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Through Mr. Smith's work in exposing the holocaust lie he has, perhaps, had a greater influence on my view of world in which I live than anyone other than my parents. No holocaust ultimately equates to a complete rewrite of the fairytale that is the official Twentieth century history and a reconsideration of the respect I had for my country's leadership.
An Obituary Series can be found here:
Bradley R. Smith in Memoriam
By Richard A. Widmann
Bradley R. Smith was born to a working-class family in South Central Los Angeles on February 18, 1930, where the family remained until 1970. He was a good student on occasion, but was more interested in horses than education. At 18 he joined the army and in 1951 served in the 7th Cavalry in Korea where he was twice wounded. It was in the army hospital at Camp Cooke California where he began to write.
Bradley Reed Smith
Feb 18, 1930 - Feb. 18, 2016
In the 1950s he searched for something in addition to the writing that could hold his attention. He became a deputy sheriff for Los Angeles County, but that wasn't it. He left the department to travel to Mexico where he became involved with the bullfights, becoming a novillero – an apprentice bullfighter – in the central mountain states of Jalisco, Guerrero and Hidalgo. The bulls very much had his attention, but his liver gave out with hepatitis and he had to return to the States for hospitalization.
In 1958 Smith went to New York City where he worked for The Bodley Gallery on East 60th Street. He discovered the intellectual and cultural life of Greenwich Village, a new world for him. In the Village he read a bootleg copy of Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer and was, literally, rocked by it. He returned to Los Angeles where he opened a bookstore on Hollywood Boulevard specializing in paperback books, which at that time was new and all the rage. When Tropic was published he dedicated himself to promoting the book in his store windows. He was arrested, jailed, and prosecuted for refusing to stop selling the book.
The ensuing trial lasted six weeks, the longest civil trial ever to have taken place in Los Angeles at that time. There was considerable press coverage. Smith was intrigued by the proceedings. For six weeks he watched and listened to academics and writers and community leaders argue under oath that Tropic should be censored and those selling it be punished because the book expressed sensibilities that did not meet, legally, “community standards.” Leon Uris, author of The Exodus particularly caught Smith’s attention by arguing that Miller, a writer obviously more important to American culture, should be censored. In 1962 Smith was convicted for selling a book that "endangered" the community standards of Greater Los Angeles.
In the 1960s Smith patrolled the streets of Hollywood and worked as a seaman on merchant ships. He shipped to Japan, the Philippines, Korea, Vietnam, and Taiwan. In 1968 he jumped ship in Thailand and made his way to Saigon where he traveled the country as a correspondent with accreditation by the Vietnamese. Meanwhile, in Hollywood, he had met a Jewish lady, they had exchanged hearts, each with the other, in a relationship that lasted into the mid-1970s.
Then it happened.
In 1979, when Smith was 49 years old, his life changed forever when he read a leaflet by Robert Faurisson, “The Problem of the Gas Chambers.” The story of this life-changing moment is recounted in his autobiographical work, Confessions of a Holocaust Revisionist. Smith writes, “I felt stunned, as if Buck Rogers had somehow come down from the 21st century and zapped me with a beam from his ray gun.” It took him three months to digest the core of the revisionist argument. And then he jumped into the struggle. He knew from the beginning that he was going to address the taboo against publishing revisionist arguments, not the arguments themselves. He would be the “Henry Miller” of the revisionists. Not so good as Miller, not so original, but he would do his best.
Through his efforts in the years that followed, millions of Americans learned for the first time about Holocaust revisionism and the scholarly debate on this chapter of history. In the mid-1980s, he published Prima Facie, a newsletter aimed at journalists and editors, quoting their own writings, that focused on cultism, suppression of free inquiry and censorship on the Holocaust issue.
Smith has had a long association with the Institute for Historical Review – as a contributor to their publications, as a speaker at conferences, and, during the late 1980s, as its Media Project director, a role that generated hundreds of radio and television interviews.
Starting in the late 1980s and on through to the present, he has been active as director of the Committee for Open Debate on the Holocaust (CODOH), a group dedicated to defending free speech and free inquiry on the Holocaust issue, to encouraging greater public access to revisionist scholarship, and to promoting awareness of the controversy regarding the Holocaust story.
Since 1990, Smith has published a newsletter, Smith's Report, which reports on his own activities, those of CODOH, and various articles and news stories about revisionists and revisionism around the world.
