Letter to a Doxxed Young Nationalist

"Everyone's Born, Everyone Eats, Everyone Sh*ts, Everyone Dies"

What should a young man do when he and his family start getting Antifa death threats? This was the dilemma facing a very talented young American nationalist musician seven years ago.

What advice would you give a young man like that? I was in contact with him while working on resistance songs at the time, so when he told me of his plight, I sat down and wrote him this very personal letter. Re-reading it recently, it struck me that other good youngsters are continually facing such a life-changing moment of decision, so I decided to publish it here. It might help them, or help you help them.

Let me know what you think and, more important by far, by all means take and use any chunks of it which one day may help you do the same for someone else.

Dear ………….

First, many thanks for being upfront and honest, I do appreciate it and have an idea of how long you worried and struggled with yourself about writing that.

I also appreciate the bind you’re in and the pressure on you through your family and friends. You are right to consider them and their safety, but the hint to your own way ahead is in your point about an address change.

I’ll have to be blunt: In terms of a conventional ‘career’, you’ve already blown it. Unless you were to fake a miraculous conversion to everything you so rightly detest, there is absolutely no chance that the political Judaists and the far-left will either forgive or forget. Further, even if they did, or if this hadn’t happened, your very serious talent would in itself in all probability have led you along a path which would have one day brought you to a place which you would suddenly have realised was a dead end, both personally and in terms of the struggle.

Why such a gloomy prognosis? Because moving in those arty, musical, acting circles, the vast majority of the people you would always have to deal with would be so unlike you - so genuinely insane, in fact - that every day with them would have got more and more frustrating. You would have lived in constant frustration at their lunacy and - the higher and further you went in your career - with ever increasing worry that something you might say or do would expose you.

If you face this ‘disaster’ the right way, you will in fact quickly come to understand that it was in fact the best thing that ever happened, because it will have stopped you having to live a lie that would have dragged you deeper into a diseased little world in which you really do not belong.

I remember one of our BNP activists who, for personal reasons, decided that he would be more use infiltrating a violent far-left gang in London than ‘coming out’ as one of us. He did a great job (they launched a hysterical mole hunt at one point because of the amount of info we were getting and using) but in the end had to make a rapid exit when his very clever cover story was undone by suspicions aroused when he simply let slip the comment that at some stage he hoped to get married. That was enough to tell them that he wasn’t like them at all.

And that also brings me to the real heart of the matter: Women. Or rather, the one woman you need to find to fulfil what is by far the most important personal need and duty to the Cause of any and every nationalist in the era of the Great Replacement and the early days of the fightback against it. That, of course, is to have children – a decent number of children - and to rear them away from any contact with the deadly poison of liberalism.

Honestly, everything else one does in one’s career as an activist or one’s life as a human being comes a distant second to this, both in terms of the satisfaction and love it brings into your life, and your contribution to the survival of our race.

Now, from the point of view of shallow materialistic logic, this would push a young man such as yourself down the road of caution, compliance and surrender to the ethos of liberalism and the dictates of a capitalist society: Get your head down, keep your views to yourself, take your parents’ advice (they love you and worry about you and don’t have a clue about the world their generation’s collective criminal selfishness and short-sighted folly has created for their grandchildren), advance your career and make the money you need to attract a ‘nice’ girl and rear a healthy family. The trouble is, that is absolutely, 100% wrong, particularly for you.

If you were working stacking shelves in a supermarket there might be some merit in that approach, because the pool in which you would be fishing for a wife and mother for your children (I’m assuming you’ve already worked out for yourself that the habit of casual sex, endless dating, living together then splitting up after a few years and doing it all over again, is an empty, sterile, dead-end absurdity that is not for you) would consist of girls on your wavelength who may well want the same thing as you, or at least be amenable to it, even when you rolled out the whole essential nine yards of “no TV, no state education, no staying round this liberal cesspit, etc”.

But in your profession, you have absolutely zero realistic chance of finding the right girl. Singers, musicians, actresses, arty types in general - I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you about their political leanings, tendencies, prejudices and liberal hysterias. Actually it’s the same for all middle-class nationalist males who go down the road that leads to university and a conventional profession or place on the career ladder (which is actually a human-rodent treadmill).

