What happens when we die? Why are we here? How do you live the sort of life that precludes bad things happening to you in the next one? Just a few of the questions I shall be trying and failing to answer at my next podcast live event when I shall be chatting to Feargus O’Connor Greenwood.

I’m a big fan of Feargus. His first book - 180 Degrees: Unlearn the Lies You’ve Been Taught to Believe - is probably the best Key to All Conspiracies there is. Titanic; Yuri Bezemov; Antarctica; Loosh; vaccines; USS Liberty; 9/11; Isaac Kappy; you name them or it and they’re probably there.

But that was just beginning. In his latest book - Spiritual War: Tales of the Unexpected (Part 1) - Greenwood really goes off the deep end. So much so that Greenwood asked: “You SURE you want to do a podcast with me? Maybe you should read the book first.”

Well, I’ve read it and I’m looking forward to our conversation more than ever.

Greenwood and I don’t agree on everything - he’s not a Christian, at least in any conventional sense - but I wouldn’t expect this of any guest I had on my podcast. Sure, on those very rare occasions where there is a total meeting of minds it’s a bonus. Really all I’m after though is interesting ideas, fluently and entertainingly expressed and - key, this - persuasively argued.

I hate to keep harping on about my disappointing encounter with David Icke. But it illustrates the point I’m trying to make so well that I can’t not. Icke and his followers chose to misrepresent our disagreement as the result of my Christian dogmatism. It wasn’t that though. I couldn’t have cared less whether Icke was a Zoroastrian or a Jedi or a Seventh Day Adventist or, as he probably is, a Luciferian serving up microwaved Madame Blavatsky. Where I do draw the line though, is with guests incapable of explaining coherently and engagingly “Here’s what I believe” and “Here’s why.” That was my problem with Icke: he just wasn’t up to the job.

But I’ve certainly no objection when anyone wants to challenge my Christian belief system. It needs challenging. Humility is an underrated Christian virtue, which keeps you honest because one of the questions that underpins it is: “Am I doing it right?” This is why I sometimes argue that the most important line in the entirety of the Psalter is this one from Psalm 51:

The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit: a broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt thou not despise.

Part of the deal of being a good Christian, it seems to me, is this continual process of self-examination - and self-correction. In order to do that, though, it helps if you know what the deal actually is.

To pluck one of myriad examples from the ether, just how much of your prayer life should be spent venerating the Virgin? If you’re a Roman Catholic or Orthodox (who call the Virgin Mary ‘Theotokos’) the answer will be ‘lots’. But if you’re, say, a Mennonite like my recent podcast guest Terry Wolfe, or you’re a Presbyterian, or an Evangelical, you’ll counter that there is no biblical evidence that Mary is the ‘Queen of Heaven’, let alone that there was ever an Assumption.

So where does that leave you? I’m alive to both arguments, my sympathies often dependent on which person I spoke to last. My Catholic convert friend Gavin Ashenden, for example, makes a moving and beautiful case for the majesty and power of the Virgin, and the floral scent which can betray her presence. The Athonite hermit turned St Paisios was surely closer to God than most of us will ever be - and he was in no doubt of the Virgin’s significance. But suggest this to anyone who takes the Sola Scriptura line and they’ll counter that the elevation of the Virgin to quasi divine status is just rebadged pagan goddess worship. Both camps are devout and sincere. But they can’t both be right surely? And if that’s the case does that mean that one lot are going to burn in hell? Or does God allow a bit of leeway?

Well, not according to the scholarly and biblically infused Terry Wolfe who has read his scriptures closely and come to the conclusion that God is implacable and uncompromising. Which of course sets him at odds with those of the ‘God is love’ school, where Jesus makes everything nice. I know from my psalm reading (111 to be precise; or 110 if you are Catholic or Orthodox) that ‘fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’ But how much ‘fear’ exactly? And what is meant by ‘fear’, anyway.

Which brings us to another tricky issue: interpreting scripture. Sometimes, it’s pretty obvious what a Bible verse means. At others, you need to apply scholarship and background knowledge to extract the full meaning. Gavin Ashenden provides a good example of this in his superb essay on the episode in Mark 4:39 where Jesus calms the storm on the Sea of Galilee.

Contrary to what most of us might think, Ashenden explains, this is more than just a scene involving ‘an unfortunate accident of the weather.’ The clue is in the Greek.

Mark gives away the metaphysics of the scene in a single word. Describing the disciples’ struggle with the weather in the boat, he uses basanizomenous — βασανιζοµένους. This is not a nautical word. It is the exorcist’s word.

It means tormented. The disciples are being tormented by the storm.

Mark uses the same word elsewhere for the Gerasene demoniac, in Mark 5:7, where the demon cries out to Jesus,

“Do not torment me.”

