SOCIAL ACTIVITY. In July, members of Nest 2 met up for a couple of days’ hiking, fishing and socializing in the Swedish woods. This article is written by a member who was born and recently lived in Great Britain. This is his perspective as a new member and, more interestingly, as a foreigner.
There’s a certain irony in having to come to a foreign country in order to be a nationalist. And being a foreigner in a nationalist group, I was certainly expecting a bit more scepticism regarding my involvement. But, on the contrary, I’ve instead been welcomed in with open arms, thanks partly to me already having friends within the movement, no doubt.
But when I was asked if I wanted to join a few members of the nest on a hike through the woods, I had no boots, no hiking bag, no supplies, and no money to get any. I would obviously be a complete lunatic to agree to come along. So of course, I agreed to come along without hesitation.
When we arrived in the beautiful Swedish woodlands, our group leader pointed out a spot on the map that we could set up camp, start a fire, and possibly even fish. So the hiking began immediately. It was all a bit of a blur, taking in the new sights as we marched our way down to our destination.
Along the way, I was absolutely awestruck at the views. I had never seen anything that could compare to this beautiful country. As we looked out from the mountain over onto the lake, I thought that I was dreaming. For an Englishman like me, used to an overcrowded island with miserable weather all year round, seeing the glistening blue lake from the top of the mountain was like something you would see on the back of a postcard, not something you would expect to see in real life.
In my country, we have what are called “Green Belts,” which are legally protected areas of natural land around cities, that are not allowed to be built on or destroyed. And now, in Manchester for example, our own government has illegally stripped back a third of the Green Belts and built new homes for migrants. This is happening across the entire country, as Britain becomes more and more overcrowded.
But if you were to bring up this point with a leftist, a so-called “environmentalist,” then they don’t want to discuss it. The natural ecosystem that they claim to be some kind of vanguards for, they themselves are destroying in order to build homes for the racial strangers they’re bringing into our country.
While I know that Sweden is obviously not in the same conditions right now, due to it being a large country with a relatively low population, that will change. Your country will go the way of Britain, and destroy its own beautiful landscapes in order to house their pet immigrants. And after seeing the beyond beautiful views in Sweden, I understand more than ever that it cannot ever be allowed to happen.
One particular view that will stay in my mind until the day I die was, after two days of hiking, fighting a nearly constant uphill struggle in the hottest heat I have ever been in, our group leader pointed out that there was an island in the middle of the lake we were heading towards. There was a cabin on that island that we might be able to stay in, so we marched from the top of the hill down to the lake, and found the island. There was a boat by the side of a small pier that was for hire, so we rented out the boat and the cabin for the night, then made our way across the lake. The little rowing boat couldn’t fit us all in, so we went a few at a time. We then walked up to the little cabin, and decided to try and catch some fish.
A few hours pass, and our fishing was unsuccessful, but we had a few things to eat, so we tucked in. We spent the remainder of the night whittling away at pieces of wood to make spoons, and sitting by the fire.
Looking through this great, glorious fire and out onto the crystal clear lake, as the moon rose up in the sky, and was perfectly reflected in the water.
Sat there, with men I now know that I can call my brothers, talking about the history of our countries, and where said histories overlap. Having a laugh, joking, but most of all, looking out onto this lake from our little island. It was like the world was ours. On that little island, there were no “modern problems.” There were no racial strangers (unless you want to count an Anglo and an American, but that’s a debate for another time), and there were no banks or shopping centres or police harassing us, nothing. It was only us. For a short while, basking in the pure white glow of the beautiful moon, we had an island to ourselves. That island, for all intents and purposes, for the duration of the time we were its inhabitants, was its own nation. Our nation. A true National Socialist land in the middle of the woods. Standing in front of that fire under that moon, I have never felt closer to my ancestors. And there was something surreal about being in Sweden, looking out across a clear lake, with other National Socialists, talking about what brought me to Sweden, and what brought me to the movement in the first place.
While gathered around the fire, we spoke about the state of my country, and of British Nationalism as a whole. I feel that it’s good to talk about nationalist movements in our home countries. What they get right, what they get wrong, and how we can learn from that going forward.
Unfortunately, there was not a lot of positives to discuss regarding modern British nationalism. With the BNP (British National Party) becoming more anti-Islam than pro-white, and the inward collapse and split of the group because of it, we eventually ended up with the EDL (English Defence League) becoming the “forefront” of the British right wing. Unfortunately a bunch of racial strangers and zionists. And there’s a reason for that, but that’s another story.
