Post by Kiwi Frontline on Jun 8, 2023 16:14:04 GMT 12
P H writes > “ME WARRIOR!”
“There’s a culture of violence that runs through Maoridom” – Alan Duff
According to census data, around 16% of New Zealanders are [part-] Maori.
Let's assume 20% are subbos.
This means 3.2% of New Zealanders are responsible for more than 50% of the prison muster.
A certain subgroup making up the lower orders of [part-] Maoridom is clearly incapable of conforming to the norms of a civilised society in terms of respecting the persons and property of fellow-citizens.
There is a disproportionately brown, intergenerationally welfare-addicted underclass in this country. They don't work, but believe themselves to be entitled to everything those who do work get to buy for themselves.
They’re told by their 'leaders' that the results of hard work, thrift, and personal enterprise are not a function of personal responsibility, but of "white privilege.'
Bollocks!
If you grow up in a household in which you never see an adult getting up in the morning to go to work, and the only sources of income are crime and benefits, the apple rarely falls far from the tree.
Monkey see, monkey do.
Ditto with violence and sexual violence.
We all know who these people are.
We may even – regrettably – be related to some of them.
My explanation you won't read in a book.
Natural selection over centuries of inter-tribal warfare meant the small, the weak, the sensitive, and the contemplative soon ended up in the hangi pit. Only the strong and brutal survived to pass their genes and values on to succeeding generations.
The only universally acknowledged system of laws in pre-European Maori society was "te rau o te patu" or "the law of the club."
Might makes "right."
So a "real man" does what he wants, takes what he wants.
Allan Duff paints a candid picture of such throwbacks in “Once Were Warriors.”
All the talk between the bros is about fistic prowess, who "smacked over" whom.
A big arm trumps a big heart or a big brain.
The response of these subbos to being cornered or thwarted in a debate is always gutter cursing, often followed by threats and invitations to fisticuffs.
As someone of peripherally Maori descent who identifies only as a New Zealander, my observation is the more "Maori" someone is, the more they tend to define themselves by how much of other people's space they can aggressively invade and occupy. Women, children, anyone whom the inwardly insecure brown boy thought gave him a "smart look" when he has his bros to back him up.
This "a man takes what he wants, does what he wants" attitude underlies the rape culture and culture of violence that undoubtedly exists in the lower orders of [part-] Maoridom.
As one of Allan Duff's characters says in a rare moment of introspection: "Us Maoris, we love our staunchness. Dunno why, juss is."
I can explain.
These are losers and non-achievers whose only turangawaewae is acting the tougharse.
People with no intellectual or cultural achievements of wider importance in the world have nothing to fall back on but "Me Warrior!"
That's why Maori Television promos invariably feature aggressive group hakas by way of group self-definition.
And why Anzac Day on Maori Television is a self-congratulatory circle jerk celebration of the exploits of the Maori Battalion, as though only those boys served with bravery and distinction, those boys won the war on their own, and many New Zealanders of Maori descent didn't choose to serve in non-racial units with their fellow-countrymen.
Since Maori culture cannot point to a single discovery or invention that has come out of it to the betterment of mankind, all its adherents have to stand on is a tougharse rep. And some of those schoolyard bullies went from gang-bullying the Pakeha kids for a sandwich or a “smart look” to gang-bullying the grown-up Pakeha for a Treaty settlement.
One fellow with whom I’ve crossed swords online has a profile pic showing the males in the whanau striking staunch poses and showing off medals presumably won at amateur boxing.
Nothing wrong with sports at all. Many in my family (myself included) have participated in various sports to at least provincial age group representative level. But if my family were to publish a group photograph of what we most identified with having achieved as a family, it would be a bunch of people in academic dress brandishing our university degrees.
See my point?
The ability to punch the shit out of someone is no measure of the man where I come from.
The dynamic I have observed in many of the more "Maori" whanau (and many of the more "Maori" male mateship circles) is that of a dog pack. There's a "top dog" based on who can throw his fists around the best and hardest. Everyone else in the pack knows their place in the pecking order: who they get to growl and snarl at, and who they have to kiss up to. And how to gang up to pile onto outsiders.
{Part-] Maori thugs and bullies have learned from birth that one moves up the dog pack ladder by being more ruthless and brutal than those whom you intend to supplant.
And then they bring “Me Warrior!” to our schools; to our streets, and to our pubs, late night takeaway bars, roads, and gas station forecourts.