Mark had perfectly ordinary vocabulary available for hard rowing and bad weather. Instead, he reaches for the word he otherwise reserves for men and spirits under the pressure of hostile power.

In the Greek, Mark is telling us this is a spiritual engagement, not a meteorological one.

When Jesus reaches the disciples, he uses the same register. He does not simply command the wind to drop; he rebukes it.

“He rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still’” -Mark 4:39.

Rebuke is the technical term for confronting an unclean spirit. It is the very word Jesus uses when he silences a demon in the Capernaum synagogue (Mark 1:25), and the word used when he casts the spirit out of the boy at the foot of the Mount of Transfiguration (Mark 9:25).

So here’s the rub: if you accept that scripture is subject to interpretation, it follows that you may need ‘experts’ to help you interpret it. But which experts? I’m a huge fan of the late Michael Heiser. (How I wish I’d been able to get him on the pod before his untimely demise!). After reading his The Unseen Realm I was very taken with his theories about the ‘Divine Council’, a kind of heavenly parliament, as hinted at in places like Psalm 82. But there are those, similarly well versed in Greek, Hebrew and scripture, who insist he has got the wrong end of the stick and has read far too much into too little. Again: which side do you choose?

These are just some of the reasons why I am wary of fellow Christians who stridently assert exactly what the deal is. ‘How do you know?’ I want to ask. ‘How can you be so sure?’

I have a lot more to say on this subject - for example, I haven’t yet mentioned my concerns about the Old Testament’s position on circumcision: why would God, having made man in His image, then insist that there was this little bit at the end of the willy chaps are born with which for some reason needed chopping off? - but unfortunately I’m about to go on holiday.

My wife is never very happy when I should be packing and instead I’m in the office tinkering with some article I should have finished days ago on my computer. I’ve just been given a five minute warning. So in the interests of domestic harmony, I’m going to publish an incomplete version and then follow it up with a part two when I get back.

In the meantime, if you’d like to read more of my musings on Christianity, here is a piece I wrote last year.

And if you want to book tickets for my live event with Feargus O’Connor Greenwood on October 8, you can get them here

Who really runs the world?

There’s a certain kind of Awake person - grown-up, superior, lightly contemptuous of Awake newbies - who thinks there’s no point in asking this question.

“We’ll never know,” says Mister Snooty Pants. “And anyway, we’ve got more important things to be getting on with. We need to be thinking about solutions, not engaging in idle speculation.”

Happily for you I am not one of those people. Being puckish, irresponsible and relentlessly curious I care very much who it is that really runs the world. Also, I’m idealistic enough to believe that the truth matters; and optimistic enough to believe that if we keep pushing hard enough one day we’ll get there.

And now, with the help of my latest podcast guest, I think we’re a few steps closer.

Mrs Heritage History - or Mrs HH, as we shall call her from now on - is a grandmother from Idaho who acquired her monicker and her field of expertise quite by accident. Her background is engineering, not the liberal arts. But after giving up her job in order to home school her kids - “I didn’t want them turning into Beavis and Butthead” - she realised she’d better start brushing up on the subjects with which she was unfamiliar. And that was the point where she made the first of many discoveries.

Her first discovery was that history books published a century or more ago are more readable, informative and probably more accurate than those published recently. (You’ll find a selection of them here at her Heritage History online library). There’s a Normie-friendly explanation for this: narrative history, which is what used to be taught, has been largely replaced by interpretative history or historiography. Instead of understanding history as a series of stories about impressive people doing interesting things, we are now encouraged to focus on boring stuff like ‘underlying forces’, gender imbalances, ancient human rights violations, and so on.

But the problem actually runs deeper than this. History really now ought to be called Airbrushistory because that what it has been doing for at least a century: concealing from us the truth about our past at the behest of the shadowy figures who’ve been running the world since time immemorial. (Of whom more in a moment).

This is a huge subject and there’s no space to get into it here. For starters try my essay“How to Murder 100 Million People and Come out Smelling of Roses”, which shows how everything we’ve been taught about the origins of the two world wars is a lie and how Establishment historians have played a big part in the cover up. If their books regularly hit the bestseller lists or if they are a history professor - especially an Oxford history professor - then they’re more likely to be serving the Lie Machine’s interests than yours.

And if most modern history is bunk imagine how much worse things get the further back we go. Institutions like the Smithsonian - I don’t doubt that its British, French and German equivalents are just as guilty - have been systematically destroying inconvenient archaeological evidence since at least the mid-19th century. This is one of those many awkward facts which simply does not compute if you are Normie. Normies have seen Indiana Jones, been to the British Museum or the Louvre and quite possibly visited the pyramids too. As a result they have formed the unshakeable conviction that archaeologists are kinda cool, museum directors are immensely learned and distinguished and dispassionate, and that ancient history is something we get closer to understanding with each passing year as more and more evidence is unearthed by teams of selfless and dedicated soil-sifters.

