• Introduction
• Original Sin
• Marxism
• Political Correctness
• The Federal Government
• America’s Tar Baby
• BIBLIOGRAPHY

Marxism

His name was Karl Marx, a teenage German whose nickname, aptly earned, was "Destroy."

As I write this the air outside my window is black and thick with the rumble of thunder. Not just regular, rolling-off-into-the distance thunder, but a thunder stomping the earth with a vengeance powered by cosmic determination. The summer monsoon season in Florida usually produces these storms in the afternoon, but tonight, perhaps appropriately, as I think of the name Karl Marx, the lightning flashes from cloud to earth, from cloud to cloud in cataclysmic fury, like those horrible, devouring monsters in Goya’s paintings. A chill just passed down my spine, not because of the lightning, but because the thought just came to me that I have used the wrong tense in that question, "Who was Karl Marx?" Maybe it should be "Who is Karl Marx?" He is still with us, in that thunder and lightning, more resilient and more durable than Original Sin, more subtle and cunning than any Brer Fox in a story by Uncle Remus.

Like Lenin and Castro, Marx was not born into the suffering working class. His father, a Jewish lawyer, was descended from a long line of rabbis. In 1818, the year Karl was born, the elder Marx converted to Christianity, and indeed his son sounds like a medieval monk when in his student days he wrote that if we can follow the ideal of Christ in our lives "we can never be crushed by burdens, because they are only sacrifices made for the sake of all." Furthermore, Christ will give us "an inner elevation, comfort in sorrow, calm trust, and a heart susceptible to human love, to everything noble and great, not for the sake of ambition and glory, but only for the sake of Christ."

Then something happened. Young Marx met a man named Moses Hess, "the Communist Rabbi." Hess was involved with Satanism. We need only read these lines from a play Marx wrote as a student to realize the influence:

If there is a Something which devours,

I’ll leap within it, though I bring the world to ruins--

The world which bulks between me and the abyss

I will smash to pieces with my enduring curses.

I’ll throw my arms around its harsh reality.

Embracing me, the world will dumbly pass away,

And then sink down to utter nothingness,

Perished, with no existence--that would be really living.

This, of course, could be just an ordinary death wish from a mixed-up teenager wallowing in his own ego, but there seems to be a larger agenda here than mere suicide. Throughout this poem all action comes from the "I." The world is there, but he will bring it to ruin, he will "smash [it] to pieces with my enduring curses." The world will sink "to utter nothingness." Not just into nothingness, but into "no existence"--for anybody, Marx or the world. "That would be really living."

Ah, well, you say, this is just juvenile nihilism, or the reaction of an essentially sensitive, religious boy regretting (and deeply resenting) his father’s conversion from Judaism to Christianity, which led to a change in his own beliefs. You may well say that, until you read a poem called Invocation of One in Despair:

So a god has snatched from me my all,

In the curse and rack of destiny.

All his worlds are gone beyond recall.

Nothing but revenge is left to me.

Revenge is now his modus operandi, giving him power:

Then I will be able to walk triumphantly,

Like a god, through the ruins of their kingdom.

Every word of mine is fire and action.

My breast is equal to that of the Creator.

He sounds as if he has eaten of that tree in the Garden, and has become a god! Is this still childish nonsense, adolescent bombast? The idea of nonsense is quickly followed by a chill down the back as we read a poem called The Player. Satan is the god he now worships:

The hellish vapors rise and fill the brain,

Till I go mad and my heart is utterly changed.

See the sword?

The prince of darkness

Sold it to me.

For me he beats the time and gives the signs.

Ever more boldly I play the dance of death.

If you are still avoiding the implication of Satanism, here is a poem Marx wrote for his father’s fifty-fifth birthday:

Because I discovered the highest,

And because I found the deepest through meditation.

I am great like a God;

I clothe myself in darkness like Him.

Marx entered Berlin University and received a degree in philosophy. For his doctoral thesis he chose as his motto the cry of Prometheus: "I hate all the gods." He was no longer a child. He received the degree in 1841, at the age of twenty-three.

