“Age after age, when justice is crushed, when evil rules supreme, I come; again I take birth on earth to save the world.”
“Ein ganzes Volk, eine ganze Nation fühlt sich heute stark und glücklich, weil in Ihnen diesem Volk nicht nur der Führer, weil in Ihnen diesem Volk auch der Retter erstanden ist.”
Gods—i.e., divinely inspired supermen—are not born on earth every day, nor every century. And when they do come, and live and act in their miraculous manner, not every man, not every nation recognises them. Blessed is the nation who follows to the bitter end the divine men born in her midst, and who, whether in victory or disaster, clings to their spirit! That nation will triumph over the forces of death, in the long run, and thrive in beauty, strength, and joy, while the rest of the ungrateful world lies in waste at her feet.
Thirty years ago, one could have believed that the days of the Gods were over forever; that the promise given to the world in the Book of books—the Bhagavad-Gita—was never again to be fulfilled; that mankind, day by day more degenerate, more bastardized, stupider, sicklier, uglier, had become incapable of producing an Individual worthy of carrying out a divine mission on an international scale. Both in the East and in the West, even the superior races were, or seemed to be, in full decay, nay, completely exhausted; nearing their end.
But the message of the triumph of life, over and over again—God’s promise—can never fail. The words spoken by the world’s eternal Sustainer, no one remembers when, in Kurukshetra:3 “I come again . . . ,” were not spoken in vain. They hold good for all times, and for all lands in which a truly noble race, however tired, however overwhelmed by the darkening shadow of death, is still alive enough to bear witness
1 The Bhagavad-Gita, 4:7–8
2 “A whole people, a whole nation feels strong and fortunate today, for in you not only a leader but also a saviour has arisen” (Speech in Nuremberg, 15 September 1935) [Trans. by Ed.].
3 The famous battlefield in ancient India, where the words in the Bhagavad-Gita were spoken.
to their accomplishment; to marvel and to adore; and to rise at the bidding of the returning Saviour. “When justice is crushed, when evil rules supreme”—when all hope seems irretrievably lost—the Saviour is already there, waiting, unnoticed among the crowd; ready to reveal Himself.
At the close of the First World War, out of prostrate Germany, rose the Man destined to infuse a new strength and a new pride, to breathe a new joyful life, not only into his own people, but into the racial élite of the whole world; the greatest European of all times: Adolf Hitler. Alone, with no other riches but the love of his great heart, an indomitable will, and the intuition of things eternal; with no other strength but the compelling power of truth; with no other help but that of the invisible Gods, whose Chosen One he was, he accomplished what no man could have even dreamed. Not only did he raise Germany out of poverty, servitude, and demoralisation—out of the dust—once more to the rank of a great Power, but he made her the herald of a splendid idea of everlasting and universal scope. For a few brief years—until international Jewry succeeded in stirring against him the forces of the stupid majority of mankind—he was able to show the world the masterpiece of his creative genius: a super-civilisation, materially perfect, and, at the same time, inspired with a faith in the superior values of life, conscious of life’s true purpose, as no other had yet ever been, even in Antiquity; the first step towards the New Order in Europe, forerunner of a new “age of truth” in the evolution of the world; that glory that was National Socialist Germany.
Had Germany emerged victorious from the Second World War, and imposed Hitler’s dream upon the whole of the earthly sphere—or had there been no war, and had the Idea conquered ground slowly and steadily, through the sole strength of its appeal to the natural aristocracy of humanity—what a wonderful place this planet would have become, in less than a generation or two! We would then have witnessed the intelligent rule of the best, over a world organised according to that selfsame spirit in which the fair, strong and wise conquerors—the Aryans, or “noble ones”—organised India (that land of many races) in the far-gone days when the Nordic pride was still vivid in their hearts, along with the memory of their distant Arctic home.
We would have seen the natural hierarchy of human races—and individuals—part and parcel of the natural hierarchy of beings, ordained by the Sun, restored and maintained, stressed by law, exalted, in a reinstalled natural religion, wherever, in the words of the
Bhagavad-Gita, “the corruption of women has brought forth the confusion of castes”; a truly “new earth and new heaven”; the rebirth of the world under the Sign of the Sun.
Men were too stupid and too vulgar to feel the beauty of that dream. The world—the Aryan race itself, at large—refused the gift of Hitler’s love and genius, and repaid him with the darkest ingratitude. Few of the great Ones have been so mercilessly vilified as he, by their worthless contemporaries. Not one has been so utterly misunderstood, so systematically betrayed, and, above all, so widely hated.
Now—outwardly at least—the agents of disintegration have had their way. Proud and beautiful National Socialist Germany lies in ruins; hundreds of Hitler’s most active collaborators are dead; thousands are living, in captivity, a life worse than death. And the millions who acclaimed him only a few years ago with an enthusiasm amounting to adoration, are now silent. “Es ist das Land der Angst”—“this is the land of fear”—were the words addressed to me in Saarbrücken, in 1948, as the summary of the whole situation in occupied Germany. And no one knows where Hitler is, if still alive.
Yet, the National Socialist creed, based upon truths as old as the Sun, can never be blotted out. Living or dead, Adolf Hitler can never die. And sooner or later, his spirit must triumph.
This book is addressed to all his true followers, whether in or outside Germany; to all those who, in 1948, cling to the National Socialist ideals as steadfastly as they did in 1933 and in 1940.
But it is specially addressed to the German ones—to those who kept their faith in our Führer under the streams of fire and phosphorus poured down on them, from the Anglo-American planes, night after night, for five years; to those who continued to love and revere him in the midst of the atrocious post-war conditions imposed upon them by his enemies—under humiliations of all sorts; under persecution; and in hunger; in concentration camps, or in the bleak desolation of their ruined homes—in spite of all the frenzied attempts to “de-Nazify” them at all costs; to the men of gold and steel whom defeat could not dishearten, whom terror and torture could not subdue, whom money could not buy: the real Nazis, my comrades, my superiors—for I have not had the honour of suffering materially for our ideals, as they have—the only ones, among my contemporaries, for whom I would gladly die.
I thank all the friends who, in or outside this country, have helped me in my endeavour to prepare, along with them, the resurrection of our New Order.
I cannot also help thanking those of our enemies who, without knowing what they were doing, have so kindly made it possible for me to come to Germany. They too—for once—acted as instruments of those unseen Forces that are already clearing the way for the ultimate triumph of the Swastika.
SAVITRI DEVI MUKHERJI
Alfeld an der Leine (Niedersachsen)
3 October 1948