But they’re mistaken, obvs, as Normies are about most things. Archaeology, museums, ancient history: anyone involved in these fields at the higher levels is a professional liar, just like all palaeontologists are all professional liars. It’s the way of the world: if you want to get on you’ve got to play the game.

Here’s a recent post from Mrs HH illustrating my point:

https://substack.com/@northidaholocal/note/c-319908069

Can it really be possible that the ancient past remains so dangerous to our dark overlords that they have to conceal it from us? George Orwell - who was probably one of Them - gave the game away: “Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past.” In other words, there are secrets buried in the past which, if they got into the wrong hands - ie our hands - might make it harder for our dark overlords to keep us in check.

Yes, but WHAT, James? What?

Well, I’m guessing - and it is only a semi-educated guess - that one of them might be about their relationship to the Nephilim described in Genesis 6. The Smithsonian has been particularly assiduous in destroying all the giants’ skeletons quite frequently unearthed by Americans - and reported in local newspapers - in the 19th Century. Would this perhaps be because their bones provide physical evidence of the descendants of the interbreeding between fallen angels and the daughters of men, resulting in the so-called ‘mighty men’?

Another secret might be - as shown in revelation-of-the-method movies like the Indiana Jones series where, at the end, the Ark of the Covenant is consigned to a US government storage depot - that our ancient ancestors had access to artefacts, technologies or occultic skills which rendered them almost superhuman. There are rumours - which I’d love to explore further on a podcast if anyone can recommend someone credible - that one of the main reasons for the invasion of Iraq in the Second Gulf War was so that occultists like Hillary Clinton could get their witchy claws on the lost magical treasures of Mesopotamia. Gilgamesh’s sword, and such like.

Then, of course, there’s the possibility that there were civilisations far older than any recognised by mainstream archaeologists. Atlantis, for example, which I covered recently in a podcast episode with the charming and articulate Michael Le Flem. Or the lost ice Age civilisations championed by Graham Hancock and which I would believe in much more if a) he hadn’t been given his own series on Cabal Brainwash Central (aka Netflix) and b) didn’t appear regularly on Joe Rogan. Then again, he has been ‘debunked’ by Professor Dave, so that’s a point in his favour.

But when it comes to ‘conspiracy theories’ about our ancient past, I have yet to come upon one more plausible, compelling and erudite than the one advanced by Mrs HH, with able support from the magnificent Peter Duke.

It concerns the Phoenicians.

Now I don’t know about you but I know remarkably little about the Phoenicians. Until I read Mrs HH’s and Peter Duke’s research I had assumed that this was because they weren’t that significant: certainly not in the league of all the other ancient civilisations we’re taught about in school or which crop up everywhere from pop songs (‘Walk Like An Egyptian’, etc) to movies like Ben Hur, Spartacus, The 300, Gladiator etc.

We’re most of us so familiar with the Ancient Egyptians that we can identify their gods: Thoth with his distinctive Sacred Ibis curved beak; jackal-headed Anubis; Horus, the falcon. We know about Tutankhamen and the Mummy’s Curse. Ancient Egyptian symbols carry intellectual heft, as you can see by the way they are deployed on the niche BBC quiz show Only Connect - the hieroglyph-themed categories include ‘Horned viper’, ‘two reeds’, ‘lion’ ‘twisted flax’ etc - so that viewers can remind themselves how erudite they are in cherishing such details.

As for the Ancient Greeks and, even more so, the Romans - is there anything that we actually don’t know about them? The elite-educated among us have been trained to speak their language and quote their aphorisms. We know not just the names of their entire pantheon, but their characteristics (“grey eyed Athena”, etc). We’ve studied plays about them - Anthony and Cleopatra; Julius Caesar; maybe even Antigone - at school. We know about their history, their traditions, their battle tactics, their sexual preferences, their literature. Everyone (well, apart from me) has seen the Odyssey. Some people have even read the book.

The Phoenicians, though? There’s only one Phoenician that we’ve likely even heard of - Hannibal - and we probably didn’t even realise that Elephant Man was a Phoenician, nor that Carthage, whence he came, was one of the great Phoenician cities (along with Tyre, Sidon and - who knew? - the port in Spain the Phoenicians called Agadir and which we now call Cadiz).

Once you’re aware that Carthage was Phoenician you might manage to scrape a few other details from the recesses of your memory. The phrase “Delenda est Carthago”, for example. This was how Cato the Elder (234-149 BC) reputedly ended all his speeches in the Roman Senate. [Actually, I learn from Wikipedia, he used a less pithy phrase “Ceterum (autem) censeo Carthaginem esse delendam”, but it carries the same meaning]. It means “Carthage must be destroyed,” which gives you an idea of how little love was lost between the Romans and the Phoenicians in the days of the Republic, when they fought the Punic wars. The Roman phrase ‘Punica fides’ - ‘Punic faith’ - was synonymous with treachery.

