The Jewish War on White Australia: The Anti-Defamation Commission and “Click Against Hate,” Part 3 of 4

Brenton Sanderson


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EXCERPT 3: “I was brought up in a racist country”

Brett Kaye: So somebody asked the question of whether I was brought up in a racist household. The answer is no. But I was brought up in a racist country.

Child: What country’s that?

Brett Kaye: I grew up in South Africa, and let me tell you how it is racist. When I was your age …, I grew up in a political system that was called this…

Child: Apartheid? …

 

Brett Kaye: You remember me from last year. So, apartheid, made up of two words in a language called Afrikaans which is kinda like Dutch, means separate-ness. And what apartheid meant, realistically, was because I’m a white fella, life for me was good. A-OK. It meant I would live in the best areas of the city, it meant I could go to the beach (other people couldn’t), it meant people who were white went to white schools, Indians went to Indian schools, blacks went to black schools. Whites lived in black… in white neighborhoods, Indians in Indian neighborhoods, blacks in black neighborhoods. When I was at the park there was a park bench that said [banging the table] “White People Only.” Public transport? There was a bus just for white people, a bus just for Indian people, and a bus just for black people.

Child: Isn’t Indian black?

Brett Kaye: Nup. They were considered to be three separate classifications, Hospitals for white people, hospitals just for Indian people, hospitals just for black people. Black people and White people were not allowed to get married, were not allowed to live in the same house. … What it meant was that white kids and black kids and Indian ones would never ever spend time together because they weren’t allowed to be in the same areas. How do you think a White kid your age, a black kid your age would have felt about white people. Think about it. How do you think black kids who lived two hours out, who lived in houses with no electricity, no running water, no power, made their houses out of whatever materials they could find around? How would that black kid feel about white kids?

Child: Spoilt or jealous?

Brett Kaye: That they were spoilt, that they were jealous, and what does jealousy lead to?

Child: Hate?

Brett Kaye: Hate. There was a lot of hate. What do you think a white kid might have felt about a black kid? Yeah…

Child: Maybe they thought that it was unfair and feel sorry.

Brett Kaye: Maybe. Sorry for them. What do you think maybe if I said to my parents “I want to go hang out two hours away in this neighborhood?” What do you think my parents might have said to me?

Child: No

Brett Kaye: Why?

Child: Because they’re a black person?

Brett Kaye: So they wouldn’t have wanted me to hang out with a black kid because it wasn’t the right thing to do. Hang out with black kids. So there was a lot of racial hatred happening.

Kaye gives the misleading impression that White South Africans simply stole all of the housing, electricity, running water and other infrastructure that existed in South Africa and selfishly hoarded it for themselves, rather than being responsible for the creation of these things which never previously existed in southern Africa. For Kaye, apartheid South Africa was “racist” because “Black and White people were not allowed to get married.” Somehow, the prohibition of marriage between Jews and non-Jews in Israel (which is subject to a two-year prison term), the walls of separation between Palestinians and Israelis on the West Bank, and the different legal treatment forPalestinians and Israelis don’t render that state “racist,” but is an indispensable part of the Jewish people’s right to “self-determination.” Read more »

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Serena, Ingrid, and the Story of My Time

The August, 2017 issue of Vanity Fair magazine has the naked and very pregnant tennis star Serena Williams on the cover.   When I saw it, a thought flashed to my mind: “Ingrid Bergman wasn’t naked on the cover of Life in Dad’s shop.”   I’ll explain.

My dad was a barber in downtown Saint Paul, Minnesota.   This was back around 1950; I was a little kid.   Dad’s shop—Walt’s Barber Shop—had magazines on a small table for his customers to read while they were waiting for their haircuts.  Among them was Life, a popular magazine like Vanity Fair is today, lots of photographs, news of the day, profiles.  The Paramount movie theater next door gave Dad free passes to its movies for having a sign in his shop advertising the current feature.  Mother, Dad, and I used to go to the movie that was showing at the Paramount just about every week.

One early evening when we went to the Paramount to go to the movie, there were eight or ten people with picket signs marching back and forth in front of the theater—don’t go to this movie.   I didn’t catch on to the details, but I knew it had to do with the actress Ingrid Bergman, who was starring in the movie and very big at the time—Casablanca, etc.—doing something really bad.   What it was, I later found out, was she had had an illegitimate child with the film director Roberto Rossellini; both of them were married to other people at the time.  The outrage over that had led people to picket her movies.   It was a major scandal.  She was denounced on the floor of the U.S. Senate no less—“moral turpitude” and so on (see Marlow Stern, “When Congress Slut-Shamed Ingrid Bergman”).

Flash forward from the beginning of my life to now, near its end, and there’s unmarried, unclothed, and sort of overwhelmingly pregnant Serena Williams—the father, Alexis Ohanian, co-founder of Reddit—on the cover of Vanity Fair. No way, adultery a part of it or not, that Ingrid Bergman would have been naked and pregnant with Roberto Rossellini’s child on the cover of one of Dad’s Life magazines. 

The cover article in Vanity Fair by Buzz Bissinger doesn’t condemn Serena, just the opposite, and illegitimacy never comes up.   Its beginning gives a sense of the direction it takes:

This is a love story.

It wasn’t seamless, starry eyes at first light.  There was a discovery, unexpected and shocking.   There were moments of really getting pissed and the standard irritation that comes when one half of the whole kept leaving the suitcase in the hallway.  But there were also moments of unplanned intimacy that is the only true kind of intimacy in a love story, soft touches and laughter and absurdity, because you need absurdity in a love story, since love is slightly absurd anyway, a feeling that, like eternity, is indefinable.

I’ve checked into it, and that’s certainly not how they wrote about Ingrid Bergman and Roberto Rossellini (including using words like “pissed” and writing under names like “Buzz”),

Also, the author of a Life magazine article back then would have kept his sexual preferences to himself, unlike Buzz Bissinger, who has made known to all his cross dressing (“the right foundation and cheek blush and eyeliner and lipstick can do wonders for the pallid complexion”) and his encounters with a dominatrix (leather is “irresistible,” as are “extreme feelings of restraint and taking pain”).

And it should be noted that if there had been a racial element to the Ingrid Bergman affair (Williams is black, Ohanian white), it would have been front and center in the Life magazine article, with the word “miscegenation” in there somewhere.  Race is never mentioned in Vanity Fair.

What am I left with?  That a naked, pregnant Ingrid Bergman on the cover of Life magazine along with a fawning cover article about her wasn’t in my dad’s barber shop, and now would be, sums up the progress, regression, however you want to look at it, that’s taken place over the span of my life.  And that how that happened is the big story of my time on earth.