God help the ignominious progressive heart, that luminous beacon of infinite tolerance! In their utopian fever dream, cultures are these adorable, interchangeable IKEA flat-packs—slap ‘em together, no assembly required, and voilà, eternal harmony. Who needs boring old continuity when you can import the vibrant future by the boatload? After all, the French, Germans, and Italians have had their turn with cathedrals, symphonies, and decent plumbing. Time to hand the keys to the new majority, right? Demographics are just a social construct, darling.
Jean Raspail nailed the punchline decades ago in The Camp of the Saints. The weary, hungry arrivals don’t arrive as eager apprentices to Western genius; they arrive ready to repurpose your oak doors as kindling, redecorate the terrace with fresh fertilizer, and use your leather-bound Montaigne as emergency Charmin. The beautiful becomes passé, the useful gets laughed out of the room, and the absurd reigns supreme. But fear not! The resulting ethnic stew will surely birth a renaissance any day now—once the power stays on and someone figures out who maintains the aqueducts.
Instead, we get a glorious mosaic of “enrichment” where the dominant impulse is Islamic assertiveness layered atop enthusiastic scavenging of the ruins. No independent cultural rocket fuel here, just the confident recycling of other people’s inheritance. Why innovate when you can squat in Chartres and call it progress? The Occident, forged over centuries by people who actually showed up to build it, dissolves into a low-trust bazaar of competing grievances. Libraries become kindling, art becomes offensive, and the music? Well, at least the call to prayer carries.
The comedy writes itself: elites in gated compounds clucking about diversity while the host civilization—exhausted, guilt-ridden, and demographically kaput—quietly vanishes. Cultures aren’t immortal; they’re carried by peoples. Replace the carriers, and the whole show folds like a cheap suit. But by all means, keep importing the future. The oak doors won’t burn themselves.