The young women to be met in such places will inevitably be spoiled, over-educated, brainwashed, selfish, minority-obsessed, feminism-poisoned freaks. The best that you could realistically hope for in terms of having a family with one of them is one child and that you stay together for a few years and that when it all goes wrong you get to see your child once a fortnight - as long as you behave yourself, act at all times as a good liberal, make no attempt to influence their future education or life path, and keep paying for them even though you are forbidden even to try to guide them right.

What a ghastly prospect - especially given that it will all happen while, around you, the demographic bust of the West really kicks in and it all goes to hell in the handcart to which your only child, and your career entertaining all those blind, amoral fuckwits, are bound.

Is that the life you want? I’m sure it isn’t. So while it’s right that you are so worried about your family and friends (if you weren’t, it would mark you out as one of the unhinged, self-obsessed sociopaths who are attracted to ‘fringe’ causes such as ours, but who rarely stay the distance and in any case are incapable of making a positive contribution) you need to sort yourself out a practical plan to put enough distance between yourself and your destined path in life, and them and the lives in which they feel vulnerable to the vile bullying of the left.

To be honest, that is not probably very far. I made the same choice when I was 22 and was offered a place in a top barristers’ chambers in London - provided only that I “dropped the politics”. I had already ‘doxed’ myself while in my first year at university by standing up and speaking at a debate at the Cambridge Union on the motion “This House would ban the National Front”. (Just to mess things up, by the way, I spoke in favour, on the grounds that it would make the party a revolutionary force, and thus helped get the motion defeated!)

The university Socialist Workers Party vowed to chase me out of town, the student newspaper printed a front page photo of my digs, complete with arrow pointing to my window. I found some pieces of thick steel rebar offcuts in a builders’ skip and hid them along the path between my flat and college, so that I was never more than thirty paces from a weapon. As it turned out, I never needed one; if someone is so cowardly that they think that anonymous threats will scare you off, then you can be pretty certain that they lack the courage to throw a brick at a window, let alone confront you on the street.

My parents were very sympathetic to my political ideals, but even they advised me to take the offer and “get established, make money, get connections and then do things to push things to the right”. But I couldn’t stomach a life of deceit and compromise, so I turned down the offer and went to work as a basically unpaid full-time volunteer with the National Front.

Hard though it has often been as a result, I have never, ever, regretted that decision. So I’m not writing this primarily because I still want you to help us (which of course remains my earnest hope) but overwhelmingly because I believe that it is sound advice which will help you lead a fulfilled and constructive life.

As a direct result of my decision, my parents thirty years later ended up as volunteer telephone workers for the BNP during its most hectic and successful phase. They had to have their letterbox blocked up on police advice, they fielded telephone and written death threats basically every day for ten years, no doubt they worried when they saw me on TV surrounded by bodyguards while on the way into trials and other crazy risks.

But they also got four grandchildren they adored and even a clutch of great-grandchildren before they died. They saw me, against all the odds, become a Member of the European Parliament and be part of events which produced Brexit, as well as help stop Cameron and Obama bombing Syria and its people and its wonderful historical monuments (they were both very keen on archaeology). And though neither of those things was actually what I set out to do, they were happy with that. Very happy.

My wife was 15 and I was just 19 when we first met. At the time her main interests were running and boys and - having decided that I was the one for her - the things I believed in. Although she later went on to carve out an incredible career of her own as a specialist nurse, she has always stood by me, and indeed played a very important role in my political career.

But, of course, she never got put through the brainwashing mill of 21st-century liberal higher education. Universities are cesspits of degeneracy. If you go looking for a wife there, don’t be surprised by the result: If you go fishing in a sewer, why would you expect to catch anything other than a turd?

Where, then, are you going to find the girl you need? Not in a theatre, that’s absolutely certain. And if you do not, then by the time four decades have flashed by you would realise that your entire life has been worth Jack Shit.

Don’t worry, that doesn’t mean you won’t find her, but you’ve got to look in healthy, working-class, even poor communities, and not the places you’d have been stuck if you hadn’t been doxed. You don’t need a girl with whom you discuss Ibsen or Spengler, you need a girl who loves you as the man you are, who wants to have your babies, and – if push comes to shove – can feed you all on five dollars of groceries and a brace of squirrels!

