Kipling: White Man’s Burden

TAKE up the White Man’s burden –
Send forth the best ye breed –
Go bind your sons to exile
To serve your captives’ need;
To wait in heavy harness
On fluttered folk and wild –
Your new-caught sullen peoples,
Half devil and half child.

Take up the White Man’s burden –
In patience to abide
To veil the threat of terror
And check the show of pride;
By open speech and simple,
An hundred times made plain,
To seek another’s profit,
And work another’s gain.

Take up the White Man’s burden –
The savage wars of peace –
Fill full the mouth of famine
And bid the sickness cease;
And when your goal is nearest
The end for others sought,
Watch Sloth and heathen Folly
Bring all your hopes to nought.

Take up the White Man’s burden –
No tawdry rule of kings,
But toil of serf and sweeper –
The tale of common things.
The ports ye shall not enter,
The roads ye shall not tread,
Go make them with your living,
And mark them with your dead !

Take up the White Man’s burden –
And reap his old reward,
The blame of those ye better,
The hate of those ye guard –
The cry of hosts ye humour
(Ah slowly !) towards the light:-
“Why brought ye us from bondage,
“Our loved Egyptian night ?”

Take up the White Man’s burden –
Ye dare not stoop to less –
Nor call too loud on Freedom
To cloak your weariness;
By all ye cry or whisper,
By all ye leave or do,
The silent sullen peoples
Shall weigh your Gods and you.

Take up the White Man’s burden –
Have done with childish days –
The lightly proffered laurel,
The easy, ungrudged praise.
Comes now, to search your manhood
Through all the thankless years,
Cold-edged with dear-bought wisdom,
The judgement of your peers.

 

http://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/poems_burden.htm

A key question of anthropology and psychology is When did we become human?

Cross-cultural studies show plainly, many of us are not there yet.

Even in the West.

Pity has killed the white man, the stupidity of taking slaves and allowing the conquered to survive, breed with food and other resources they couldn’t earn themselves. The weakness of being uncomfortable with natural law. If you let the conquered have a seat at the feast, they succeed, they have won. Mercy is the absence of punishment, not reward. White men have a profound weakness for the outgroup and this is pathological altruism. The world is not your family, they are your enemy.

The aid workers will be spat on in future, even ignoring the rape scandals. They took from their own people, things they did not earn and gave them to our enemies (traitors). To make them strong, so they can swarm us. They do not love us, they cannot love the outgroup, they hate and resent us like a brat. Sensing this hatred is common sense but impolite to mention.

God, Nature made them that way because they need to evolve. Do not spoonfeed adults. Stupidity is the capital crime of nature, mind.

Each culture earns its place.

Nobody gets to cut the line.

The Third World will starve – due to First World hubris.

Kipling’s The Stranger

THE STRANGER within my gate,
He may be true or kind,
But he does not talk my talk—
I cannot feel his mind.
I see the face and the eyes and the mouth,
 But not the soul behind.

The men of my own stock
They may do ill or well,
But they tell the lies I am wonted to,
They are used to the lies I tell.
And we do not need interpreters
When we go to buy and sell.

The Stranger within my gates,
 He may be evil or good,
But I cannot tell what powers control—
What reasons sway his mood;
Nor when the Gods of his far-off land
Shall repossess his blood.

The men of my own stock,
 Bitter bad they may be,
But, at least, they hear the things I hear,
And see the things I see;
And whatever I think of them and their likes
They think of the likes of me.

This was my father’s belief
 And this is also mine:
Let the corn be all one sheaf—
And the grapes be all one vine,
Ere our children’s teeth are set on edge
By bitter bread and wine.

 

http://www.kiplingsociety.co.uk/rg_stranger1.htm

Sails
Alphonse de Lamartine

When I was young and proud and opened my wings,
The wings of my soul to all the winds of the sea,
Sails carried my thoughts with them,
And my dreams floated over all the bitter waves.

I saw in this haze where the horizon drowns
All verdant vines and jasmine appearing,
Continents of life and islands of joy
Where fame and love came by to take my hand.

I envied every ship that blanched the foam,
Happily aspiring to the unknown coast,
And now, seated at the shore of the smoking cape,
I have crossed those waves and returned.

And I still love those seas that I so loved before,
No longer as the scene of my cherished dreams
But like a fertile death where my wings were sown,
Showing fragments of me everywhere.

This reef broke me, this shore proved fatal
My fortune foundered in that calm deceit;
The lightning fell upon me here from the celestial bow
And each of those waves turns my heart a little.

 

from http://www.poemswithoutfrontiers.com/Les_Voiles.html