Smith is perhaps best known for having published several essay-length advertisements calling for open debate on the Holocaust in student newspapers published at colleges and universities across the United States. In the 1991-92 school year, CODOH advertisements or statements appeared in 17 student newspapers, several at major universities. During the 1993-1994 academic year, his ad – headlined “A Revisionist Challenge to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum – appeared in at least 35 college and university campus papers, as well as one major metropolitan daily. In 1999 and 2000, Smith created a new publication, The Revisionist a 24 page pulp-stock publication that was distributed free on campus. The January 2000 issue which featured a story on intellectual freedom and book-burning was itself burned on the campus of St. Cloud University. By the end of the 2000-01 academic year, his ads had appeared in more than 350 student papers.
Smith's campaign generated news reports and commentary in such prominent periodicals as The New York Times and Time magazine, and editorials in The Washington Post, The New York Times, the Philadelphia Inquirer, and the Los Angeles Times.
Deborah Lipstadt, a Jewish academic and a prominent figure in the Holocaust lobby, took aim at Bradley's efforts in her Denying the Holocaust. One chapter of her book, “The Battle for the Campus,” focuses specifically on Smith's advertisements. She laments that after seeing the ads many students may assume there is an “other side” [to the Holocaust story.]
Smith has spoken on the subject of intellectual freedom with regard to the Holocaust on more than 400 radio talk shows and news broadcasts, as well as on nationwide television, including an appearance with Michael Shermer (Skeptic Magazine) and David Cole as a guest on the Phil Donahue Show.
Bradley Smith and CODOH were one of the first Holocaust revisionist groups to develop a website in the early '90s. Since that time he has hosted several sites, blogs, a MySpace page, a Facebook page, and participated in many discussion groups and forums on-line.
He is the author of many articles, and several books. The first, Confessions of a Holocaust Revisionist, was praised by Canadian journalist Doug Collins as “fascinating” and as an “amusing walk through the valley of the shadow of doubt.”
Smith's Break His Bones: The Private Life of a Holocaust Revisionist, is a witty and thoughtful 315-page memoir published in 2002 that looks back on the challenges, disappointments and joys of his years-long battle against taboo and censorship. Break His Bones details the organized campaign to suppress free speech and intellectual freedom on the Holocaust issue, showing how skeptics are blacklisted, and their works banned. Smith provided a human face for the much-maligned “Holocaust deniers.” “It might be said,” he wrote, that Break His Bones “is an exercise revealing the subjective life of a thought criminal.”
In December 2006, Smith was invited and delivered a talk to an international delegation at the Tehran Holocaust Conference, “The Irrational Vocabulary of the American Professorial Class with Regard to the Holocaust Question.”
In 2008, Nine-Banded Books published this third book, The Man Who Saw His Own Liver. Liver was conceived and written as a one-act play. It was performed in Los Angeles in 1983, under the title The Man Who Stopped Paying. A review of the performance labeled Smith “an anarchist libertarian.”
Six years later, in 2014 Smith published a collection of his writing from the 1950s to the 1980s entitled, A Personal History of Moral Decay. Tito Perdue commented on Bradley’s final book calling it “a generous, lapidary, and much appreciated gift.”
Bradley Smith passed away at the VA hospital in San Diego, California, on February 18, 2016, his 86th birthday. He succumbed to lymphoma and congestive heart failure. He left behind his wife, two daughters and three grand children.
Please send your condolences to the family:
Irene Altamirano Smith
PO Box 439016
San Ysidro CA 92143
Or leave your condolences online here:
Bradley Reed Smith, February 18, 1930 to February 18, 2016
By Germar Rudolf
I met Bradley the first time in September 1999 during David Irving’s Real History Conference in Cincinnati, where we both presented papers to Irving’s audience. I did not interact much with him during that conference. That changed, however, after I had to leave England in a hurry just two months later due to a veritable manhunt for me initiated by the British media. I came to the U.S. in an attempt to find a safe haven there, but those plans weren’t panning out as hoped. I’ve described my failed attempts at getting some kind of permission to remain in the U.S. elsewhere. What matters here is that I ended up having to leave the U.S., which is how Bradley got involved again. In February and then again in May 2000 I stayed at Bradley’s home in Baja California for a number of days each time. I was (understandably) depressed back then, and Bradley tried hard to lift me up. When another three months of tourist visa time was about to expire in August, I decided that this in-and-out of Mexico won’t work much longer, so I arranged with Bradley to actually move to his neighborhood. I lived next door to Bradley in a small rented house between late July and mid-October of 2000. During the day I worked for my little revisionist outlet, but when it was dinner time, Bradley’s wife Irene insisted that I come over and have dinner with them. After dinner I stayed, and Bradley and I talked. That’s when Bradley became a close friend of mine.
