Learn From Others Mistakes, Please.

God always seems to provide someone with the unique ability to elucidate world events in a time of crisis - who, of course, is ignored or ridiculed by the majority until it's too late. Mark Steyn seems to be stepping into that role for the present day.

No Smoke Without Fire by Mark Steyn

Let us zip across the Dominion, to Etobicoke, a corner of Toronto I know well. Or I thought I did. The other day a reader sent me the list of candidates for the Etobicoke North riding in this month’s provincial election. They are as follows:

Shafiq Qaadri, Liberal
Mohamed Boudjenane, NDP
Mohamed Kassim, Progressive Conservative
Jama Korshel, Green
Teresa Ceolin, Family Coalition

"Teresa"? What kind of cockamamie name is that for an Etobicoke politician? This is the first riding in Ontario in which every major party is running a Muslim candidate. But not the last. To the casual observer, this would seem to be statistically improbable. Etobicoke is not 80 per cent Muslim, nor even 50 per cent Muslim. Yet every major national party already feels obliged to defer, in its candidate selection process, to Islam’s political muscle. I write in my book that, historically, Islam has never needed to be a statistical majority in order to function as one. At the height of its power in the eighth century, the “Islamic world” stretched from Spain to India yet its population was only minority Muslim: Islam conquered and ruled an empire of non-Muslim subjects. But, a millennium and a bit on, it's not even necessary to conquer – not when everyone's so eager to concede pre-emptively, all in the name of "tolerance". As Douglas Farrow told a conference at McGill recently, tolerance is a negative: it implies a kind of passivity. "You can't build a society on that negative principle," he says. But you can rot and enfeeble the one you have, and in its ruins something new will be built.


"The decline of the West," wrote Samuel P Huntington, is still in the slow first phase, but at some point it might speed up dramatically." What is the point at which it becomes irreversible? If you’re on a river heading over the falls, it's not the moment when you plunge over the precipice and are dashed on the rocks below. That’s the great visual dividing line – Joseph Cotton in Niagara: one minute his boat's horizontal, next it's heading straight down. But the critical point happens way back upstream. It's still flat, it’s still the river not the distant falls, but what you thought were the placid shallows has, in fact, a strong silent running current and, before you even know it, you’re being swept along.