Still, to be fair, you say, all this fetid poetry might be just a religious aberration. Surely he felt sympathy for the working classes? Wasn’t that what the original Marxist effort was all about? In New World Order, William T. Still carefully reviews the efforts of the Marxist apologists to clean up the translations and to present Marx as the great emancipator. A myth was born when Ramsey MacDonald, the first Socialist prime minister of Great Britain, described Marx as "the tender man who never saw a poverty-stricken child on the road without patting its head and ministering to its wants." Had Mr. MacDonald, who became prime minister in 1924, forty-one years after Marx’s death, seen Marx patting a child’s head? When we turn to a contemporary, the Russian anarchist Mikhail Bakunin, we get a different picture. Bakunin stressed the influence of Satan on revolutionary friends, and the fact that a revolution does not exist to free the poor from economic bondage, but to "awaken the Devil in the people, to stir up the basest passions. Our mission is to destroy, not to edify." In the twentieth century Albert Camus, the French proponent of existentialism (a spin-off from Marxism, with its emphasis on the isolated individual in a hostile universe), saw the need to reevaluate the writings of Marx, given the fact that thirty volumes had never been printed--and if they were, Camus wrote, "a new Marx would emerge in the eyes of the world." Professor M. Michedlov, of the Marx Institute in Moscow, revealed in 1980 that as many as a hundred volumes were in the collection, yet only thirteen had been reprinted.

Two years after getting his degree Marx married Jenny von Westphalen, the daughter of a high government official. On her mother’s side she was a lineal descendant of the earl of Argyle. The young couple moved to Paris so that Marx could "study French communism." Poor Jenny would follow Marx from Paris to Brussels to Cologne and finally to London, living in near-poverty, bearing six children. Only three would reach adulthood, and of these three, two would commit suicide. Marx was a heavy drinker, and taught his children to drink. Once he wrote a friend begging for money, using the excuse that "the children appear to have inherited a lust for drink from their father." One can only imagine Jenny’s misery in Soho as she watched her husband pursue his revolutionary dreams through one short-lived newspaper or "review" after another. The Deutsch-franzosische Jahrbucher (which had only one issue) published two articles. The first contended that the social emancipation of the Jews could only be accomplished by the breaking away of society from Judaism, which represented commercialism. (Was the bitterness of his father’s conversion to Christianity still haunting him? Without presuming to psychoanalyze Karl Marx, one can’t help but wonder how much that disappointment fueled his rejection of all religion.) The second article expanded his radical agenda to all of Germany. There was, he declared, no hope of even a partial political emancipation in that country. Only total warfare--from one class--could dissolve constituted authority. That class was the proletariat.

Shortly after his move to Paris Marx met Friedrich Engels, the wealthy son of a textile manufacturer. Like Marx, Engels had fallen under the influence of the Satanist "rabbi," Moses Hess, who boasted that after only one meeting, Engels left him as an "overzealous Communist. This is how I produce ravages." The Communist Manifesto, written by Marx and Engels, would confirm Herr Hess’s opinion of his teaching. In that book the revolution would take the inevitable path from capitalism to socialism to communism. The aim was the annihilation of capitalism. In the Manifesto (1848) Marx wrote: "There is but one way of simplifying, shortening, concentrating, the death agony of the old society as well as the bloody labor of the new world’s birth--Revolutionary Terror." As for any love lost on the workers, we have some very discerning comments from a contemporary, the Socialist Guillaume, Secretary of the First Internationale (International Working Man’s Association, established in London in 1864). He saw Engels as a rich man’s son who regarded the workers as cannon fodder, and Marx as a Johnny-come-lately who had never come into touch with the working classes. He lumped them both together in a stinging rebuke: "They felt no more for the workers than the iron master feels for the metal he welds into shape." This vast proletariat was conveniently available to become Marx’s springboard, his modus operandi, indispensable for his political and economic agenda of Control.

One wonders how Marx could have avoided feeling sympathy for them. Working conditions in the factories, mines and sweat shops of the nineteenth century were atrocious. Humanitarian efforts were justified. Workers in industrialized countries still had fond memories of a time when they enjoyed the fruits of their own farms, their own apprenticeship-learned, at-home trades. Realistically, these fond memories were just that--memories of another time, another place, far removed from their present condition of vile-smelling, literally breath-taking, back-breaking labor. If you were Karl Marx, looking for victims ready to follow any promise of a better life, you didn’t have to look far.

But to fully understand Marx, we won’t start with his victims. They are for him just a means to an end. He was more concerned with developing Socialism as a doctrine of class warfare far removed from the unscientific Utopia-builders he barely tolerated. They were much too practical, living in the present. In Das Kapital (1867) Marx becomes an Old Testament prophet whose whole being, whose whole effort, is projected into the future. Then the ultimate victory (after the masses are completely subdued by the We-care-for-you propaganda) will arrive with the utter, complete, final destruction of capitalism. THAT is the true agenda of Marx. Was he a madman? Or merely in an alcoholic fog? He had enough shrewdness about him to realize that, to become reality, this effort must be subtle--subtle to the point of obscurity, enmeshed in the hocus-pocus of Academe, where indoctrinated professors could become masters at philosophical sleight-of-hand. So. Are you ready to plunge through the Looking Glass and run as fast as you can to stay in the same place? Are you ready to fall headfirst into an academic black hole and come out on the other side where words have been turned inside out and upside down, so there is no longer any dependable meaning?

