Jihad Watch Board Vice President Hugh Fitzgerald introduces you to one of the most powerful nations on the planet today: Ngolandia.
A good many of the so-called "Human Rights" organizations are staffed by those who either see no difference between the moral standing of the West and that of the Islamic world, or never did much like that West.
Many of these people are corrupt morally, intellectually, and in other ways. The biggest NGO of them all, the King of Ngolandia, is the United Nations. Think of what preoccupies it, and what it has ignored. Think of how it has handled, for example, the mass murder in Biafra (1967-1969), or the mass murder and mass slavery in the southern Sudan (1980- present), or the mass murder in Darfur, or the Arab enslavement of blacks in Mali and Mauritania. Think of the amount of attention it gave to the mass murder by Arabs of Kurds, or the cultural and linguistic oppression by Arabs of Berbers. Think of how often the U.N. has addressed the destruction of thousands of churches, and the attacks on Christians, in Indonesia, or the persecution and attacks on Hindus in Pakistan, in Bangladesh, in Kashmir. Think of how much time has been spent, on the other hand -- is it 1/3 or 1/2 of the total? -- on the issue of the recently-invented "Palestinian people" and The Mighty Empire of Israel, that doth bestride the world like a menacing colossus. Think of the oil-for-food business. Think of the U.N. soldiers and civilians, with their sex slaves in situ, and their use of diplomatic immunity to engage in all sorts of smuggling of valuables. Do you think it is the U.N alone? Those who have made it their business to study the efficacy of NGOs, of their programs, of what they turn a blind eye to and what they pocket while "doing good," know better. (Some, of course, may join NGOs -- the ones that presume to preach to America and the West -- out of less base motives, but many know exactly what is going on.)
A few years ago the British historian of the Empire, Professor David Carradine, noted that imperialism did not always make sense economically for Great Britain as a whole. It was sometimes a drain. But what it did do was provide a rise in status for a great many English men and women who, if they were lower-middle-class at home, could find themselves in Africa, or in India, enjoying a standard of living, and the ability to order around others, that they could not have enjoyed if they had remained at home.
Many of these NGO people, flying hither and yon on expense accounts, presuming to tell this country or that country what it should do, and wrapping themselves in the mantle of righteousness (which, on closer inspection, they often appear not to deserve), have escaped from the more boring lives of those they went to school with, but who are now toiling in the vineyards of law firms or departments of government or economics. And the salaries, and the benefits, and the opportunity for all sorts of lording it over others with all that comes with that, makes many of these waBenzi ("the People of the Mercedes Benz" as they are called by us jaded Swahili speakers in East Africa) of Ngolandia deserve, not automatic respect, but automatic skepticism, and cynicism. A few of these organizations are legitimate, or were -- just look at what the ACLU has become, in its personnel and therefore in its policies. Or perhaps one might say, in its policies, and therefore in its current personnel.
Ngolandia deserves investigation, and not the kind of free pass it has heretofore received. These "new imperialists" -- the American law students brightly spending their summers refashioning the world -- eight weeks here in Moscow, or 4 weeks in Cambodia, or 5 weeks over here in Venezuela -- who of course are simply pad-pad-padding their resumes, and whose proud parents can tell others about how their children spent their summer vacation. The complacency of it all, and the hollowness of so much of it, infuriates.
That dangerous cocktail of false Marxism (because the Soroses of this world have no intention of really changing the system from which they have so handsomely profited, but merely to hand out, to recycle, to "launder" their ill-gotten gains, much as los medicos de Medellin "launder" their drug money), of Third-World-ism (tiersmondisme) in which, somehow, the fabulously and entirely undeservingly rich plutocrats of such Muslim oil states as the U.A.E., Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait are allowed to present themselves as members in good standing of this "Third World" without anyone collapsing in laughter, and finally, a dislike of their own societies, or a pretend-alienation which may not really be felt, but which colors what they do, what they say, what they think they should think -- these are the three strands that explain so many of the denizens of Ngolandia.
Presuming to lecture the peoples and polities of Europe as to what they can, or cannot do, to protect themselves from what is both a physical and a civilizational threat is merely the latest example of their tendentiousness, their indifference to reality, their cruel and stupid assumptions about the Western world and its need to make amends.
Meanwhile, these well-paid, plumply self-satisfied "public servants" of Ngolandia -- servants of their own agendas, that is -- are paid for by the long-suffering taxpayers of the Western world. These are the same taxpayers who, by allowing these organizations preferential tax status, are asked by these Ngolandians to refrain from sensible measures to protect themselves.
Taxpayers who, through the jizya of foreign aid to practically every Muslim state that happens not to share in the oil bonanza, help support Arabs and Muslims in their Al-Jazeera and Qur'an-Hadith-Sira-fueled hostility, or even hysteria and hate. Those taxpayers go through the tran-tran of the commute, the job, and sleep, the routine of metro-boulot-dodo, while all over the Arab and Muslim world, there is either the fabulously luxurious life -- entirely the result of an accident of geology -- lives of indolence and luxury. Or there are those who, sitting in cafes playing cards or other games, or lips affixed to hubble-bubble pipes, while the eyes of both game-players and sheesha-sippers remain fixed on the Al-Jazeera programs being blared out from the television that sits atop a shabby shelf, pouring out its hate, its hysteria, its untreatable poison.