Recientemente circuló el falso rumor de que Don Miguel Serrano había fallecido. Dado que nació en 1917, la noticia parecía verosimil. Aunque delicado de salud, todavía no ha dado el tránsito hacia otra vida.  Quizás ese rumor sirva para que en homenaje al valiente escritor e investigador del llamado   hitlerismo esotérico publiquemos tres cartas de salutación que le dirigió en 1980 su amiga y camarada Savitri Devi:

What follows is the first of three surviving letters from Savitri Devi to Miguel Serrano, the renowned Chilean diplomat, author, and Esoteric Hitlerist. These letters will eventually appear in a volume of Savitri’s correspondence. We are publishing them online now to encourage comparative studies of Savitri Devi’s and Miguel Serrano’s ideas.

I wish to comment on two interesting characteristics of this letter.

First, the letter reveals that Savitri’s and Serrano’s versions of Esoteric Hitlerism developed in relative indpendence of one another. Because she knew little Spanish, not to mention her failing eyesight, Savitri apparently never read El Cordón Dorado: Hitlerismo Esotérico, the first volume of Serrano’s Esoteric Hitlerist trilogy and the only one published during her lifetime. Savitri is also under the impression (perhaps mistaken) that Serrano had not read The Lightning and the Sun and Souvenirs et réflexions d’une Aryenne before writing El Cordón Dorado.

Second, the letter, along with statements in And Time Rolls On (see note 2 below), refutes Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke’s completely unfounded assertion that in the early 1960s, Savitri Devi began to influence Ernst Zündel in the direction of Holocaust denial (Hitler’s Priestess, 206). Although Savitri’s books did report the views of some who disagreed with aspects of the standard Holocaust story, Savitri makes it clear that she herself believed (until 1977), that approximately six million Jews were killed by the Third Reich and that the methods of extermination included gassing.

According to Zündel himself, whom I interviewed on 29 October 2001, Savitri resisted all his attempts to disabuse her of these views. According to And Time Rolls On, her mind was changed only by reading Arthur Butz’s The Hoax of the Twentieth-Century.

We thank Miguel Serrano for preserving Savitri’s letters, photocopying and mailing them to us, and premitting us to publish them. Thanks also to Bastian Thoemmes for his proofreading.

To make this letter more readable online, I have broken up some of Savitri’s longer paragraphs where such breaks seem natural. The notes, naturally, are mine.

 —R. G. Fowler

New Delhi
28 March 1980

Dear comrade and friend,

I am writing in English as you tell me you do not read German (a statement which I can hardly understand, as among the letters you sent me, some are in German). I could write in French if you prefer or—with some clumsiness—in Italian.

Unfortunately I have not studied Spanish. I can understand a little of it on account of my knowledge of Italian and French, languages that helped me when I was in Spain (1960) although I mostly spoke German there, being the guest of the late Otto Skorzeny.

I should very much appreciate a copy in French of your book on “esoteric Hitlerism.”1

In my eyes, even though Adolf Hitler “decided to become a politician” at the end of World War I, He never succeeded in doing so. Otherwise He never would have ordered 10 kilometers between His advancing army and the fleeing British Expeditionary Force, in 1940. Any “politician”—any political-minded army chief—would have ordered His soldiers to accelerate their pace and capture (or wipe out) the whole British Expeditionary Force, not allowed them to embark at Dunkirk, in safety.

But the Führer was much more than a politician. He was an Incarnation of the divine Energy that fights to save whatever still appears to deserve to survive, be it in this dark age. So He held out His hand—not once, but again and again—to England. England chose to listen to her Jewish misleaders instead of to Him, and rejected the sincere, friendly gesture.

For that, she shall die—not the glorious death on the battlefield, but the slow, nauseating death through blood-mixture and all manner of vice. Within less than 300 years to come—unless there be a miracle—there shall be no more England. My mother’s compatriots (my mother was descended from Jütland Vikings) will have given way before teeming millions of mongrels (a hotch potch of Jamaicans, Africans, Pakistanis, Jews, and degenerate English women) with nothing in common with their forefathers, except that they might well still be “Christians.”

