd and the affability of the supporters in attendance, we gave them no opportunity to get violent.
I arrived early, made my way up Telegraph Avenue, past the usual crowds of hippie street merchants, homeless people, drunks, and students, and sat in Sproul Plaza watching the crowd. As is always the case on that campus, the majority of faces were non-white. I saw no one who appeared to be there for any particular reason, save a large group of Asians taking photos — most likely tourists who had been advised by some uninformed or malevolent travel agent that Sproul Plaza was worth visiting while in Berkeley. As the designated starting time drew closer, a few of us had managed to connect. We chatted, waited, and watched. It was a cool, gray day and rain had been forecast. I mentioned to the initial small group that this was “white people weather.” And then they arrived.
Mr. Damigo’s entrance into Sproul Plaza was, in my opinion, the highlight of the event. Unfortunately this moment was not captured on the Red Ice live-stream , but his intensity was immediately apparent. My first thought was that he looked like a fighter entering a cage match. As soon as he reached the center of the plaza, he began speaking loudly and fearlessly about white interests, moving to and fro like a boxer, with confidence bordering delightfully on aggression. Slowly, a crowd gathered around him while Mr. Spencer began interacting with reporters and well-wishers. I do not know if this entrance was calculated but it seemed so because it worked so well. While Mr. Damigo attracted attention and engaged hostile audience members, Mr. Spencer stayed on the fringes of the crowd controlling, in a sense, the narrative.
As the event gained some momentum, the supporters (most of whom appeared to be in their 20s and early 30s) maintained two largely separate groups, often drifting between them to offer support where needed. The first was composed of those who encircled Mr. Damigo, posing questions to him in order to guide the discussion and helping him respond to objectors. The second was composed of those standing by Mr. Spencer, who as one journalist reported, was indeed “civil, articulate, witty and charming .” The skill with which he handled those questioning him was impressive. He never lost his composure and was never at a loss for words. He refused to give an inch to those who were trying to debate him but he did so in such a way that I honestly believe more than a few of those who challenged him ended up actually liking him. Much of this was captured on the live-stream, which is well worth watching if you have not already seen it. Johnny Monoxide, from therightstuff.biz, did a very good job recording the event, despite the problems inherent in live-streaming from a phone and having to run back and forth between the various “happenings.”
I paid special attention to the enemies on the scene, both out of curiosity and because I have always had a very strong tendency towards physically protecting those to whom I am loyal or feel some sort of affinity. As can be seen on the video, there were many non-whites in the plaza but most behaved reasonably well. There were a few older hippies who appeared to be Jewish and whom I had seen earlier but had not realized were there intentionally (including the fellow with the bicycle who can be seen confronting Mr. Damigo in the beginning of the footage). They behaved precisely as one would suspect — flabbergasted at the notion that people like us even exist after all the ever so meaningful concert-going and acid-dropping they did in the 1960s and ’70s. And, though I don’t remember it being in the video despite Mr. Monoxide’s mention of it, there was indeed a young Jew with an Israeli flag attached to his jean jacket. We spotted him early on and, of course, chuckled fashily. Someone mentioned to me that he overheard a different Jew suggesting to his friend that our haircuts were threatening and wondered if that could be used to get us removed from the premises. If nothing else, this helps explain why rock-throwing Palestinians get shelled with white phosphorous so often. All in all, I would estimate no more than ten people were there in advance to actively oppose us, but most did nothing but occasionally yell “white supremacist” into the wind. What transpired is well-documented. The Red Ice coverage provides a very good overview of the events so there is no need to go into much more detail.
A friend of mine who watched the live-stream mentioned that a few people made comments in the chat section that Mr. Damigo’s debating tactics were not as effective as they could have been. Though I disagree, I also do not care. These people likely have never debated anyone in public, let alone while being swarmed by a group of argumentative non-whites and various Leftists. If a certain question could have been better answered or a particular point should have been made that wasn’t, I would strongly suggest that these individuals walk onto a university campus and try to do a better job. And, of course, I mean this very seriously — because this is the entire point. There will come a day when keyboard warriors will be forced to hit the streets and when they do it will not be the autistic nitpickers who will be leading the charge.
Let this be the first of many such events across the entire country and let us all hope that the next battle has men like Mr. Spencer and Mr. Damigo front and center. I want to thank both the organizers and the supporters I met that day for engaging in this action. I look forward to many more like this but larger, louder, and surrounded by even more copious controversy and butthurt. To those who were not there, I want to add that each of us in attendance took a huge physical and social risk for you. Now it is time to up your game. In the meantime, Mr. Spencer, Mr. Damigo, and the other supporters in attendance should be commended on their composure, their intelligence, and their courage. At that particular time and place, they did everything they could possibly have done to help the white race. If only each of us every night could get ready for bed, reflect on our actions, and be able to say that. And now I will sit back and eagerly hope, only partially ironically, for the release of some sort of “Ballad of Berkeley” from Seventh Son, Morrakiu, or one of our other bards.