So: Hannibal; elephants; Cannae; and a couple of Latin phrases: it’s really not much to show in the collective memory, is it, for a civilisation that dominated the Mediterranean basin for more than a thousand years? Which leads, inexorably, to one of two broad possible conclusions. The first is: “Phoenicians? Nah. Nothing to see here. They were never in the Premier League of ancient civilisations.” And the second is: “There has been a massive cover up.”

After speaking to Mrs Heritage History, I’m going with the second. We’re talking, after all, about a civilisation that: dominated the world’s trade routes; was technologically superior in many key domains from mining to navigation to shipbuilding; controlled resources including gold, silver and tin mining, as well as the Lebanon cedars used for ship-building and also the papyrus trade thanks to its literary headquarters at Byblos; was stupendously wealthy - see all of the above; dominated the world’s intelligence system, thanks to its presence in all the world’s entrepots; and almost impossible to defeat militarily because, apart from strongholds like Carthage, it held no major territory because a bit like the modern Jews (excepting the state of Israel) its people were at once everywhere and nowhere, visible and invisible.

Could a civilisation as advanced, supple, rich, sophisticated, knowledgable and ubiquitous really just have vanished into the ether?

No, of course it couldn’t and didn’t. It just went underground. This it could do thanks to another secret weapon it shares with modern Jews: matrilineal descendancy. That is, it could marry its daughters into the royal houses of all its rival civilisations, and subvert their traditions and influence their policies, without the host culture even noticing that it had fallen victim to a bloodless but hostile takeover. On the surface, the Romans would remain Roman; the Egyptians, Egyptian; the Minoans, Minoan; the Persians, Persian; and so on. Underneath, they were - not the ordinary folk, note; just the ruling elites - Phoenician.

For a truly fascinating, in-depth digression on this I cannot recommend highly enough this thoughtful essay by Thoughts From The Taverna. Taverna (as I hope he doesn’t mind me calling him for short) has noticed that the Frank Herbert series of Dune sci-fi novels tell you all about the Phoenician control structure through the ‘meta-layer’ narrative device of the Bene Gesserit. The Bene Gesserit are the ancient priestly class, all women, who secretly run the world from behind the scenes.

Here’s an extract from his piece, describing how it works:

When Mrs. Heritage History examined the genealogies embedded in ancient histories, she found patterns that certain families in Greece, Rome, and beyond traced back to Phoenician intermarriage generations earlier. Pericles, the controversial Athenian statesman, came from a family that descended from the “tyrant of Syracuse“. Tyrantbeing a Phoenician-derived term from the city-state Tyre. These were outcomes that were planned centuries earlier. Once, again, thinking in centuries not decades.

The Bene Gesserit breeding program is this practice made explicit. Thousands of years of selective pairing to produce a specific genetic outcome. The Kwisatz Haderach is the culmination. But the method which is patient, multi-generational, and hidden from those being bred are completely identical.

Besides conquest through dynastic marriage, the Phoenicians also gained power through the cruder method of bribery and corruption. This, argues Mrs HH, was how the Phoenicians took over Rome. They had lost the three Punic wars - ending with the total destruction of Carthage and, famously, the poisoning of its wells and the salting of its earth - but they won the peace by sneaking through the back door. Julius Caesar established his reputation in Phoenician-controlled Spain; later he was bankrolled by figures like Crassus - who gave us the word ‘crass’: that’s how delightful he was - who was in turn in the pocket of the Phoenicians. The civil wars which brought the Roman Republic to an end have been presented to us as a struggle between the people (represented by Julius Caesar) and the entrenched elites. But that’s the kind of positive spin you get when the victors are in control of the narrative. What those wars were really about, per Mrs HH, was a Phoenician power grab: extending the voter base beyond the Roman city to the Italian provinces (where the Phoenician influence was stronger); creating a standing army of professionals (as opposed to armed citizens) and therefore a mercenary body capable of acting against the populace’s interests.

Julius Caesar, you may or may not know, was a massive pederast, bum bandit and all round perve. This is significant because so were the Phoenicians (as, by the way, Romans generally weren’t in the days of the Republic. The debauchery came later). They raped both male and female children from a very young age; they were sexually profligate and adept (the dancing girls of Cadiz were particularly notorious: every fashionable Roman household had them at their parties); and when not having sex with their children they were busy killing them in ritual sacrifices to gods such as Baal Hammon and Tanit. As Phoenician mothers carried their first born to the slaughter, placing their child into the outstretched palms of a bull-like idol whence the infant would tumble screaming into the fire, they were expected to show no emotion. If they shed even a single tear, I learned from a podcast with Scipio Eruditus, the sacrifice would have been deemed invalid by the priests.