Simple as that.
ENDS
“There’s a culture of violence that runs through Maoridom” – Alan Duff
According to census data, around 16% of New Zealanders are [part-] Maori.
Let's assume 20% are subbos.
This means 3.2% of New Zealanders are responsible for more than 50% of the prison muster.
A certain subgroup making up the lower orders of [part-] Maoridom is clearly incapable of conforming to the norms of a civilised society in terms of respecting the persons and property of fellow-citizens.
There is a disproportionately brown, intergenerationally welfare-addicted underclass in this country. They don't work, but believe themselves to be entitled to everything those who do work get to buy for themselves.
They’re told by their 'leaders' that the results of hard work, thrift, and personal enterprise are not a function of personal responsibility, but of "white privilege.'
Bollocks!
If you grow up in a household in which you never see an adult getting up in the morning to go to work, and the only sources of income are crime and benefits, the apple rarely falls far from the tree.
Monkey see, monkey do.
Ditto with violence and sexual violence.
We all know who these people are.
We may even – regrettably – be related to some of them.
My explanation you won't read in a book.
Natural selection over centuries of inter-tribal warfare meant the small, the weak, the sensitive, and the contemplative soon ended up in the hangi pit. Only the strong and brutal survived to pass their genes and values on to succeeding generations.
The only universally acknowledged system of laws in pre-European Maori society was "te rau o te patu" or "the law of the club."
Might makes "right."
So a "real man" does what he wants, takes what he wants.
Allan Duff paints a candid picture of such throwbacks in “Once Were Warriors.”
All the talk between the bros is about fistic prowess, who "smacked over" whom.
A big arm trumps a big heart or a big brain.
The response of these subbos to being cornered or thwarted in a debate is always gutter cursing, often followed by threats and invitations to fisticuffs.
As someone of peripherally Maori descent who identifies only as a New Zealander, my observation is the more "Maori" someone is, the more they tend to define themselves by how much of other people's space they can aggressively invade and occupy. Women, children, anyone whom the inwardly insecure brown boy thought gave him a "smart look" when he has his bros to back him up.
This "a man takes what he wants, does what he wants" attitude underlies the rape culture and culture of violence that undoubtedly exists in the lower orders of [part-] Maoridom.
As one of Allan Duff's characters says in a rare moment of introspection: "Us Maoris, we love our staunchness. Dunno why, juss is."
I can explain.
These are losers and non-achievers whose only turangawaewae is acting the tougharse.
People with no intellectual or cultural achievements of wider importance in the world have nothing to fall back on but "Me Warrior!"
That's why Maori Television promos invariably feature aggressive group hakas by way of group self-definition.
And why Anzac Day on Maori Television is a self-congratulatory circle jerk celebration of the exploits of the Maori Battalion, as though only those boys served with bravery and distinction, those boys won the war on their own, and many New Zealanders of Maori descent didn't choose to serve in non-racial units with their fellow-countrymen.
Since Maori culture cannot point to a single discovery or invention that has come out of it to the betterment of mankind, all its adherents have to stand on is a tougharse rep. And some of those schoolyard bullies went from gang-bullying the Pakeha kids for a sandwich or a “smart look” to gang-bullying the grown-up Pakeha for a Treaty settlement.
One fellow with whom I’ve crossed swords online has a profile pic showing the males in the whanau striking staunch poses and showing off medals presumably won at amateur boxing.
Nothing wrong with sports at all. Many in my family (myself included) have participated in various sports to at least provincial age group representative level. But if my family were to publish a group photograph of what we most identified with having achieved as a family, it would be a bunch of people in academic dress brandishing our university degrees.
See my point?
The ability to punch the shit out of someone is no measure of the man where I come from.
The dynamic I have observed in many of the more "Maori" whanau (and many of the more "Maori" male mateship circles) is that of a dog pack. There's a "top dog" based on who can throw his fists around the best and hardest. Everyone else in the pack knows their place in the pecking order: who they get to growl and snarl at, and who they have to kiss up to. And how to gang up to pile onto outsiders.
{Part-] Maori thugs and bullies have learned from birth that one moves up the dog pack ladder by being more ruthless and brutal than those whom you intend to supplant.
And then they bring “Me Warrior!” to our schools; to our streets, and to our pubs, late night takeaway bars, roads, and gas station forecourts.
Simple as that.
ENDS