We will start with Heraclitus. That sounds safe enough--a Greek philosopher who said that we can never step into the same river twice. Ah, but that little thought opens the floodgates of Contradiction. We are in the water, but not the same water. It changes by the minute, by the second. We have stepped into the first quagmire, the question of Reality. What is Reality? Far from being dismayed by this question, the professors are elated, for anything that is complicated must be intellectual, and anything that is simple must be stupid. So, the more complicated you can make an idea the more erudite you can pretend to be, the more you can elevate yourself above the unwashed masses with nebulous explications of arcane definitions, and a chance to parade your brains before your colleagues, who will now praise you for your profound dissections of truth, which now lies bleeding and helpless on the altar of your ego. One suspects that’s how Marx started. Remember those Satanic yearnings to destroy the world? To be "just like a God"? One of my students concluded succinctly and with finality: "He was a nut case."

Yet the "nut case" is still with us, and we must deal with him, like it or not, for our American culture is slowly sinking into the muck of Marxism, as we shall discover shortly. Now it is our inescapable if not reluctant duty to return to the mid-nineteenth century, to those miserable digs of Karl and Jenny in Soho.

When the fledgling followers of Marx looked for a hero who could lead them through his intellectually complicated semantic wilderness to a new vision of Eden, they found Hegel. And what a delightful moment that must have been, to discover a philosopher brave enough to serve up pure nonsense in a maze of words, in an absolutely magnificent spider-web of metaphysics that became its own justification for a new brand of stupidity. When I contemplate my own life, I can’t believe that I wrote a dissertation on Hegel for my Ph.D. It was, I suppose, my final tribute, a votive offering left on the shards of my intelligence as I walked away from the archaeological dig of graduate school. Now, I have invited you to come with me on another excavation, a kind of forensic exhumation of Karl Marx. We must tread lightly here, or we will trip in the mud and never get out.

First, Hegel takes Heraclitus literally. The world--truth--reality is forever changing, is never, like the water, the same. But, you ask (because you are luckily still sane, and not an expert), how can we know reality? By realizing that nothing--absolutely nothing--is stable. How do we cope with this shifting sand under our feet? By accepting the fact that change--not just change, but imminent change--is here to stay, that the only way we can cope with it is to reject the present reality for SOMETHING NEW. We are driven for our own survival incessantly, compulsively, toward this something new to get away from the awful realization that reality contains this constant change. But what is that change? It is not just simple change (that would be too unintellectual), but something much more sinister. We have fallen into that black hole, remember? Change is now an ever-present, unavoidable unstable coexistence of incompatible forces. In other words, there exist opposing elements--contradictions--within reality that cause a constant conflict threatening destruction.

Yet we must accept this conflict, for it is absolutely necessary for the continued life of the thing, or the idea, or the reality we are dealing with. In other words, we have reached that moment when we can contemplate Hegel’s DIALECTIC, the war within a thing that, through the push-and-pull of contradictions, becomes a "unity of opposites." If we are now at the point where we want to write Hegel off as a person who has known too many disagreeable married couples, we must remind ourselves that we have left the real world and now stand in the rarified atmosphere of Hegelian metaphysics--a reality beyond reality, a dialectical view of existence inherently changeful, combative--even destructive--when two incompatible forces, through their conflict, evolve into a result. Being implies non-Being. Together they form a third thing, Becoming. Thus a dichotomy of two opposites has turned these opposites upside down and inside out to create Something Else. With his dialectic Hegel provided Marxist professors with enough ambiguity to warrant endless lectures on the nature of reality, a reality so nebulous that it floats far above the understanding of "ordinary" people, unlucky enough (or lucky enough) to have escaped the realm of the educated elite. We have met our first Tar Baby.

But how do you relate all this to Marx, to his agenda for destroying capitalism?

By dumbing down the public with enough propaganda posing as knowledge until the "average" man can’t tell the difference between truth and fiction. One of the premises of Marx was that reality is not what "is," but what we make it. In other words, we invent knowledge and reality. We invent history. We accept the swirling ambiguity of a dialectical universe (with its opposing forces forever in conflict) and realize that the only escape is toward something new--i.e. a new car, a new job, a new wife, ad infinitum. Marx went a step further than Hegel, for he saw this need for something new as the crux, the central, inner motivation of capitalism--EXPANSION. To expand, to discover, to find new markets, new products, to go to Mars, and if Mars doesn’t exist, to invent it. To keep moving, to keep looking, to nourish a restless, unquenchable desire. To create the idea of the obsolete, which would become a salesman’s dream. Yet emphasizing expansion doesn’t explain capitalism. How did it start, anyway? And who are these workers? Why did their welfare become the raison d’etre of Marxism? Did Marx really care that much about the workers? His contemporary, Guillaume, certainly didn’t think so. Marx never really worked (in the sense of labor) a day in his life. Was he just naturally kind-hearted, as the British Prime Minister MacDonald thought? For an answer to that we must descend even deeper into the mind of Marx. But watch out! It is deep--even abysmal.