Up until the second half of 20th century, the Phoenicians’ penchant for human sacrifice was well understood by scholars. And by archeologists who found evidence of the murdered infants at sacrificial sites, known as tophets, everywhere from Carthage to Sicily, Sardinia and Malta. But then it became fashionable to explain away the child sacrifice as ‘racist’ propaganda on the part of the Greeks and Romans against their traditional enemies. If you want a quick chortle, do have a read of this piece in which an Oxford Classics professor, Dr Josephine Quinn, attempts to excuse child sacrifice on the grounds of autres temps, autre moeurs.

‘It’s very difficult for us to recapture people’s motivations for carrying out this practice or why parents would agree to it, but it’s worth trying. ‘Perhaps it was out of profound religious piety, or a sense that the good the sacrifice could bring the family or community as a whole outweighed the life of the child. ‘We have to remember the high level of mortality among children – it would have been sensible for parents not to get too attached to a child that might well not make its first birthday.’

Dr Quinn added: ‘We think of it as a slander because we view it in our own terms. But people looked at it differently 2,500 years ago. ‘Indeed, contemporary Greek and Roman writers tended to describe the practice as more of an eccentricity or historical oddity – they’re not actually very critical.

Yeah. That’ll be it. The reason we are disgusted with the idea of burning babies alive is because we’ve been rendered soft by low infant mortality rates and because we no longer understand how important it can be to appease the dark gods by slaughtering children at their shrines.

I wonder if Dr Quinn is herself of Phoenician heritage. She’s certainly talking like one here but probably only she and her fellow Phoenicians would know if she were. That’s how the game works: only people who are in the club know who the actual members are. The rest of us just have to rely on educated guesswork.

But there are clues. One of them concerns a phrase you quite often hear in conspiracy circles: “signs and symbols will be Their undoing.” [I’ve initial capped that pronoun as is my wont]. That’s because, as you may have noticed, They have a somewhat conflicted approach towards self-revelation. On the one hand, They like flying totally under the radar and operating in the deepest, dankest secrecy. On the other, They have to show you who They really are because Their religious obligations and Their inner sense of scornful, mocking superiority compel them to do so. They’re like James Blunt in his latest, creepy but revealing pop video.

Hence the red and white stripes on the US flag, which also appear on the East India Company flag and which also appeared on the sails of Phoenician trading vessels. Hence the Pillars of Hercules which appear on the Spanish flag, a nod to the fact that it was the Phoenicians who controlled the gateway to the Atlantic - and were likely to-ing and fro-ing to the Americas long before Columbus (which is why the Smithsonian Institute had to destroy so many of the ancient statues reported on by early European explorers of America). Hence the fact that nominally Christian countries like the US, the UK and France are yet represented by pagan goddesses - Columbia, Britannia, Marianne - who are just rebadged versions of the Phoenician goddess Astarte (aka Isis; Cybele). For more details see here.

There are clues everywhere, if you know where to look. One of the more egregious displays of Phoenician iconography can be found on the Mellon Auditorium in Washington DC. Passers-by glancing up at the pediment above this 1935 neoclassical building will likely assume that the semi-naked figures sculpted in limestone represent something wholesome and uplifting from Ancient History, befitting the US capital’s status as the New Rome. Spoiler: no they don’t. You’ll have to read The Duke Report’s essay for the full gobsmacking details. But essentially, that pediment is a paean to those delightful Phoenician practices of child-kidnapping, rape and pederasty. Which is why, argues Peter Duke, the elites use the building for enacting legislation in which the state seizes boys from their parents and sends them off to be metaphorically sodomised in the various foreign wars it has instigated.

This is an endlessly fascinating subject. Books - I hope - will be written on it because there’s so much to say and it draws together so many threads. My podcast with Mrs HH barely scratches the surface. But it will whet your appetite for further research and, I think, will go some way towards answering questions that hitherto you’ve been ill-equipped to answer. Such as the one I posed in the title about “Who Really Runs The World?”

It’s quite a divisive one in Conspiracy World because people tend to be very defensive about their preferred positions - and are correspondingly aggressive towards those who hold the ‘wrong’ view. The “it’s the Black Nobility”, “it’s the Jesuits” and “it’s the City of London” camps consider themselves mightily superior to the “it’s the Jews” camp. The “it’s the Jews” camp, meanwhile, just think the others are mealy-mouthed cowards who won’t acknowledge the Elephant in the Room. Personally, I’ve always been a bit wary about pinning my colours to any one particular mast, not so much because I’m a pusillanimous girlie but because I’ve found merit in all the different factions’ cases. What I’ve been lacking is the grand unifying conspiracy theory that enables me to have my cake and eat it by agreeing with everyone.