We realized that our outlooks on things were rather similar. For instance, neither of us was ever interested in riches, in social status or in gaining power and influence. We both were looking for some way of dedicating our lives to some worthwhile idealistic cause. He tried to find glory and meaning in the army, serving in Korea and reporting from Vietnam during that country’s war. He tried being a deputy sheriff, and he even tried bull-fighting, of all things. But the real bull fight, so to speak, the one he fought for the rest of his life, he entered only at the age of 49.
Realizing our similar outlook on life, we started doing revisionist projects together, for instance by interlinking our two websites and indexing all papers (I even announced that in my German journal in an ad, see at the bottom of this article). I left my Mexican abode again in mid-October 2000, returning to the States in order to apply for political asylum.
This, too, was a doomed attempt, but it took five years before the U.S. authorities finally arrested me in November 2005 and deport me back to Germany, where I was duly incarcerated and prosecuted for my offensive scientific (revisionist) views. Again, this is not the place to discuss this in detail. The reader can find out about that elsewhere.
However, I had married a U.S. citizen in the meantime, and in the long run that was my magic bullet to finally get permanent legal residence in the States (legalese for a “green card”). But the U.S. government wasn’t willingly granting me that permission. Quite to the contrary. More than a year after my release from the German prison system, and I still had made no headway. Hoping that this might change soon, I decided to wait right across the border – in Rosarito, Mexico, in Bradley’s home. So in September of 2010, Bradley and his wife once more received me with open arms and allowed me to stay at their home until my immigration case was finally resolved. But the weeks of waiting turned into months. At the end it took 10 months, until July 2011, to finally obtain that coveted immigrant visa. Seven of these ten months I spent with Bradley and his family. During that time I had little else to do but to assist Bradley in what he was doing, in partaking in the Smith family life, and in talking to Bradley.
Bradley’s legacy is monumental. Among revisionists, there are few who have achieved as much as he has. Ernst Zündel comes to mind, whose ingeniously fought trials triggered a landslide of worldwide attention and interest in Holocaust revisionism. Next Robert Faurisson, who was the grand strategist and prime expert advisor on Zündel’s defense team. He almost single-handedly made his own nation listen to the revisionist message, in spite of all establishment attempts to silence him. And of course Willis Carto, who between the late 1970s and the early 1990s gave fledgling Holocaust revisionism massive organizational and financial support.
Ever since Bradley got involved in revisionism, his mission was to spread the message to U.S. campuses and the mass media. His initial success was staggering, as he caught the enemies of free speech with their shields down and on their wrong foot. They smartened up to him eventually, but Bradley sought and always somehow found gaps in their system of censorship to break through the wall of silence anyway. And he did so until his very last breath.
How did he do it? A man of little formal education and basically no financial means, how did he manage to stand up against the million-, nah, billion-dollar Holocaust Industry which could easily out-scream and out-censor him?
I think a big part in the picture is his personality. He was a gentle and kind person, always respectful and willing to help; he gave everyone the benefit of the doubt; he did not judge, but he gently, and often with lots of humor, gave friendly advice. If you met or spoke to him personally, you couldn’t possibly be mad at him or hold any grudges, no matter how much his opinions might differ from yours. He was, in his own way, disarmingly charming. Whenever he appeared in public or was confronted face-to-face by his opponents, this personality shone through and made it difficult to call him names. He simply didn’t fit the prejudice which the mainstream media like to spread about us revisionists.
Was he in it for the money? Actually, the opposite is probably true. He sacrificed his comfortable life in southern California and had to move to Mexico because he couldn’t afford living in the U.S. anymore, and during all his years of revisionist engagement, he struggled to make ends meet. As we revisionists know, there is no money in revisionism, only hardship and ostracism.
Was he faking his fight for censorship just to force his view upon others? Well, already in the 1960s he went to jail for his struggle for free speech when selling Henry Miller’s then-banned Tropic of Cancer in his bookstore. So he has the history to prove that he has always been in it for the mere ideal.