Yet brilliant! Ah, yes, with the brilliance of an incisive stiletto. Let’s start with labor. Labor is the motor which runs the machine of production, without which capitalism could not exist. It is capital’s job, on the other hand, to hold down the cost of this labor to a minimum, in order to increase profit. The next step, as the eighteenth century economist Adam Smith pointed out in his Wealth of Nations, is a "division of labor," some method by which time and effort can be given quantitative value, a "bottom line," as it were, to be subtracted from the price of a commodity so that the capitalist can know the amount of his profit. To be cost-effective, this labor must now undergo a further refinement, some kind of lumping-together of specialized activity that will result in a new definition. Labor can no longer be just the sweat of effort or the hours given to a particular job, but will include the social relationships created by these new working arrangements. No longer will the worker be a lonely farmer plowing his own field, or a cobbler making a shoe beside his hearth, but a worker in an industrialized setting with a particular skill shared by his fellow workers in a time frame dictated by the factory owner. Thus a new form of labor is born, one that can be bought or sold like grain or coal or potatoes. This new form of labor Marx called Labor Power. No longer is a man’s labor merely embedded in the pair of shoes he makes, becoming a part of that commodity--a man’s labor is a commodity in its own right. It is a power capable of contributing to a profit. It now has, to use Marx’s phrase, "use value." It can truly be bought and sold, immaterial and invisible as it is. The source of the factory owner’s profit is now the difference between this labor power ( human energy and intelligence bought as a commodity) and the value of the product produced. Thus we are led to the crowning jewel of Marxian thought: that this difference between labor power and product value is the source of surplus.

SURPLUS VALUE is the key to understanding not only Marx, but socialism and his ultimate goal--communism. By dividing and sub-dividing workers from the wealth of the factory owner, surplus value fuels a continuing class struggle, which is at the heart of capitalism, and necessary for its existence, just as the inner contradictions of Hegel’s dialectic are necessary for the existence of reality. We see the constant promotion and nurturing of the American class struggle in the outraged knee-jerk reaction of liberals whenever a conservative talks of a tax cut. Suddenly any tax cut inspires the outraged cry of "a tax cut for the rich"--by people forgetting that any reduction will be greater for the rich, since they pay more taxes. On the other hand, workers become children needing to be taken care of by a welfare state, which dictates everything from education to doctor’s fees--thus increasing, to the unknowing workers, the control exerted by a capitalist government plunging toward socialism. The rulers of this capitalist government, for their part, have discovered other means of control over labor, less philanthropic but more honest (if by "honest" we mean obedient to the economic constraints of democracy). This control over labor was a step-by-step reining in of the power of the individual that needed an elaborate governmental "system" to succeed. It will require careful explanation here if we are to understand our present political dilemma.

We have seen that labor, through its "use value" in a product, becomes the sole potentially available source of profit in that product, since the price of the commodity minus the cost of labor becomes "surplus value"--the real secret of what came to be called "the power of labor." But the capitalist soon realized that labor had another value--that of exchange. Using this "exchange value," the capitalist government can now trade off unemployment against inflation--it can actually create unemployment in order to hold down wage increases, thus restraining inflation. In the nineteen thirties the misnamed Federal Reserve ( a cartel of selected banks neither "federal" nor "reserve," which we must examine more carefully later) caused the Crash of ‘29--and the subsequent Depression-- by pushing down American interest rates to draw investments from the United States to England, in desperate financial straits and in need of investments after the First World War. Billions crossed the Atlantic. The "insiders" knew what was happening; they planned it. John D. Rockefeller, Bernard Baruch, and Joseph Kennedy sold stocks just before the Crash, then bought them back at bargain prices. Paul Warburg (one of the creators of the Federal Reserve and the inspiration for "Daddy Warbucks" in Little Orphan Annie) advised his friends that the Crash was coming seven months before, and actually invited Winston Churchill to the visitors’ gallery in the New York Stock Exchange the day it happened.

