CAMP OF THE SAINTS AUTHOR DEAD AT 94

Jean Raspail, the author of Camp of the Saints, has died. The French author passed away peacefully with his family by his side at a Paris hospital on Saturday. He was less than a month shy of his 95th birthday.

A devout Catholic and keen explorer, Raspail was born in 1925 at Chemillé-Sur-Dême, a historic commune in central France. The son of a factory owner, he led a comfortable childhood, attending St-Jean de Passy, a private Catholic school in Paris, and École des Roches, a private school in Normandy.

Little is known of his war years, of which he was a teenager during the German occupation of France. However, he embarked on a career as an author travelling the world and investigating civilisations, especially old ones, coping with the onset of modernity. As such, he travelled Europe and South America in the 1950s, visiting the land of the Incas during a long car journey.

He came to prominence in 1973 with the publication of his novel Le Camps des Saints, or Camp of the Saints. A controversial book, it depicted the fall of France and the end of western civilisation following mass third-world immigration.

Much like Orwell’s dystopian 1984, which foreshadowed the totalitarian nightmare of Stalinism, Camp of the Saints has strong parallels to the recent wave of mass immigration to Europe. His work has proven so prophetic that in 2011, nearly 40 years after its publication, it returned to the top of France’s bestseller list. Indeed, it is through Camp of the Saints, which was translated into Afrikaans, Czech, Dutch, English, German, Polish, Portuguese and Spanish that he is best known to nationalists worldwide.

The book, which has sold more than half-a-million copies, naturally drew the ire of anti-racists and liberal commentators. However, Raspail, a harsh critic of communism, was never affiliated with any ideology and avoided party politics.  Instead, he described himself as a “free man, never subservient to a party”, although he reportedly admitted to “ultra-reactionary” impulses and was against “interbreeding”.

During his career, Raspail won numerous literary awards for both his novels and travel writing, including the Grand Prix du roman in 1981, the Prix du Livre Inter, the Grande Médaille d’Or des Explorations et Voyages de Découverte, and the Wartburg Literary Award.

The Camp of the Saints author courted controversy often, and in 2004 was sued by the International League Against Racism and Anti-Semitism for the article ‘The Fatherland Betrayed by The Republic’ published in the French magazine Le Figaro. We reproduce the piece below. In this disturbing essay, he chastises the French government for allowing the type of demographic upheaval that led to the replacement of the French people in his best-known book.

However, the court rejected the League’s charge of ‘incitement to racial hatred’, and Raspail was vindicated in his right to freedom of speech.

The late author claimed the inspiration for the Camp of the Saints came from a visit to the French Riviera during 1971 in which he stared out at the Mediterranean and imagined boatloads of immigrants appearing on the horizon, as happened decades later.

Details about Raspail are sketchy, but it was reported that his son was at his bedside at the time of his death, although we couldn’t ascertain much about his immediate family. These are facts that we will be eager to learn as more about the great French writer will inevitably come to light posthumously.

Jean Raspail, one of nationalism’s greatest writers, vale, 1925-2020

“The Fatherland Betrayed by The Republic” by Jean Raspail in Le Figaro magazine (France, 17 June 2004)

I circled around this topic like a dog handler in the presence of a parcel bomb. It is difficult to approach it directly without having it explode in one’s face. There is danger of civilian death. It is, however, the main line of investigation. I hesitated. Especially as in 1973, by publishing The Camp of the Saints, I had already said it all. I do not have a great deal to add except to say that the deed is done.

Since I am convinced that the fate of France is sealed, because “My house is their house,” (Mitterand) inside “Europe whose roots are as much Muslim as Christian,” (Chirac) and because the situation is moving irreversibly towards the final swing in 2050 which will see French stock amounting to only half the population of the country, the remainder comprising Africans, Moors and Asians of all sorts from the inexhaustible reserve of the Third World, predominantly Islamic, understood to be fundamentalist Jihadists, this dance is only the beginning.

France is not the only concern. All of Europe marches to its death. The warnings are precise — the UN report (which delighted some), incontrovertible work by Jean-Claude Chesnais and Jaques Dupachier, in particular — yet they are systematically buried and the National Institute for Demographic Studies [INED] pushes disinformation.

The almost sepulchral silence of the media, governments and community institutions on the demographic crash of the European Union is one of the more striking phenomena of our time. When there is a birth in my family or in the homes of my friends, I cannot look at this baby of our house without reflecting upon that which prepares itself for him in the negligent governments and what he must confront in his manhood.