There are churches all over the country with decent young girls among the congregation. Find one and join the choir!

It doesn’t seem to have struck home to the university-centred (and, frankly fag- and freak-riddled) Alt-Right, but there are whole counties in the Scandinavian-settled parts of the American heartland where hardcore Protestant families still have ten or so children each. A lot of the young men head for the big cities and end up sucked down the road to degeneracy, but the more traditional the family the closer they keep their daughters, so there’s a real shortage of eligible young men for those often stunning girls who have been reared since they were babies on the understanding that their main purpose in life is to rear a healthy, large family.

A good-looking young man like you, with healthy attitudes, a guitar and a voice that is a Divine gift would have no trouble there - though if you don’t also have some practical skills that would enable you to earn your daily bread from the sweat of your brow, you’d better make learning them your priority over the next year or two.

Or you can come to Europe. Get yourself to central Europe, find a way to scrape together 10,000 dollars (beats paying off your student loan to some vile bank!) and you can buy a small-holding in Hungary or Poland or Serbia and become basically self-sufficient. Then find a way to monetise your talents to the tune of a hundred or so dollars a month online, and the lingering popular appreciation of American ‘culture’ (God help us!) that there is in those places will have stunning girls falling at your feet.

If you were a Brit, I’d suggest Northern Ireland or one of our materially deprived old industrial areas, but they’re probably not for you.

I guarantee that the nationalists of Europe would love your music so you’d have a steady trickle of gigs and CD and merchandising sales. If you fancy giving that a go, you only have to let me know and I’ll give you all the introductions and help that I can.

It will never make you rich in money, but as a lifestyle and a way of serving the Cause, you really couldn’t realistically be better off. Young Europeans are designed to adapt and invent and survive. There were times when our four children were young when the meat they ate was roadkill. It was either that or no meat at all, and it never hurt them.

They all now appreciate having grown up in a (by modern standards) large family, which I guess is why two of them already have four and three little ones of their own. [2025 Substack update. All four of them now have children, giving me eleven grandchildren.]

Last year I went back to Cambridge for the annual Varsity boxing match against Oxford. I had dinner with six members of the teams I fought for back in the late seventies.

All are now very successful lawyers, doctors and a fund-manager, all with far more money and material possessions than me. Two of them have children, four do not. None have any grandchildren and, as one of the two who do admitted ruefully: “we’ve more or less given up on the hope of our kids having any of their own, they’re too busy chasing careers”. The other with children is older than me but his children are barely teenagers, and are destined for universities and intense careers, so he’ll be lucky to see grandchildren, let alone great-grandchildren.

When they found out that my sixth grandchild had been born the night before, three of those highly successful career men told me quietly and individually that they were envious. Two of their wives told me that they were very jealous. And one, a (genuine) Nigerian prince who had become a hugely successful eye surgeon, and never held my views against me, because he thought White Pride as normal as Black Pride, and because he is a good and genuine Christian - told me simply, “Nick, you are the richest of us all, you are blessed.” He was absolutely right.

So my earnest advice to you is to tell your nearest and dearest that you know you’re a trouble-magnet, so you’re leaving them because you love them, and because, as a Man, you have to follow your chosen path. Keep in very close contact with them, because they love you and because it will, as you know, all blow over very quickly. [2025 note. His parents had given him an ultimatum: Leave the movement or leave home]

As a matter of fact, my experience is that you could stay with them and beyond some cowardly threats, absolutely no harm would come to them. Back in the hey-day of the BNP, in one election alone we had more than 800 of our people voluntarily ‘dox’ themselves by standing as candidates in their own hometowns.

Nearly all, of course, were working class, I wouldn’t expect anything like that courage and commitment from the English middle classes - they’re useless, cowardly, selfish, materialist, ‘respectability’-obsessed bastards.

Many of our candidates lived in poor towns in northern England that are dominated by the Muslim grooming gangs of which you have heard so much. All of them received blood-curdling threats from the attack dogs of the Labour councillors whose seats they threatened. A tiny handful of them got bricks through their windows; four of them in Barnsley had their cars’ paintwork wrecked with brake fluid. Eight hundred targets, thousands of threats, but fewer than ten actual incidents. That pretty much sums up the left in most places. The main thing to be frightened of, is fear.