Was he in it for hating the Jews (e.g., Henry Miller)? Bradley’s first wife was Jewish, and in those years living among and socializing with Jews was his daily bread. Later on, that made the more anti-Semitically inclined among his potential supporters suspicious, but the enemies of free speech could not justifiably call him an anti-Semite – although they still tried.
Was he in it for white supremacism? Bradley married an indigenous Mexican, which the more racially inclined among his potential supporters disliked, but his detractors had a hard time calling him a racist.
And so the list goes on. Bradley didn’t fit the mainstream’s clichés, and that’s another reason why he was so successful. People outside the revisionist community, the ones Bradley was most interested in talking to, were willing to listen because of him. They were willing to help because of him. They were willing to change their minds because of him.
Another aspect of his success was his creative chaos. I have always tried to properly organize my work and also my workplace, and having been in Brad’s office for seven months, I eventually couldn’t take it anymore and tried getting things a little bit organized there as well. It didn’t work. Bradley was willing to try, but he would always resort to the way he was used to doing things. To his credit, I must say that it seems like this creative chaos never really impeded the effectiveness of his work. I have never heard people on the outside complaining about resources getting squandered because of a lack of organization. Maybe the truth is that he needed this chaos. His creativity to try new things at an instance’s notice made his operation function and succeed to the degree it could. He didn’t waste time organizing things through. He just did them. Had his operation grown considerably beyond the one or two office helpers he had on occasion, his way of doing things might have faltered, but truth is, things never got out of control. He spent his time not with organizing things through, but always with trying to find new ways of circumventing the walls of silence surrounding revisionism and the struggle for free speech.
Another contributing factor to Bradley’s success, I might even say to his getting involved in revisionism in the first place, was his profound skepticism that there is something like “the truth” or “reality” which we can ever be certain of. I remember sitting in Brad’s office one of those long, agonizing days of waiting for news from the U.S. immigration services. For the first time I started reading and watching the material which the 9/11 Truth Movement had been putting out over the previous years during which I had been incarcerated. I ran into a scientific paper by a chemist on the massive amounts of nano-thermite found in the dust of the collapsed WTC Twin Towers. Up to that point I never fully bought into the theory that 9/11 was an inside job, but being myself a chemist, that analytical result swayed me.
It was a déjà-vu experience, because in 1989 I had had the very same experience when reading about Leuchter’s analytical findings on cyanide residues in the alleged gas chambers of Auschwitz. I got really excited about all this 9/11 stuff and was willing to once more throw myself into the battle. When I told this to Bradley, it took him only a few sentences to prick my balloon of illusions and let out all the hot air. How could I be sure of their findings? How could I be sure that there aren’t other explanations? How could I be sure I could contribute anything to the 9/11 Truth Movement’s struggle which they would value, or vice versa, which revisionists would cherish? Well, having a prominent Holocaust Denier in their midst would probably backfire for the 9/11 Truth Movement big time, I figured, so I changed my mind. We had many discussions where he made me see that I hadn’t considered this or that perspective. He never tried hard to change my mind, because that’s not how Bradley worked. He merely threw in his caveats, his humble opinion, inviting it to be considered. And this was so effective. I can at times be quite opinionated, but Bradley had the means to soften me and open up my mind. He worked like a mind relaxative on people.
Even when it comes to revisionist findings, Bradley had a very skeptical attitude. He was fairly sure that we revisionists were right in general, but when it came to the details, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even interested in finding out. The territory was too shifty, too unsteady. New findings would constantly move the goal posts in that game of trying to “hit the truth,” and he wasn’t interested in playing that game. He was interested, ironically, in opposing the institutionalization and enforcement of “Truths” such as the Holocaust in its authorized edition.
Where did his skepticism that “the truth” is knowable come from? He had not studied philosophy in general or epistemology in particular to have familiarized himself with the theories of humanity’s best thinkers as to why we can never be absolutely certain about “the ultimate truth” of anything. I think his approach was rather different, and very personal.
In a recent article he described briefly his humorous exchange he had with a psychiatrist about some of the odd experiences he had throughout his life, some of which he had described in his book A Personal History of Moral Decay. While I stayed with him, he told me several more of these episodes. A favorite story was when one of these days he saw a mouse floating in midair through his office. He knew it couldn’t be true, but he was quite fascinated by the sight. “There’s phenomena, but no symptom,” as his psychiatrist put it. Now, I could put a label on it, but I won’t because I’m not an expert, and I think any label primarily triggers prejudices rather than understanding.