Now, thanks to Mrs HH’s Phoenician theory, I think I just about can. On the subject of ‘the Jews’, for example: it has always struck me as a bit desperate when people insist it’s ‘not the Jews’, when you only have to look at the banking, music and film industries to realise that it has to be, a bit. At the same time, though, the notion that it’s all ‘the Jews’ has long struck me as similarly absurd, because clearly some of the most powerful individuals and families throughout history right up to the present are not Jewish.

No, it’s not just the Black Nobility. Or the freemasons. Or the Jesuits. Or the City of London. Or the Jews. It’s ALL of them because, au fond, they are all Phoenicians.

For obvious reasons, I don’t read the Times (or the Times of London, as Americans call it). But my attention was drawn to a comment piece by one of its dripping-wet columnists blaming me - and evil climate sceptics like me - for the recent prolonged bout of hot weather.

“Where are all those climate sceptics now?”, the blanket-gnawing thumb-sucker asked rhetorically in the headline. The implication, of course, was that Global Warming was now so totally real and deadly and beyond reasonable doubt that all those fools who used to question it had by now, quite rightly, fled into hiding for fear of the righteous retribution they fully deserved for their toxic, planet-destroying denialism.

So I wrote a reply in the Spectator which gently but firmly put the bed-wetting hysteric back into his cot. Climate, I explained, is not the same thing as weather. Just because it’s sunny doesn’t mean we’re doomed. Nor should we bomb the economy back to the Dark Ages on the basis of an untested theory that the harmless trace gas CO2 might somehow be used as a control knob for world temperatures.

You’ll find the piece here, if you’re interested. It’s a quick, easy read, nicely catty in places, but I don’t think it tells you much that you don’t know already. I’ve been making these Climate 101 arguments for years, most notably in my book Watermelons, which I first published in 2012. But they’re the points you make to a Normie audience, like most of the Spectator’s readership, rather than to the kind of Awake readership I am mainly addressing here.

What I didn’t mention in the Spectator piece, because it muddies the argument, is that yes of course all this freakishly hot weather we’ve been having is man-made. But the men doing the making aren’t ordinary, decent, God-fearing folk like you and me. Rather, they are the dodgy geezers in charge of all those weather-manipulation programmes - HAARP, NEXRAD, chemtrails and so on - which the Predator Class has been using for decades now to achieve its usual nefarious ends: death, destruction, immiseration, starvation, disaster capitalism, re-zoning, etc.

You can’t talk about this stuff in the mainstream, of course, because it just makes the readers think you are a nutter.

The Powers That Be know this. That’s why whenever I write a piece like my Spectator one, there’s a character who pops up regular as clockwork in the comments section to remind everyone of my batshit crazy belief system, viz:

“James also thinks that Dinosaurs are fake, space doesn't exist, Paul McCartney died in the late 60s and the Southport killings never happened (check his X feed). He is, frankly put, completely mental.”

Comments sections, as we know, are heavily infiltrated by bots and the intelligence services (if there is any difference between the two). Their mission is to create what is known as “manufactured doubt.” [See ‘Everyone Is A Baddie’, below]

                 Everyone Is A Baddie (Apart From Me, Obviously. And Maybe Helen and Dick. You Too, Possibly, Though How Would I Know?) 25 April 2026        

This naturally invites the question: should us truth-seekers lay off the more esoteric conspiracy stuff in order to make our arguments more Normie-friendly?

I faced this dilemma when I was updating Watermelons, the book I wrote debunking the climate scare, originally published in 2012. Back then my Weltanschauung was pretty much a Normie one. Sure I sensed, not least because there was so much evidence to support it, that environmentalism was a form of elite conspiracy against ordinary folk. But there’s a lot I have discovered since which in my relatively Normie days would have struck me as outlandish.

For example, I had no idea of how big a role one family - the Rockefellers - had played in teeing up the climate scare, from the 1950s onwards. This they could do not only because of their access to virtually limitless resources, but also because they control so many institutions - newspapers, ‘scientific’ research centres, universities and so on.

Nor was I aware of the technologies which they (the global elites) have been using to manipulate weather in order to generate the headline-grabbing events - ‘wild fires’, hurricanes, floods, even earthquakes - which they then use further to ramp up the climate scare. “They’ve even got this space beam, called a Directed Energy Weapon, which they can use to zap the super yachts of inconvenient billionaires and destroy areas of Hawaii that they want to redevelop into 15 minute neighbourhoods, but which doesn’t work if you paint your roof blue,” I can imagine trying to explain to the James-Delingpole-of-ten-years ago. I doubt that he would have been terribly convinced.

And obviously I didn’t know - no Normie does: it would do their head in - that the people behind all this stuff, the tiny Cabal that runs the world, are all Satanic paedophiles.

