Why I am leaving Patriotic Alternative
Firstly, I want to say that I am sad to be writing this blog. I strongly believe that nationalists should not air their dirty laundry in public, and I take no pleasure in doing so. However, I feel that I have been left with no other choice and that I have a responsibility to other nationalists to warn them of some very serious potential dangers associated with the London regional group of Patriotic Alternative (PA). I still bear the marks of the bad choices made by myself and other members of this chapter of PA, and my intention in writing this is to try and ensure that nobody else has to face the same unnecessary risks because of the reckless decision-making of others.
I also want to state that this blog is not intended to discredit or diminish PA as a whole. I still believe that Mark and Laura are exceptionally competent leaders. I have the utmost respect for both of them believe and that they have and continue to do great things for our cause and our people. I firmly believe that PA is the shield the indigenous people of these isles need, and it is an organisation that has managed to inspire hope in the hearts of many in what is undoubtedly a dark time for our people. I sincerely hope that my experience with the London branch is an isolated incident but I fear that unless lessons are learnt and acted upon, this will not be the case.
I had been aware of PA since the end of 2019, and had been following them closely since Generation Identity (GI) collapsed in early 2020. Since then, they were the main pole of attraction for me and many others interested in truly nationalist politics in the UK. Over time, PA grew on me more and more — they were speaking about the same demographic issues as GI, seemingly with much greater success. I found Mark’s enthusiasm and optimism infectious, and I thought the conferences and hikes looked like exactly the kind of settings in which I’d feel comfortable meeting likeminded people.
After a few years of considering myself a nationalist, I finally plucked up the courage to step into real world activism. I cannot overstate how difficult this was. My long-term girlfriend, my family and my friendship group are all what we could call “normies” at best — I suspect some of them would be actively hostile towards my beliefs and I was always unable to voice my true political opinions, even amongst my closest friends and family members. Until recently, I was content to limit my political activity to watching videos, listening to podcasts and shitposting — but the BLM riots of 2020 finally pushed me to force myself to engage in real world activism. I decided I could not, with a clear conscience, stand by and watch my country continue along its current course towards demographic ruin. I believed, and still do, that this is our last chance to act. What am I going to tell my children, or my grandchildren if they end up living as minorities in their own country?
By this time, I had been active in a handful of Telegram chats linked to PA for about 6 months, and I decided to reach out to the newly appointed London regional organiser, Cornelius, and introduce myself. We chatted for several weeks and got along well — we even shared some common interests outside of our political ideas (we are both interested in mycology). Eventually we arranged to meet up in a South East London park. I met Cornelius and Nativist Concern (I recognised his voice from listening to the TASOB podcast) and we spoke for a few hours about our political journeys and where we saw the future of the movement. I was exhilarated and relieved to have met such inspirational people and to finally have been able to have a real-life conversation about our plight and speak my mind openly. After we’d met I felt like a weight had been lifted on my shoulders and was excited to become more involved in PA.
I expressed my desire to help out in whatever way I could and was subsequently made an admin for PA’s London regional Telegram group. Over the next few weeks I also became involved in vetting new members, both online and in person — a task for which I was given few directions, but which I nonetheless carried out diligently under my own initiative. I spoke to several people over Telegram and on the phone, and even met one person for a chat in real life. Nothing that I heard or saw from any of these people raised any suspicions whatsoever. Cornelius and Nativist seemed preoccupied and didn’t really do much of a follow up with me or any of the prospective members about these meetings. I felt as if I was being left to my own devices when it came to ensuring the group remained secure, with little to no oversight from the regional organiser. In retrospect, I must admit that during this time I grew quietly concerned about Cornelius and Nativist’s lackadaisical attitude towards vetting, security and doxxing. On several occasions it fell to me to remind people in the regional group chat not to mention specific details about their personal lives that could potentially be used to identify them. Nevertheless, I trusted Cornelius and Nativist’s judgement and assured myself that everything was in hand.
