Always remember: Asians hate, hate, hate Whites.
An Asiatrix from Malaysia writes the following on van Vogt’s The Voyage of the Space Beagle (emphasis added):
One reads the classics not to be entertained, but to learn the foundations of the genre (an especially important endeavour for those of us whose academic lives revolve around genre). I am rarely entertained by such works--they're rooted in certain assumptions of humanity that can only elicit "a white man totally wrote this" for someone like myself. The protagonist is the Gariest Stu I've read in a while (only because I avoid white male protagonists these days) and while I find Nexialism the concept very interesting, there was an undercurrent of smug superiority in the guise of earnest desire to improve the human race. (Similarly in Slan there is a smug superiority in the guise of oppressed evolved being.) It's a narrative that appeals to a certain class of the bullied, and hence clear to see its appeal. I may give this a re-read, and purposefully read Elliott Grosvenor as a black man for the sheer thought experiment it will provide.
This bizarre Asiatic alien is so consumed with hatred, she doesn't even care, or mention, that one of the prominent (and positively portrayed) characters in the book is specifically Japanese.
It is quite clear: the existential meaning of Asians is hatred of Whites and (as Yockey said) denial of the West. An alliance with these creatures? Madness. You do not make alliances with those whose only purpose of existence is hatred of yourself.
And somewhere, someplace, van Vogt is frowning.