The few remaining pure-blooded English Aryans—50,000? 20,000?—foreigners in the land of their ancestors, will gather on the eighth of May and curse Mr. Churchill, and on the 16th of October, and pay homage to the martyrs of Nuremberg, and on the 20th of April, and sing hymns to the glory of the Race-Saviour, Adolf Hitler, and bow down in shame and in grief before His everlasting Presence, that those fools of 1940-’41 rejected.

The real reason—to me—why we did not (could not) win the war (and that is the point I put forward in my book The Lightning and the Sun, written 1948-56, reprinted last year by Samisdat Publishers [address omitted]) is that our Führer was not the last great Incarnation of the present Time cycle, but at the most the one before the last. He was “both Sun and Lightning” all right (all fighters against the current of decay are; have to be) but He had in Him “too much Sun, not enough Lightning,” because only the last one (the one the Hindu Scriptures call the “Kalki” avatar) will be equally Sun and Lightning, and will win, and open a new Time cycle, beginning, as all Time cycles do, with a “golden Age” on the ruins of this wretched one.

You must know Franz Pfeiffer, also living in Santiago. I believe I sent him the last copy I had of The Lightning and the Sun. I also sent him a dozen copies of my French book Souvenirs et réflexions d’une Aryenne. Do please ask him to give you one.

The new book I began is hardly getting on as I am suffering from a “cataract” on both eyes (shall soon have to be operated at least on one eye—the right eye—or shall not see at all any longer. I shall be a full 75 years old on the 30th of September this year).

Mr. A.K. Mukherji—of whom Herr von Selzam, at that time Consul General for Germany in Calcutta, had written that “no man in Asia has rendered the Third German Reich service comparable to his”—would be going on for 77, were he still alive. He died here in Delhi, on the 21st of March 1977—a fine, fair-skinned, Aryan-featured type of Indian Brahmin, fully conscious of the identity of values of Hitlerism and traditional Hinduism.

Your letters—to and from Manfred Roeder—have grieved me. Few things grieve me as much as the sight of misunderstanding, verging sometimes on possible enmity, between National Socialists.  We are so few in this immense, indifferent—when not downright hostile—world! We should stress whatever unites us, neglect whatever divides us—unless of course it be too really dangerous to neglect.

I have never met Manfred Roeder, although I am in correspondence with him. I cannot but believe he is sincerely fighting for the survival and final victory of our common Aryan race, over the forces of disintegration that are threatening it more than ever—otherwise why should he live the hard life of an exile, away from his devoted wife, and six beautiful children?

The confidence Mr. Roeder seems to have in the Russians astonished me, at first. But then I said to myself that I have no understanding (and no practice) of international politics, and that, therefore, if a sincere National Socialist, and a man of law, accustomed to see into people (it’s his job), says the Russians are “good”—that is to say, “usable for the benefit of  both Germany, the Führer’s country, and of Aryandom at large”—then it must be true; at least, it is an opinion that should be considered, and tested.

You are older, and more experienced than M. Roeder—and have that knowledge of people that a diplomat is bound to have—and what you say is nearer to my spontaneous feelings. I know all Russians are not Communists, and many are instinctively anti-Jewish. Mr. Mukherji spent nearly two years in Russia, and used to speak Russian fluently—all the greater a reason for which the Indian Communists positively hated him, when on his return from the “Soviet paradise,” in 1932 (I was in India then but did not meet him till 1938, in Calcutta) he came out with the only pro-Hitler magazine (a fortnightly) in India, the New Mercury, financed by the Third Reich. He told me a number of anecdotes in support of this—a Russian, called Lakatchow, radiated for three years from the Communist party, for calling a Jew who had stepped on his toes in a tramcar, a “dirty kike”; and a number of people who, in the privacy of their homes, used to turn off their radio as soon as the subject of “materialist dialectic” appeared.

But all that does not mean that the Russian home and foreign policy are not governed by Jews—or slaves of Jews. So are all policies after the disaster of 1945. That is why, personally, I support none, hate them all, and only wait for the day in which, of all we are made to call “civilisation,” nothing shall be left. Hurray!

No more Jewish values for Aryan consumption. No more laws to protect the weak against the strong, the sick against the healthy. No more beautiful, healthy, innocent, and trusting living creatures, tortured in laboratories, to see what happens when this or that is done, or to help patch up good for nothing sick people! No more of all that which has revolted me from childhood.