I was also closely involved in coordinating the London group’s action for Indigenous Peoples’ Day — for which PA organised a national day of action. In fact, it was decided that I would be one of the designated photographers for the action. I was excited and nervous about what was to be my first proper step into real world activism. Here again, I had concerns about the security of the action, but again I told myself that other more experienced activists knew better. I now know I should have trusted my gut. On more the one occasion I asked Cornelius whether individuals added to the closed organising chat for the IPD action were known and trusted. On more than one occasion I was met with vague and dismissive answers.
From the outset, the plan put forward for IPD seemed needlessly complicated and, frankly, unrealistic given the limited resources that we had to achieve it. Cornelius pushed for two teams of activists, each with a huge banner, traipsing across some of the most heavily policed and surveilled areas of central London, before unveiling banners designed to antagonise the government and the mainstream media. What’s more, all of this was supposed to happen shortly after first light on a Sunday morning.
As the day approached it became increasingly clear that we didn’t have the numbers to pull off the plan laid out by Cornelius. Instead of amending this plan, Cornelius and Nativist began inviting random people to the chat, some of whom had never been met IRL or vetted. The chat for the action contained all the information about the action, including exactly where we would be and when. It seems obvious to me in retrospect that the resulting disaster was due to this negligence and wilful disregard for our activists’ safety. Instead of spending more time vetting trustworthy activists, Cornelius sent out a lengthy PDF document detailing how to fold and unfold a banner. He also sent us mocked up photographs showing where the people holding the banner should stand and where the photographer should be situated. We were even told the order of sites we would visit and given rough times that the photographs would be taken. He seemed to be obsessing about the finer details of the plan he had set out and was unwilling to grapple with the reality of organising such an action. He clearly had no past experience of note.
On the morning of the action, we had cancellation after cancellation, with many so-called patriots dropping out right at the last minute and not showing up in a stupefying display of laziness and ineptitude. All told, more than half of the people in the organising chat for the action failed to show up on the day, including some of the other key members of the London PA group.
Because of the poor turnout, Nativist made the impromptu decision to roll the two teams into one and focus on the Westminster area. We met by the Winston Churchill statue in Parliament Square — directly opposite the gates to then Houses of Parliament — at 6:30AM with a total of five people, not including Cornelius.
As we stood there at the crack of dawn, alone in the square, waiting for latecomers and no-shows and being ogled by countless police officers, I began to grow increasingly nervous. It dawned on me that our first banner drop location was directly outside New Scotland Yard, and would likely be perceived as a deliberate provocation towards the authorities. Were we about to bait them into arresting us all for malicious communications or a public order offence? (To clarify: I do not think the slogan “White Lives Matter” is illegal but all nationalists should be realistic about how the state views such acts. As ethno-nationalists the risk for us is even greater, as our views would see us driven out of our jobs and homes if our true identities were ever revealed to the wider public. If we were to be arrested and charged our identities would be smeared all over the Evening Standard or the Metro and our lives would be ruined.) This choice of location seemed all the more counterproductive given that the action had been deliberately timed to coincide with the time the Metropolitan Police change shifts at 7AM (according to Cornelius), in the hope this would limit our interactions with the authorities.
Thankfully, and much to my relief, the police didn’t seem to take an interest in us. We moved on to Buckingham Palace for the next banner drop and I got some fantastic pictures which I thought would go viral. There was no way the mainstream media would be able to ignore this! We were finally doing it and the group was buzzing with excitement at a successful action and having skilfully avoided scrutiny from the state. We made our way into Trafalgar Square to meet Cornelius who was waiting for us.