What can the workers do? They have nothing to sell but their labor. If they remember that, besides having "use" and "exchange" value, their labor holds the key to profit, they can strike. They can form unions. If sales decline and profits fall - - if the beloved "surplus" of the factory owner begins to disappear, he, in turn, will look around for solutions. In Das Kapital, the book Marx co-authored with Engels, he lists these solutions. The capitalist can either overwork his employees or decrease their wages; he can buy machinery ("dead" labor); he can use unemployed labor or sell abroad through foreign countries. In the twenty-first century we now have "technology" taking the place of machines, trade deficits with China--even the movement of whole factories to Mexico via NAFTA. Result: mammoth government agencies dictating every economic action of its citizens. The IRS is the ultimate example, rewarding those with deep-debt mortgages with "deductions" and playing the "targeted tax cut" game to discourage marriage, to control child-bearing, even death.

Can the Academic World clarify Marxism for us? Professor Robert Heilbroner, in his Marxism: For and Against, is more "for" than "against." As he describes his own pro-Marx position, he condemns capitalism in a fog of double talk. The italics are mine:

"Marxism is thought realized in action...an activity systematically deformed and denied under capitalist conditions of production. Thus a first objective for socialism is the restoration to man of the stolen

powers of self-expression and fulfillment that lie in work."

How is thought "deformed and denied"--or self-expression "stolen" by capitalism?

 

He quotes Marx and Engels from The German Ideology:

 

"In imagination individuals seem freer under the dominance of the

bourgeoisie than before, because their conditions of life seem

accidental [?]; in reality, of course, they are less free, because they

are more subjected to the violence of things."

Is there more violence in capitalism than in socialism or communism? Should we exchange the ballot box for the gulag?

"Socialism becomes that phase of history in which mankind will be

released both from the bondage of material insufficiency and from

its servitude to the power of mystification." [?]

The only mystification here seems to be the good professor’s intentions. Are you ready for more? (The italics are mine.)

"Freedom under socialism would therefore entail the release of

individuals from these imperatives [private property]. This is turn

requires that the blind and impersonal forces of economic life be

replaced by a conscious direction of the interaction of men and

women with nature and among themselves....Where blind economic

obedience was, conscious political will must be."

Aren’t you anxious to enter this new world where you can shed the worries of your private property and relax under a "conscious political will" that will allow you to have relationships with other people and with nature? Didn’t we have these before Marx told us how to live? The good professor does admit that Marxism "will not definitely resolve the problems of freedom." "Who could do that?" he asks rhetorically, as if the problems of freedom are beyond mathematical dimensions. Yet the Marxists should not be discouraged. With some expectation he writes that "the doom of capitalism is that it creates technical structures of production that exceed its institutions of social control." Marx would be pleased. If he should arrive in America today he would find that doom quickly approaching, since our computer nerds on Wall Street are multiplying at an alarming rate, and will soon threaten to outnumber our oppressive bureaucrats in Washington! When the bureaucrats are out of business, we truly will be finished. But not to worry. Marxism, by taking care of us completely, from abortion to prescription drugs, will enter its final, spiritual phase. Professor Heilbroner turns his podium into a pulpit when he writes that "Marxism bears so many resemblances to a universal Church in endowing human existence with meaning and purpose....a dialectical view of reality [which] should help clarify our knowledge of the world....And socialism--the Grail of Marxism--must continue to exert its influence as long as humanity suffers the unnecessary bondages imposed by its own social organization, a condition that is certain to persist for generations." We certainly hope so.

*~*~*~*~*~*

We have mentioned the Federal Reserve. It is, as we have said, really a cartel of independent banks acting not as anything "Federal" (implying that it is a government entity belonging to the people) or a "Reserve" (implying that it is the guardian of the U.S. money supply), but a private club protecting its members from competition and the threat of bankruptcy. John Kenneth Galbraith, the Harvard historian/socialist, praised the creation as a chance to "outflank the opposition" without even using the word "bank" in its title. For this "reserve" is a dream-come-true, a utopia for bankers where the blame for defaulted loans can be shifted, through a bailout scam with Congress, onto the American taxpayer. It is Brer Fox convincing Brer Rabbit to get stuck forever in a Tar Baby, playing on the rabbit’s self-interest. In this case, the Senate and the House of Representatives were hoodwinked into believing that unless they protected these vultures, Congress would be in danger of being blamed for doing great damage to the economy and to the American people. In other words, the members of this cartel are playing a giant shell game. The joke is that the money under the shells is worth exactly NOTHING. There is nothing behind the paper money so grandly guarded by this high-sounding "institution." No gold, no silver. Play money--so-called "fiat" money (meaning "arbitrary" money), used by Lincoln in 1862, who sounded like a kid with a new toy :

"The privilege of creating and issuing money is not only the

supreme prerogative of the government but it is the government’s

greatest creative opportunity."