Without taking into account that those of French stock, bludgeoned by the throbbing tom-tom of human rights, of “the welcome to the outsider,” of the “sharing” dear to our bishops, etc., framed by a whole repressive arsenal of laws known as “anti-racist,” conditioned from early childhood with cultural and behavioural “crossbreeding,” with the requirements of “plural France” and with all the by-products of old Christian charity, will no longer have any other means but to lower their children and to merge without kids into the new mould French “citizen” of 2050.

All the same let us not despair. Without doubt, there will remain what is called in ethnology some isolates, some powerful minorities, perhaps about 15 million French — and not necessarily all of the white race — who will still speak our language more or less unbroken and will insist on remaining impregnated with our culture and our history such as was transmitted to us from generation to generation. It will not be easy for them.

Facing the copious “communities” which one sees being formed today on the ruins of integration (or rather on its progressive reversal — it is us whom one integrates into “the other,” now, and more the opposite) and which in 2050 will be permanently and without doubt institutionally installed, it will be to some extent (I seek a suitable term) a community of French continuity. This one will be based on its families, its birth-rate, its endogamy of survival, its schools, its parallel networks of solidarity, perhaps even its geographical areas, its portions of territory, its districts, even its places of safety, and, why not, its Christian and catholic faith with a small chance if this cement still holds. That will not please. The clash will take place some time or another — something like the elimination of the Kulaks by suitable legal means. And then?

Then France will no longer be peopled, all confused origins, except by hermit crabs who will live in shells left behind by the representatives of a species gone forever which was called the French species and unannounced, by one does not know which genetic metamorphosis, that which in the second half of this century will have been clothed with this name. This process has already started.

There is one second hypothesis that I could not formulate otherwise than privately and which would require that I consult my lawyer beforehand, it is that the last isolates resist until initiating a kind of reconquest undoubtedly different from the Spanish but taking as its starting point the same reasons. This will be a perilous story to write about. It is not me who will be charged with this, as I have already done my bit. Its author has probably not yet been born, but this book will see the light of day at the appointed time, I am sure!

What I cannot understand and which plunges me into an abyss of sorry perplexity, is why and how so many informed Frenchmen and so many French politicians contribute knowingly, methodically — I don’t care to say cynically — with the certain immolation of France (let us avoid the qualifier of eternal which disgusts the beautiful consciences) on the altar of an aggravated utopian humanism.

I ask myself the same question in connection with all these omnipresent associations of rights to this, rights to that, and all these leagues, these think tanks, these subsidized headquarters, these networks of manipulators insinuated into all the wheels of State (political education, judiciary, parties, trade unions, etc.), these innumerable petitioners, these correctly consensual media and all these “clever” folks who day after day and with impunity inoculate their anaesthetic substance into the still healthy body of the French nation.

Even if I can, at a pinch, credit them on the one hand with sincerity, it sometimes saddens me to admit that they are my countrymen. I feel the sting of the renegade word, but there is another explanation: they confuse France with the Republic. “Republican values” have deteriorated ad infinitum; one knows it fully, but never with reference to France. However, France is from the outset a country of [common] blood. On the other hand, the Republic, which is only one shape of government, is synonymous for them with ideology, ideology with a capital “I,” the major ideology. It seems to me, to some extent, that they betray the first for the second.

Among the flood of references which I accumulate in thick files in support of this assessment, here is one which under the [deceptive] appearance of a good child illuminates the extent of the damage well. It is drawn from a speech by Laurent Fabius to the socialist congress of Dijon, 17th May 2003: “When the Marianne [statue of Liberty] on our town halls takes the beautiful face of a young immigrant Frenchwoman, this day France will have crossed a line while bringing alive fully the values of the Republic…”

Since we are left with quotations, here are two to conclude: “No amount of atomic bombs will be able to dam up the tidal wave comprising human beings in their millions which one day will leave the southernmost and poor part of the world, to erupt the relatively open spaces of the wealthy northern hemisphere, in search of survival.” (President Boumediene, March 1974).

And this one, drawn from the 20th chapter of Revelation: “The thousand years is expired. Those are what departs the nations which are at the four corners of the Earth and which are equal in number to the sand of the sea. They will go forth in expedition across the surface of the Earth, they will surround the camp of the saints and the beloved city.”

And then it came true…

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