As we arrived one of our party pointed out a group of four or five individuals milling about at the top of the Square. Initially I thought nothing of it and even wondered whether we were going to be joined by other nationalists here. How wrong I was. What happened next all took place in a matter of seconds, so I must apologise if my account is a bit garbled. The group at the top of the square, and five or six other similarly sized groups that appeared from all over the square, slowly and menacingly began walking towards us. It seemed like they were everywhere and I felt like I was in a nightmare. Were we about to be arrested or attacked? The sense of confusion and panic amongst our group was palpable as we realised we were being targeted. Nativist turned to us and said: “This shouldn’t have been leaked”. His eyes were wide with fear, his voice was shaking. I realised we were fucked. One of the groups of men made a beeline for Nativist who was carrying the banner. He started shouting: “What are you doing!?” and then tried to run away but ran straight into another group. He dropped the banner, wriggled free and the banner was scooped up by another one of our assailants. They then turned their attention to me. Until this point no-one in our group had offered them any resistance, and not one punch had been thrown by either side as far as I could see. I don’t think our assailants had said a single word.
At this point, I was painfully aware that I was carrying the camera with which I had captured the entire action and this was the reason we were being targeted. The “anti-fascists” seemed laser focussed on simply disrupting the activity. There was no pushing or shouting. It was a level of discipline and precision that made me think that these must have been agents of the security services. With no time to think and in a desperate bid to protect the pictures we had taken so as not to let down the rest of the country, I ran. I’m not ashamed to say it because I still think I did the right thing. Nobody in our group had shown any indication that they would be prepared to intervene on my behalf, so I ran. I soon realised that not only was I was being chased by at least two of the men from Trafalgar Square but that I also had no idea where I was going. After a few minutes and utterly exhausted, I turned to try and remonstrate with them and was immediately punched in the stomach and pushed to the floor.
I hit the ground and held my hands up to protect myself but after delivering a few kicks for good measure the two men pulled the cameras off my neck and left. By the time I caught my breath and picked myself up, an African security guard had approached me and asked if I was OK and whether I wanted to call the police. I thought to myself, “You’ve got to be joking!” The last thing I wanted was to have the police take down my name and address so I left the area as quickly as possible, not knowing what had happened to the people I was with, if they had all gotten the treatment I had or worse or had all been arrested by the police.
When I got home my girlfriend was in bits at the state of me. My t-shirt was ripped and I was covered in bruises and was missing our shared camera. My girlfriend had been ambivalent towards my political views beforehand, so I’d been deliberately vague and evasive about what I’d be doing in central London so early in the morning. She couldn’t understand why I was left to defend myself and was convinced we would both be doxxed and have to move.
As you can imagine, after taking a beating, losing my camera and my precious photos of the days action — and, just for extra measure, a few hours of arguing with my girlfriend — I was feeling utterly dejected. I won’t recount here some of the thoughts I’d had on my journey home from central London.
I sent Cornelius and Nativist a message explaining what had happened and asking whether the other members of the group were OK. When they eventually replied they seemed completely dismissive of my account and totally unconcerned about my wellbeing. They seemed to blame me entirely for the loss of the photos and shouldered none of the responsibility for what by any measure has to be considered a totally disastrous action. When I raised concerns about vetting and that the organising chat had likely been infiltrated they barely even bothered to respond. “What the hell?”, I thought. Over the coming days their sole concern was having me obtain a crime reference number. After some careful thought, I told them that no way was I prepared to speak to the police and reveal my identity and political affiliations to the authorities. I now think that the only reason they wanted me to report this to the police was because neither of them wanted to do it themselves.
I do not trust the police at all and as nationalists we should be under no illusion that they are on our side. They answer only to their globalist handlers and actively work to undermine our efforts. We should never beg for help from the same corrupt institution responsible for covering up Rochdale and Rotherham.
Finally, Nativist gave me an ultimatum: Either report the crime or be considered a suspect myself. I considered this an absolute insult and was incandescent with rage. How dare he level such an accusation at me after I’d put my safety on the line to protect our efforts? Particularly when the responsibility for the disruption of our action rests with two people far more responsible for it than myself: Cornelius and Nativist.
I decided there and then to wash my hands of any involvement with the London regional group of PA. I have resolved to take a step back from IRL organising after this unfortunate first encounter, and to instead focus on my fitness, education and self-sufficiency while I think about how best I can contribute to saving our people.
E-mail me: alexfromlondon@protonmail.com