But how much of this new information was it wise to include in my updated edition of Watermelons?

I thought long and hard about this and eventually decided: all of it.

You might wonder what relevance the Cabal’s Satanic paedophilic predilections have to a book about global warming. My rationale for this is not dissimilar to the one I offered recently to one of my podcast guests when he accused me of being ‘obsessed’ with this issue and of just using it to trawl for click-bait. Essentially, if you are fighting a war it helps if you know what makes your Enemy tick.

“But why would they do this?” is the question Normies most usually ask when you try giving them an overview of Who Really Runs The World.

Sure you could fob them off with the usual Normie-level explanations involving ‘money’ and ‘power’ but you would be doing the truth a disservice.

The people we’re talking about already have more than enough money and power. While they are not averse to acquiring more of both, neither of them is an itch they continually need to scratch. Doing evil, on the other hand, is a constant requirement in their tormented lives because the dark gods whom they serve require it of them.

Just because something is true, though, doesn’t mean that one is morally bound to mention it on every occasion. That Spectator piece I mentioned earlier provides a good example of when not to tell the whole truth. Had it said: “Global warming isn’t real because it was invented by trillionaire, child-eating Satanists who use gigantic death lasers to cause wild fires so their minions can clean up on the re-zoning and turn us all into slaves” it would likely have had fewer positive reader responses.

For some in the Awake not-a-community this is precisely why one shouldn’t waste any time writing for the mainstream media. Why involve oneself with an industry whose relentless lies and misreporting and disinformation made the Covid scam possible? Why write for an audience so wedded to the Normie paradigm that you have to pull most of your punches and muffle all your truth bombs? Why accept even a single slime-coated penny from one of the tentacular branches of the evil Beast System?

Well I don’t do it for the money, that’s for sure, because the money in journalism these days is dismal. I think I get paid less now for the fortnightly TV column I’ve been writing in the Spectator since 1997 than I did when I started it.

Rather I do it because it enables me to reach an audience who would never otherwise see my stuff because they don’t move in conspiracy circles. Yes, by and large you could call them Normies. But so are the vast majority of people in the world. And I don’t believe that the fact they think wrong things about most stuff is sufficient reason to write them out of my existence.

Whenever I read one of my more hardcore fellow conspiracy loons railing against Normies - how disgustingly fully-jabbed they are, how spectacularly they shat the bed during ‘covid’, how quick they were to demand that we Awake folk should be excluded or defunded or even imprisoned for refusing to submit to an experimental medical intervention - I think: “Yeah. We all know this. But what you’re doing is like picking on a kid with Down’s Syndrome.”

As Jesus almost said, the Normies will always be with us. Some of them are members of our families. Others of them are our friends. Others are the kind of randoms with whom one might find oneself trapped at a house party in August in a particularly remote part of Scotland.

To you, O pure ones, this may afford the perfect opportunity to demonstrate just how selfless and committed you really are. No more birthday cards for, or interactions of any kind with, family members who persist in believing that 9/11 was planned by a bearded man in an Afghan cave. No more friendships with anyone who calls them ‘contrails.’ As for that Scottish house party - let conviviality and generosity be damned: spoiling 15 other people’s holiday is a small price to pay for the ongoing fulfilment of your holy mission to enlighten the world as to the non-existence of viruses.

To me, though, this is snobbish zealotry. Apart from the fact that I don’t at all hate Normies - I just feel a bit sorry for them - I am averse to living in a world of self-enforced isolationism where the only people I talk to are the ones who more or less agree with me. Isolationism strikes me as the kind of behaviour one might expect from the evil elites we’re trying to overthrow. “Oh you mustn’t associate yourself with them. They are the profane. They are not privy to the recondite knowledge that makes us special,” is what Awake purity spirallers are basically telling us. Excuse me? Really?? Well if that’s the deal then I can’t see how our New Jerusalem is going to be a significant improvement on Their New World Order.

So this why I still write - though not very often, it must be said - for the mainstream media. But it’s a tricky balancing act. Part of my schtick throughout my writing career has been always to tell my readership exactly what I think. And you can no longer do that when you’re an Awake person writing for a Normie audience, because your basic assumptions are so very different. For example, when I’m writing for an Awake audience, I can take it as read that almost no one will believe in Evolutionary Theory and that quite a few of them will recognise it as a freemasonic conspiracy in which the devious, hypochondriacal, 33rd degree freemason Darwin was, of course, a leading player. But a Normie readership would consider such things anathema. They’ve been trained to think of Darwin as one of the greatest heroes of English history and of evolution as being so well established that it’s no longer theoretical. Diss Darwin - (unless the whole point of the piece was dissing Darwin, in which case you’d have no choice) - and you’d lose your audience as quickly as if you’d told them that ‘Shakespeare’ is evil and that anyway he wasn’t even the author, even though both those things are the case.