And, going back to the hike, what the Nordic Resistance Movement (NRM) also has is brotherhood and unity, not just on a group-wide level, but within the nests and within the groups and individuals. Never before have I been able to so quickly call someone my brother. During the course of the hike, we came to rely on one another constantly. While we all had our own bags, there was also another shared bag that we would rotate between every 20 minutes. Doesn’t sound like much, but it quickly became difficult when climbing up the steep terrain. We all had to do our bit and heave it along, and none of us got off easy. It may sound like something small, but sharing that burden meant we had to work as a team no matter what.
When we went out fishing, we took it in turns to row the boat out into the lake.
Eventually, after a few days carrying that weight everywhere with us, up the steep and challenging terrain, under constant assault from bugs and from the burning sun on our backs, we decided to use a stick, that we had originally whittled into a spear, in order to carry the bag on our shoulders between the two of us at a time. And while we had the space on the gravel roads, we could use two of these quasi-spears and four of us could carry it together.
It kept us marching at the same pace. And when the two of us at the front decided we wanted to sprint up the hill, that was exactly what we would do. It kept us tight and unified, and reminded me very much of my time doing weighted marches in the British Army, only these truly meant something. It’s one thing to run uphill with weight, struggling with every step, because you and your co-workers with you are being ordered to. But it’s another thing entirely to summon up the strength, after days hiking up and down hills and mountains, and voluntarily run at full pelt with your brothers. You’re coughing and spluttering and you feel like shit the whole time, but it’s the collective struggle that makes it worth it. Not only was it helping keep us fit, but suffering through hardships as a team, no matter how small, help build those bonds.
When two of us had exhausted our food supply save for some dried granola, and our stomachs were being wracked by the terror of some horrific canned beans that we had both eaten, we realised that our lack of money and lack of preparation meant that we had at least two full days of pure suffering. But, when other members of our group gave us their spare MREs that they had brought, we had found salvation. Reindeer stew, chicken tikka and chilli con carne between the two of us. A small feast, but having eaten very little in the previous days, we wolfed it down like there was no tomorrow.
And was moments like that when we knew we could count on the men by our side to help pull us through tough times. They were under no obligation to help us, and we in our pride would never have asked, but they noticed we were hungry and they helped us out because of it.
Eating MREs with our carved spoons, sat outside our camp and the lads came up with some games to teach us some Swedish. They were hit and miss in terms of actually teaching us anything, but they were fun, and we certainly appreciated the effort. And all this for men who had been, up until this point, not only strangers but foreigners. But being National Socialists, that bond of brotherhood outweighed anything else.
It is a point of pride that I can call myself a member of a movement that has brotherhood so tightly interwoven within its fabric. If the movement itself were to suddenly no longer exist, then the bonds that hold us together as brothers and as National Socialists would rebuild it near instantaneously. For us, we are motivated by our blood, our cause, and more often than not, our Gods. Our enemies are motivated by money and money alone, and that is quickly running dry. For us, it is an honour to bleed for our race, and our brothers. For them, no such idea exists. They will break before we do. When all that binds groups like antifa is their hatred for us, then they have no foundation. They have no brotherhood. Because if antifa didn’t exist, then we would still be National Socialists. But if National Socialism ceases to exist, antifa wouldn’t have anything to do. Their “brotherhood” and “comradeship” is built on something that they themselves claim to be transient, which is us.
Our group, sat around an open fire on an island in the middle of the lake, whittling spoons from pieces of wood that were lying around. Looking out onto the beautiful pale waters as the sun set in the sky. It was absolutely breathtaking. And the men there sharing that view with me, while I may not have known them for long, they were then and are now my brothers. In those moments I knew beyond all doubt that I would take a bullet for any of them, and be proud to do so. Those are the bonds that will make us unshakeable when the time truly comes. We will be rocks against which the enemies waves will crash, and we will be unmoved.
And these hikes, and nest days, and all activities that may seem trivial to some, are all incredibly important. I have not known any movement with this kind of internal activism, that keeps its members on their toes and interacting with one another. So I implore anyone who is less engaged with these activities, please attend more and more. These small steps are what turn groups into organisations, and the NRM understands that.
The NRM has the ability to learn from the mistakes of other groups and movements, and constantly adapt to go forward without compromising any of its ideology or beliefs. The fact that I myself have been able to drop everything in my home country and move here to become part of it shows something very promising for the future. It could well be the beginning of a new era for the NRM, in which we as a movement spread all throughout Europe, or recruit members from those different countries.
But I can only speculate. The point is, the NRM is proving time and time again that it is capable of rolling with whatever punches the modern world throws at it, while remaining uncompromising in its beliefs. And that, I think, is real hope for the future of Europe, and the future of our race.