There’s a fine old saying, which I can’t find attributed to anyone (so it could be from Mosley or William Joyce, which would account for why it’s been shoved down the Google memory hole!) but is still very true whoever first said it: “If a man is not prepared to die for his ideals, then either he or his ideals are useless”.

I’m not suggesting that you or anyone else should die for the Cause; I’m in fact proposing that, by embracing it fully, you choose a much fuller and far more rewarding life than the Zombified living dead fate that awaits those who give in to threats and the bourgeois obsession with ‘respectability’ and ‘a good career’.

It’s particularly strange that the middle classes and liberals alike are so clearly petrified by the slightest hint of physical risk. After all, they idolise and mythologise those who their kind urged to leave behind their families, universities, careers and ‘good prospects’ and go off to war.

My generation – your parents – are pretty much unique in having grown up at a time in which the elite’s wars were fought overwhelmingly by proxy. Perhaps that’s why they think that an anonymous note is a real threat and a brick through a window is real violence.

My own parents, by contrast, had come of age in London during the Blitz. My grandfather had survived four years on the Western Front. Three of my four grandparents were Air Raid Precaution officers, a home defence role that didn’t just involve telling people to “put that light out!” but also pulling body parts from smoking bomb sites. My father served in the RAF from 1942 for the duration of the Second World War. Perhaps that’s why my family, despite their initial concerns, never buckled despite everything that was thrown at us.

Perhaps that’s also why the BNP candidates in Barnsley who got their car paintwork ruined weren’t put off either – because they all came from families of generations of miners and steel workers, and so had a very clear understanding of the difference between real danger and mere annoyance.

I don’t know your family history, but I’m sure that the ‘average’ young Alt-Rightist has ancestors who went uncomplainingly to risk their lives in wars which weren’t even in our peoples’ real interests, ancestors who fought in worthwhile national wars of independence, who watched their young families go hungry on account of their being on strike for a living wage, who moved half-way round the world to work in appalling conditions in pits or mills in the hope that their children might have the chance of something better.

Does any risk that you or yours now face on account of your doxing really come remotely close to what your ancestors endured?

But this is you, and now, not some unknown ancestor a long time ago. I know that, so let me speak even more personally. In May 2001 my leadership of the BNP became a major feature of British politics and my face and name went from the comfortable anonymity that you too have enjoyed up until very recently to overnight notoriety.

Overwhelmingly, that has meant me and my entire family getting used to the intrusive enthusiasm of sympathisers wanting selfies with me. But there are also leftists and aggressive young ‘ethnics’ out there, and even now some of them recognise me, so for seventeen years I have not walked down a street anywhere in Britain without routinely taking note of the bottle on that wall, that length of 4-by-2 sticking out of that skip, that piece of broken fence …. anything which could either be used against me or which I could grab for self-defence if it suddenly turned out to be necessary.

My wife and family have lived with that as well. And of the tens thousands of people who stood as local election candidates for the last generation of nationalist organisations in Britain, France, German, Sweden, Italy, etc, virtually all of them felt like that as they walked down their own High Street.

Particularly because, in addition to the steroid-pumped Muslims and swaggering black racists, the far-left opposition were themselves often real workers and/or came from a tradition in which serious levels of violence were routine. In Britain in the late ‘70s and ‘80s the frontline fighters of the left were tough Republican Irish building workers.

They had replaced the equally tough and much more psychotic working-class Jewish army veterans who our leaders had in turn faced in the late fifties and early sixties. In Germany the anti-nationalists were influenced by the Red Brigades. Our Italian comrades cut their teeth fighting with hammers against hand-gun carrying Communists during the “Years of Lead”.

So when we ‘old fighters’ hear of young members of the Alt-Right bolting for cover like frightened rabbits when some pencil-necked Antifa student doxes them, we find the reaction not merely shocking but frankly bewildering. Because the natural, normal reaction of young men to being told not to do something is to kick off the traces and do it all the more. Especially when the warning comes complete with threats from pathetic and contemptible excuses for humanity who aren’t fit to clean the streets.

I know that, in your case, your concern is absolutely not for your safety, but for those who might suffer as collateral damage from any real problems that you might encounter in an unusually leftist part of the USA.