As a South American, you must remember the words of Huayna Capac’s soothsayers in answer to his request to tell him the meaning of the three circles he had noticed around the moon: the red one, the black one, and the smoky one: “The red one means civil war: bloodshed in the royal family. The black one means disaster—defeat at the hands of powerful foes; the smoky one is the worst; it means: of all we know, of all we revere, nothing will remain!

At that time everything in the Inca Empire looked just as before—seemed everlasting. But Huayna Capac had been foolish enough to order the division of the empire between his two sons—Huascar, the son of his sister and wife, the legitimate heir, and Atahualpa, the son of the woman he loved. And the Spanish Caravellas were, if not yet “on their way,” about the cross the Atlantic.

When will the circles around the moon reappear and show the end of all that the world holds great today: Democracy, man-centered philosophies (all of them, from Christianity to Communism, included), the cult of decadence? And the dawn of the next Time cycle in Adolf Hitler’s invisible presence?

You say, quite rightly, that the Russians did nothing (nor did the Americans) to break the falsehood about the mass-gassing of Jews, etc. To my shame (it shows my lack of scenting material impossibilities, i.e., lack of intelligence) I believed the gas-chamber stories and the tale of the six million Jews done away. I believed it for years.2 But not being a lover of man, the stories had not on me the effect that their promoters had expected. I quote a passage I wrote in 1945 in the Preface of my book Impeachment of Man:  

The one thing the propaganda did,—instead of stirring in me the slightest indignation against the supposed-to-be “war criminals”—was to rouse my hatred against the hypocrisy and cowardice underlying every man-centered attitude; to harden me in my bitter contempt for “man” in general; and . . . to prompt me to write this book: the answer to it, the spirit of which could be summed up in a few lines: “A ‘civilization’ that makes such a ridiculous fuss about alleged ‘war crimes’—acts of violence against the actual or potential enemies of one’s cause—and tolerates slaughterhouses and vivisection laboratories, and circuses and the fur industry (infliction of pain upon creatures that can never be for or against any cause), does not deserve to live. Out with it! Blessed the day it will destroy itself, so that a healthy, hard, frank and brave, nature-loving and truth-loving élite of supermen with a life-centred faith,—a natural human aristocracy, as beautiful, on its own higher level, as the four-legged kings of the jungle—might again rise, and rule upon its ruins, for ever!”

My spontaneous answer to the six million story was: “A pity is was not sixteen million! Then the Jewish question would have been well-solved!”

I often repeated that I forbid anyone to criticise us for the treatment of our worst enemies unless he be himself a Jain, i.e., a member of an Indian religious sect, that kills no fleas, nor bugs, nor lice. For surely a politically active Jews (or pro-Jewish Aryan, by the way) is liable to create more mischief than any of these insects that cannot but live on blood (but so little of it!).

Now that I know the story is a lie, I say so. It is good propaganda with the man-loving, stupid majority!

Write to me whenever you feel like it.

With the ritual greeting,
Savitri Dêvi Mukherji

[P.S.] I know de Mahieu4 only though his writings. Saint-Loup I know well and admire. His children, on their way to Nepal, paid a visit to me here in Delhi two years ago.

(Click here for Savitri’s next letter to Serrano.)

1 Miguel Serrano, El Cordón Dorado: Hitlerismo Esotérico [The Golden Thread: Esoteric Hitlerism] (1978).
In And Time Rolls On, Savitri claims that she believed the standard Holocaust story until 1977, when she read Arthur Butz’s The Hoax of the Twentieth-Century (Torrance, Cal.: Institute for Historical Review, 1976). See And Time Rolls On: The Savitri Devi Interviews, ed. R.G. Fowler (Atlanta: Black Sun Publications, 2005), 162.
3 When signing her name, Savitri often put a circumflex over the “e” in Dêvi. She did not, however, do so when her name appeared in print.
4 Probably Jacques de Mahieu (b. 1915), the author of a number of books arguing that, beginning in the 10th century, the Vikings extensively explored the Americas and influenced the indigenous cultures.



*) Próximamente publicaremos la segunda y tercera cartas de Savitri Devi, cuya fotografía, datada en India en 1937, figura arriba. (Nota  de FUEGOFRIO)

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  1. celtix Says:

    hola , dispersos los que nos matenemos despiertos aunque sea medianamemte


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