One of the most painful lessons I’ve learned in the public speaking side of my career is the importance of assessing your audience. Misjudge their tastes and you die horribly and might as well not have bothered. The same is true of writing. That’s why, whenever I write for the mainstream media I try not to mention that we haven’t been to the moon till at least the second or third paragraph. I’m a bit like a crocodile stalking a herd of migrating wildebeest gingerly approaching my river, aware that the slightest untoward move could frighten one and cause the whole lot to stampede on top of me. ‘Don’t frighten the wildebeest!’ as I am ever wont to say.

My problem here is that I have an incorrigible streak of mischievousness. In the TV column, for example, which I write once a fortnight I try to act as if I don’t know that TV is a gigantic brainwashing device and that all drama is a form of social control. But occasionally I just can’t help myself from slipping in cheeky insider references to characters like Alan Watt, whom nobody save fellow conspiracy loons will ever have heard of. I suppose it’s the equivalent of all those one-eye gestures and triangle hand shapes and so on that actors and politicians and churchmen use to signal to one another that they are members of the Big Club. But unlike the Big Club members I’m not doing it to get a hit of adrenochrome or promotion higher up the ladder leading to Satan’s arse. I just want to read someone in the comments section going: “Yes, James, I got it and I’m totally with you. I’ve been reading you for years and I’ve followed you down the rabbit hole. Keep doing what you are doing!” [I do actually get such messages sometimes. But not as often as I’d like].

But, as usual, I digress. We were talking, you may remember, about global warming. And we were wondering how much it’s safe to tell the children - aka the Normies - about this jolly important subject. Should one stick to the old arguments with which they are comfortably familiar - natural cycles, etc? Or should one try to move the discussion on and red pill them into realising that the climate industrial complex is more malign than they could have realised in their wildest dreams?

For reasons already stated, I’m going mainly with the first option. Take the win! Be happy and grateful how many people out there in the mainstream who now recognise that climate change is a hoax! Their profound climate scepticism may - who knows? - be their gateway drug to ever-increasing Awakeness.

The argument against this policy, though, is that to a degree you end up doing the Enemy’s work for them. That is, They don’t want you talking about chemtrails, HAARP, NEXRAD, Directed Energy Weapons, ‘elite’ depravity, Rockefellers, Satanic Ritual Abuse, etc so, by self-censoring, you are sort of surrendering to their evil will.

Also, if you form too close an alliance with mainstream climate scepticism you find yourself with some awkward bedfellows. This is why I don’t maintain much contact with the old chums who, five or ten years ago, I would have considered my staunchest allies in the great climate wars. It’s not that we’ve fallen out, exactly. It’s more that we’ve developed irreconcilable differences on certain other issues.

One of my old sceptic chums, for example, has been vigorously pushing the lab-leak theory on ‘Covid’ and has even written a book about it. I think this is an utterly bollocks theory - an Establishment cover-up narrative posing as dogged truth-seeking. But I wouldn’t want to say this to his face because it would be just rude.

Another is a rabid zionist. In fact, I’m guessing most of them probably would be if you asked them.

Quite a few - I can think of at least four - claim that chemtrails don’t exist and have been known to post about it on Twitter in a most annoying way.

But I’m not going to name and shame these people. I don’t understand this game we are apparently required to play where every time a Normie says something wrong and stupid we have to beat them to death with our pram toys. Who made that the rule, anyway? Why aren’t we allowed to do what I generally do in these situations, which is to roll my eyes, mutter “Twat!” at whoever has said the wrong and stupid thing, and then forget about it so I can move on to something more important? As I’ve said before and I’ll say again: Don’t feed the demons!

Anyway, while I’ve got you, if I’ve still got you, I’d like to borrow your crowd-sourcing services for a moment, if I may. I’m interested in hearing from any of you who can cast light on the phenomenon of man-made wild fires, like the ones at Lahaina and Pacific Palisades, and like the ones that nearly destroyed my mother’s house at Stourbridge in the West Midlands last week.

The “official” conspiracy theory on the Stourbridge fires is that they were started by kids inspired by some crazy new TikTok trend. But “kids following crazy new TikTok trend” sounds like a case of plausible deniability to me. Correct me if I am wrong but are not most of these so-called ‘wild fires’ actually started by arsonists in the pay of redevelopers who are in turn run by the Cabal? Is it even possible for a ‘wild fire’ to be started by, say, a broken bottle? [I mean broken glass isn’t like a magnifying glass, is it? Is this perhaps one of those urban myths They sow in our imaginations to make us more susceptible to the idea that ‘wild fires’ are caused by ‘careless’ picnickers, smokers and such like?] And to what extent do They now rely on Directed Energy Weapons these days? Or is it still mainly Old School: bloke in hoodie with matches and a can of petrol?