Our brains are miraculous organs. During sleep they create an illusionary world full of at times quite realistic sights, smells, sounds and feelings, called dreams, while during wakefulness they confine themselves to receiving information through our senses and interpreting them as best as they can (which is frequently quite bad, by the way). At least that’s the way it should be. For some of us, that strict separation between sleep’s active illusions and wakefulness’s passive perception of reality doesn’t hold. The brain can create illusions at any time, not merely during sleep. For most of us this rarely ever happens, and if it does, it is so minor that we might not even notice it, or dismiss it as a quirk.
Bradley was different. Throughout his adult life, Bradley’s brain was on rare occasion playing peculiar tricks on him. They never were intrusive or frequent in such a way as to impede his life, but they made him always skeptical about whether his perceptions were real or not. He never trusted his own brain. This showed even in the way he often talked about his own brain doing peculiar things, making him think and do this and that. Bradley didn’t need to study philosophy to know that our brains are incapable of reliable perceiving reality. He knew it because he lived it. And so, when he hit the proverbial brick wall of Holocaustian dogmas claiming to be the incontrovertible and undeniable truth, the inevitable happened.
“How can we be sure?”
We cannot. He could not. And so he set out to tell everyone that it’s wrong to insist that we most certainly know the truth about “the Holocaust,” and that it is wrong to force people to believe in the one and only “truth” about this event. The Holocaust orthodoxy’s dogmatic attitude, backed by powerful lobby groups, by the Industry’s big money, and by almost all governments of the world, the U.N. included, was the extreme opposite of everything his brain told him. So he just couldn’t help it. He had to say it, he had to try to make the world understand that it’s just not right to pretend certainty when there can be no such thing.
Knowing one’s limits, also and especially one’s limit to be able to “know,” is one of the hallmarks of wisdom. Bradley was a wise man. And he was my best friend.
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But he was brave too. In his book "Break His Bones" there he is, travelling around, alone, from college campus to college campus, amid threats, to go on college radio stations and do interviews.
He created brouhahas that had college students hearing about revisionism for the first time, and the President of Harvard University commenting? as late as 80-81 years old.
I'm so sad at his passing.
February 19, 2016
My old friend Bradley has left us. During his lifetime I could not hide my strong liking for him. I admired him but, out of discretion, I dared not show or say it to him very much.
Now that he is no longer of this world I can go ahead and declare outright that, amongst all the people I have met in my long existence, he was one of the most worthy of admiration. He died on his 86th birthday. I am 87 years old and feel, as Louis-Ferdinand Celine put it, “the black Fate scraping my thread”. Bradley and I would joke about this situation: two avatars of Don Quixote, one of American nationality and the other Franco-British, one despite a lingering cancer and the other despite the after-effects of several physical assaults, we both persisted in fighting for the most ungrateful of causes, that of historical revisionism, as if death were not closely – very closely – lying in wait for us.
At the very moment that I’m writing these lines, I find myself suddenly forced to interrupt this evocation of my dear friend Bradley Smith. I’m sorry about this. My intention was to show the degree to which our respective destinies, so different from one another, were nonetheless called upon to join together in the same struggle. Today revisionism has won that struggle completely on the historical and scientific level while, as concerns our arguments’ diffusion in the general public, thanks in particular to Bradley Smith, the spread of revisionism carries on scoring points despite the deafening holocaustic drumming everywhere, and notwithstanding police and judicial repression in many countries.
But I cannot take leave of my reader without offering at least an idea of what managed to unite, from 1979 to 2016, Bradley Smith and Robert Faurisson, “Two true friends”, Jean de La Fontaine would have said. The first reference below is for a text summarising an interview of Robert Faurisson by Bradley Smith, and the second is for Robert Faurisson’s foreword of a book by Bradley Smith. The third is for a description of revisionism’s total victory on the historical and scientific level.
See you soon, dear Bradley!
http://robertfaurisson.blogspot.fr/1983 ... obert.html
http://robertfaurisson.blogspot.fr/2005 ... ivate.html
http://robertfaurisson.blogspot.fr/2015 ... ry-on.html
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