Frightening, isn’t it? Marx must be chuckling in his grave. Not only do we have a closed-door, secret society controlling interest rates, inflation and unemployment, but worthless money, and a "Chairman of the Federal Reserve" not elected by the people, whose every sneeze makes The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal jump. How did this happen? The story is captured with all the intensity of a whodunit in a real page-turner of a book called The Creature from Jekyll Island by G. Edward Griffin, published in 1994.

The year is 1910, on a chilly November night in the New Jersey train station. The last railroad car of a southbound train waiting departure is a shiny black private car with the name "Aldrich" on its sides. Inside are seven men representing one-fourth of the wealth of the entire world. They are supposedly leaving for a duck-hunting trip to the privately owned Jekyll Island, one of the sea islands off the Georgia coast unconnected to shore by a bridge or road. A launch will take them across the water to the grand, sprawling Jekyll Island Inn, where for nine days they will use only first names, and where the full-time staff, given vacations, have been replaced by carefully-screened temporary servants.

Who were these seven men? The list is interesting. "Aldrich" was Senator Nelson Aldrich of Rhode Island, Republican whip, Chairman of the National Monetary Commission, and most importantly a business associate of J.P. Morgan (father-in-law of John D. Rockefeller, Jr.). Henry P. Davison, senior partner of the J.P. Morgan Company. Charles D. Norton, president of J.P. Morgan’s First National Bank of New York. Benjamin Strong, head of J.P. Morgan’s Bankers Trust Company. Abraham Piatt Andrew, Assistant Secretary of the U.S. Treasury. Frank A. Vanderlip, president of the National City Bank of New York, representing William Rockefeller and the international investment banking house of Kuhn, Loeb and Company. Paul M. Warburg, a partner in Kuhn, Loeb and Company, and brother to Max Warburg, head of the Warburg banking consortium in Germany and the Netherlands.

I have italicized the names "Morgan," "Rockefeller," "Kuhn & Loeb" and "Warburg" for good reason. For that reason we must leave America and go back to Europe into the mid-nineteenth century to--who else? Karl Marx, who, in Das Kapital, denounced capitalism but failed to mention--even once--the most important name in, one could argue with great conviction, the monetary history of the world.

That name is Rothschild. J. P. Morgan was the Rothschild agent in America. The firm of Kuhn, Loeb and Company represented the Rothschild banking dynasty in England and France. Through Kuhn, Loeb and Company the Rothschilds financed

John D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil empire. Paul "Daddy Warbucks" Warburg (of the Crash of 1929 fame) was another Rothschild insider. When I visited Jekyll Island recently I went to the famous Jekyll Inn and asked the girl at the desk if I could see the room where the Federal Reserve was created. She looked surprised and momentarily uncomfortable, then found the key and walked with me down an elegant hallway to a door with a brass plaque bearing that momentous name. It was a double room, as spotless as a museum. I stood on a plush carpet beside a fireplace and looked at the far wall, completely covered with framed photographs. There they were--Aldrich and Vanderlip, Davison, Norton, Strong, Andrew and lastly Warburg, the munitions baron, with his bald head, ample moustache and steady eyes, looking as if he had just stepped out of the comic strip. Under the tall ceiling with its polished chandeliers, in the slanting light of a summer afternoon flooding the high windows I felt like Orphan Annie herself, come to pay homage.

The Rothschild dynasty began in Frankfurt, Germany, in the middle of the eighteenth century. The family name was Bauer, but over the door of their goldsmith’s shop stood a red shield with an eagle. Mayer Bauer became a bank clerk and then a junior partner in a bank in Hanover. When he returned to Frankfurt he added five arrows to the talons of the eagle (for his five sons) and changed the German name roth (red) schild (shield) to Rothschild. His sons proved to be financial wizards in their own right, learning the magic of changing debt into money. The Rothschilds became the personal financial advisers for most of the royal rulers of Europe.

Through their agents they manipulated markets from England to America to Australia. They financed diamond mines for Cecil Rhodes in South Africa and the steel empire of Andrew Carnegie in the United States. After Lord Balfour’s declaration of 1917 establishing a Jewish homeland in the British protectorate of Palestine (on the condition that "nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of the existing non-Jewish communities....") the House of Rothschild financed the establishment of Israel. In the mid-nineteenth century, as Marx and Engels were writing Das Kapital, the popular saying was "There is only one power in Europe, and its name is Rothschild." They supported wars, not caring who won. Their tour deforce was the use of secrecy. They developed a courier system that provided them with battlefield reports even before the victorious sovereigns received the news. There is one story about Nathan Rothschild’s knowledge of Wellington’s victory at Waterloo hours before it reached the British Prime Minister. Nathan went immediately to the London stock exchange and took up his usual position. In The Creature from Jekyll Island the author describes the scene vividly:

All eyes were upon him as he slumped dejectedly, staring at

the floor. Then, he raised his gaze and, with pained expression, began

to sell. The whisper went through the crowded room, "Nathan is selling?’ "Nathan is selling!" "Wellington must have lost." "Our government bonds will never be repaid." "Sell them now. Sell Sell!"