But that doesn’t alter the fact that you do not have the moral right to surrender to such intimidation. Because if you do, then why should anyone else stand up to them? If the singers and poets – the great and hugely influential real leaders of any and every successful revolutionary movement – do not stand up and set an example of defiance, then what hope is there of your generation putting up any resistance at all, let alone finding ways to make that resistance successful?

This is particularly crucial because the final time of decision will – as you surely already know – come in your lifetime. The activists and leaders of my generation and the one before it could only warn of what was coming as the demographics of White Replacement were set in motion.

Since our society collectively jumped off the cliff, the liberals have still been able to ignore little matters like one million girls raped by grooming gangs in Britain and the hidden epidemic of anti-white racist murders in the USA to say “well, you were wrong, it’s fine so far.” Because we’re still in free fall, and haven’t yet hit the rocks of reality that lie at the bottom of the cliff.

You’re different. You will still be in your prime when society hits those rocks. So even those of your generation who do tow the liberal line face not just a lifetime of debt and AI-driven career insecurity, but also the ghastly consequences of the coming demographic bust. Not even the most PC ‘normies’ are going to be able to hide or escape from the catastrophe that is approaching the liberal West.

So, knowing what you know and being where you are right now, why would you even try to go back to being a normie? Because, even if you can live with the internal shame of being beaten down by the threats of natural born traitors, perverts and sub-human scum, the ‘life’ of bewildered, rootless, shell-shocked normies is not going to be worth living once the Shit Hits The Fan.

To use an analogy of the Middle East after Western liberal and Zionist meddling unleashed Islamist terror on the unhappy lands (thereby giving us all a preview of what their multicultural madness will inflict on our homelands too), the normies are going to be as helpless as the Yazidis in Iraq.

By contrast, the Generation Z rebels who reject surrender and liberal conformity will already have withdrawn and insulated themselves and their children from the terminal diseases of liberalism. They will already be part of a network of comrades, safe places and a growing counter-power economy and culture.

To return to the analogy, provided enough of your generation are willing to stand up to leftist intimidation and get on with the job of organising a real resistance, then even if our people become a minority, they and theirs will not become victims. History is like that – either you help make it, or you and yours are liable to be crushed by its wheels.

Do you want to be a white Yazidi victim or a proud member of the Western equivalent of the men and organisations that fought ISIS to a standstill? That’s the choice that is in front of you right now! I urge you, directly, man-to-man, to make the right choice and to embrace your doxing as the blessing in disguise that removes from your life the all too human temptation to take what superficially appears to be the easy road.

If you and your family believe that your open involvement puts them at risk then, as I have already said, you must move out and find ways to continue and step up the struggle while carving out for yourself a new life where you can be honest and free about who you are and what you believe, and make a permanent contribution towards the Long War our people face to survive. If your folks are really worried about your safety then, if staying in the USA (and you sure as hell won’t get into Britain!), move to a state which allows you to carry firearms at all times. That’s a truly great benefit you Americans have.

While on the subject of deadly force, there’s another saying you should take on board. I heard it from one of the generation of nationalist leaders who’d already been through all this when I was your age: “Everyone’s born. Everyone eats. Everyone shits. Everyone dies. But a few people do something worthwhile and make a difference.”

You know all about the crucial importance of our struggle. You know that the decisive struggle – the one which will decide whether the great book of the History of our people and our blood is closed forever, or if the present mortal danger is merely the opening of a whole new chapter of glory and victory against the odds - has fallen to your generation.

If you walk away from that responsibility and that opportunity now, albeit for the best and most human of reasons, you will never be truly happy as you watch things go downhill from the vantage point of your temporarily ‘safe’ life, and every new defeat and fresh horror raises that niggling question: “What if….?”

Don’t try to exist like that, for it would break you. Get out there, throw yourself into this war under your own name, like all those past generations of Fighting Irish did before you. The moment you decide to do so, you can set to work to come up with a plan of rapid action that protects your family and leaves you free to follow your own Destiny and to “make a difference”.

Take it from me, the moment you do that, the weight of indecision and the fear of the shame of the alternative of powerless surrender which must have been keeping you awake these last few nights will vanish like a bad dream. In its place you will find a vision. Follow that vision, and make that difference!

Yours very sincerely and from the bottom of my heart

Nick