Taking leave

There is, arguably, such a thing as real democracy — which is, people voting with their feet. For instance, in the States, there is significant net internal migration from “blue states” to “red states,” and from big blue cities to anywhere else. International refugee movements display which are the “shitty little countries” (I quote a prominent foreign policy wonk), and which countries are most attractive. Foolish inhabitants may vote in elections for their own impoverishment and cultural decline; they often do. But their migration patterns display a contrary knowledge. They move consistently “to the right,” politically; and away from Islam towards Christianity whenever possible.

Childbirth is a vote, too, but in time instead of space; and here the woman’s choice prevails. They vote with the feet of their little babies, or by eliminating them. I try not to pay too much attention to these trends, for they have become spectacularly depressing; but note, the Canadian birth rate has now officially shrunk to its lowest level in recorded history. This indicates that Canadians would, on balance, prefer not to be alive. They have other ways to show this preference, and have acted on all of them, but the decline in the birthrate is the second-most definitive. (Suicide is tops.)

The previous record low-birth performance was achieved in the previous year. This statistic is misunderstood, however: for Canada’s population is simultaneously growing, at well over a million a year, due to record immigration. But the people who used to live here — mostly of French, British, miscellaneous European, and native Indian ancestry — have been dying off. White women are mostly sterile, apparently, for those who enter the adventure of mothering are, in most cases, from races we did not formerly import. This means the per-woman birthrate, which has dropped to 1.33 overall, understates the predicament. It may still be close to 2.1 (the replacement level) among the “new Canadians.” It is closer to zero among Canadians of the ancien regime.

Well: “Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow.”