Francis Parker Yockey

“Thus, the Liberation Front now states to Europe its two great tasks: (1) the complete expulsion of everything alien from the soul and from the soil of Europe, the cleansing of the European soul of the dross of 19th century materialism and rationalism with its money-worship, liberal-democracy, social degeneration, parliamentarism, class-war, feminism, vertical nationalism, finance-capitalism, petty-statism, chauvinism, the Bolshevism of Moscow and Washington, the ethical syphilis of Hollywood, and the spiritual leprosy of New York; (2) the construction of the Imperium of Europe and the actualizing of the divinely-emanated European will to unlimited political Imperialism."

I first met F.P.Y. — Yockey to all and sundry — in the autumn of 1947 at the London bookshop headquarters of the Union for British Freedom, this being one of the regional organizations preparing for the return of Sir Oswald Mosley to active politics. Yockey was introduced to me by A. Raven Thomson — pre-War Director of Policy in the British Union of Fascists — with the comment that I would find him an interesting companion.

Yockey’s American accent prompted me to ask him what he was doing in London. This was not an idle question for, at that time, London had many visitors from the USA seeking to make contact with groups deemed to be neo-fascist. Most of them were agents of the Anti-Defamation League of B’nai Brith, and their purpose was to identify the leaders of such groups so that they could be given “the treatment” — repressed, put-down, evaporated! Of course, their general approach was that of the American “sympathizer” to the Cause but, sooner or later, it would be suggested that names and addresses should be exchanged so that contact could be maintained. Many of those who acceded to this request lived to regret it; they became the objects of unwelcome attention by hostile groups in their own localities, had their businesses undermined, or lost their employment.

At the outset, it was obvious that Yockey did NOT follow this pattern — no request was made for name and address exchange — and in the ensuing conversation he told me that he had come to Europe to meet others in the service of the Idea, in particular, Sir Oswald Mosley, before writing a book. His intellectual gifts were very evident, as was his utter sincerity.

[...]

Twice, I attended the hearings, and each time was fascinated by this man, Yockey. In stature he was about five feet, ten inches. He was light of weight, perhaps 145 pounds, and quick on his feet. His hair was dark and starting to gray. The expression on his face—pensive, sensitive, magnetic—this was the unforgettable thing. It was his eyes, I think. Dark, with a quick and knowing intelligence. His eyes bespoke great secrets and knowledge and such terrible sadness. As he turned to leave, one time, those eyes quickly searched the room, darting from face to face with a sort of desperation, though the expression on his face of a determined resignation never wavered. What was he looking for? In that lion’s den, what else but a friendly countenance? As his gaze swept across, and then to me, he stopped and for the space of a fractional second, spoke to me with his eyes. In that instant we understood that I would not desert him.