Prices tumbled, and Nathan sold again. Prices plummeted, and

still Nathan sold. Finally, prices collapsed altogether and, in one quick

move, Nathan reversed his call and purchased the entire market in

government bonds. In a matter of just a few hours, he had acquired

the dominant holding of England’s entire debt at but a tiny fraction of

its worth.

These are the tactics that dictated and dominated the thinking of Morgan, Rockefeller, Warburg, the whole Federal Reserve.

They were not new. Banking began in Europe in the fourteenth century. It was more convenient to issue paper slips as receipts for hard currency than the gold itself. Then the demand for more money caused unscrupulous bankers to issue "bank notes" beyond their reserves, causing these receipts to multiply to the point that they were worthless. Thus fractional-reserve banking was born, and we have had boom and bust ever since. The idea of a national, or "central" bank is also not new. The Bank of England, established in 1694, by restricting other banks from issuing bank notes, became a monopoly in 1708. Alexander Hamilton established the First Bank of the United States in 1792. And thereby, as they say, hangs a tale.

Twelve years before, in the summer of 1780, a chain of events began which would lead to the Bank’s destruction. In the wild Catawba River country near the border of North and South Carolina, local boys were hastily recruited to resist a British invasion. At the age of thirteen Andrew Jackson participated in the battle of Hanging Rock. The next year, with his older brother, he tried unsuccessfully to capture a body of British troops at Waxhaw church. The boys were taken prisoner. When Andrew refused to black an officer’s boots he received a saber blow which left him marked for life. Later that year, in October, Cornwallis would surrender to George Washington at Yorktown, but young Andy Jackson would never overcome the outrage he felt for anything English.

The feeling was mutual, especially between the more affluent Anglophiles of "New" England and this boorish, poorly educated frontiersman when he became President. Their disdain became alarm when Old Hickory, hero of the Battle of New Orleans, set his sights on their Holy of Holies, the Bank of the United States. They saw it as the bastion of the monied class to be held at any cost against this champion of the masses; he saw it, with its concentration of financial power, as a threat to democracy. Indeed, Jackson was not the only critic of this central bank which had created much ill will by its pressure on the increasing number of small banks in a growing country--so much so that Congress refused to renew its charter in 1812. Yet money, even then, spoke loudly, and four years later a Second Bank of the United States was established. Its charter would expire in 1836, but the continuing opposition against the bank caused its renewal to become a major campaign issue in the election of 1832. In fact, ill feeling against the bank was so high that when Jackson was reelected that year he could consider his denunciation of the bank a mandate from the people. In an unprecedented (and even until now never to have been repeated) move he declared that no one branch of government had the right to declare the constitutionality of any act, even the Supreme Court, which he defied by removing from the Bank the total amount of government deposits--ten million dollars.

When his Treasury Secretary protested, he fired him. When the next Secretary protested, Jackson replaced him with a third Secretary, who proved more amenable. Thus Jackson freed the country from the shackles of a monopoly he considered immoral. He immediately shifted deposits from the Second Bank of the United States to state banks, which were quickly nicknamed Jackson’s "pet" banks. He asked for a law rendering the government independent of all banks, with the revenues to be kept in the Treasury, which would issue its own money. Congress obliged, and in the following administration (Van Buren’s), the Independent Treasury Bill took the fiscal affairs of the nation out of the hands of the banks, ending Old Hickory’s long battle against his old enemies, although sometimes that saber cut still hurt.

What does Andrew Jackson’s fear of a central bank have to do with Marx?

Marx was only ten years old when Jackson became President. Yet the answer could, with good reason, be: Everything. For a central bank meant control--control of the monetary, even the social life of a country. Perhaps the wiley Jackson, with the instinct of a free man who had survived the frontier, sensed the dangers of a central bank that contained--although he could not then know it--the two tenets of Marxism: the ultimate destruction of capitalism through the redistribution of wealth. His rejection of the Bank and his creation of his "pet" banks came to be known as "the Revolution of 1828," which fascinated Alexis de Tocqueville, a Frenchman who visited the United States from May, 1831 to February, 1832. De Tocqueville discovered in those nine months the heartbeat, the blood flow, the adrenaline of America that has never been analyzed deeper or described better than in his Democracy in America, published in 1835. He saw, as Andrew Jackson did, the danger of concentrated power in a democracy founded on individual freedom. Given what we know now his words sound prophetic. Even more amazing is his trenchant understanding of our misplaced trust in a centralized government and the dangerous belief that such a government can insure our security by sacrificing our freedom. But let de Tocqueville speak for himself:

De Tocqueville could be speaking of America as we know it: Social Security, Medicare, Child Care, the Inheritance tax, and for our entertainment, the Stock Market, political conventions, and an afternoon watching our favorite football team, or the Daytona 500. He predicts that despotism in a democracy "would be more extensive and more mild; it would degrade men without tormenting them..." But he is puzzled. The italics are mine:

"I think, then, that the species of oppression by which democratic

nations are menaced is unlike anything which ever before existed in the world; our contemporaries will find no prototype of it in their memories. I seek in vain for an expression which will accurately convey the whole of the idea I have formed of it; the old words despotism and tyranny are inappropriate: the thing itself is new, and since I cannot name, I must attempt to define it."

He is really speaking, although he can’t know it, of Marxism. When he does attempt to define this "new thing" he comes close to a description of Hegel’s dialectic. Amazingly, he not only predicts a growing tendency toward socialism, but gives an unflattering picture of the American electorate:

"Our contemporaries are constantly excited by two conflicting

passions: they want to be led, and they wish to remain free: as they

cannot destroy either the one or the other of these contrary propensities, they strive to satisfy them both at once. They devise a sole, tutelary, and all-powerful form of government, but elected by the people....By this system, the people shake off their state of dependence just long enough to select their master, and then relapse into it again."

But he doesn’t seem to have much hope that we can shake off the mind-numbing experience of Big Brother and still retain enough judgment to exercise our right to vote:

"....It is in vain to summon a people, who have been rendered so dependent on the central power, to choose from time to time the representatives of that power: this rare and brief exercise of their free choice, however important it may be, will not prevent them from gradually losing the faculties of thinking, feeling, and acting for themselves, and thus gradually falling below the level of humanity. I add, that they will soon become incapable of exercising the great and only privilege which remains to them. The democratic nations which have introduced freedom into their political constitution, at the very time when they were augmenting the despotism of their administrative consti-tution, have been led into strange paradoxes."

Strange paradoxes. Oh, Alexis de Tocqueville, you were in the United States only nine months. Can we imagine that those hardy frontiersmen had really succumbed to " petty and paltry pleasures" that had "glutted" their lives? Yet, even with this criticism, your analysis is searing, even prophetic. There is a danger inherent in democracy that men will expect too much from their government, simply because they have expected so much of themselves. The 1830's was a time for physical strength, quick wit and sudden decisions, not philosophical arguments about economics--or the need to preserve one’s vigilance in peacetime--these pioneers had done enough of that in order to win their freedom from obvious tyranny. Perhaps, to give de Tocqueville his due, these Americans were more reserved about their political feelings than the eloquent Frenchman suspected.

Jackson’s "Revolution of 1828" lasted until the Federal Reserve was created in 1913 -- eighty-five years. Although he had, in 1833, created a new system of state banks, his ultimate goal was a treasury independent from the shackles of any monopoly he deemed too great, with morals too loose, and not necessarily in the best interests of the country. His final victory came in the 1839-1840 session of Congress, under the administration of the next president, Martin Van Buren, when the Treasury Bill became law, taking the fiscal affairs of the nation out of the hands of the banks entirely and giving to Treasury the right to issue its own money based on the metal in its vaults.

That situation lasted until the Civil War, when the supply of money backed by precious metal became too small to pay for the enormous deficits the war incurred—not only in fighting the South but in appeasing the North, where, as the war went on, enthusiasm for dying for a rich man’s slaves became increasingly less patriotic. The solution, for Lincoln, was to ignore the Constitution. First, he nullified habeas corpus, and silenced his critics--some prominent editors of Northern newspapers-- with prison. Second, he issued the "Emancipation Proclamation" which freed nobody--not the slaves in the South, where, since secession, the United States had no jurisdiction--nor the slaves in the North, explicitly excluded from inclusion in the freedom promised because "the Constitution promised protection of property." The Proclamation did accomplish one thing, however: it raised a rebellion in the North, especially in New York City, where, after four days of riots when black men were lynched on the lampposts of Broadway, the Army of the Potomac fired into the crowds, killing over a thousand civilians. Something had to be done. Obviously, the draft was not working. Better pay for the soldiers, plus bonuses, would cost money. So Lincoln reached into his anti-Constitutional grab bag and pulled out the first income tax. Still, that was not enough. In 1861 the expenses of the federal government were $67 million. After the first year of the war they were $475 million. By 1865, the year the war ended, they were one billion, three-hundred million. The new income tax barely took care of ten percent of this expense. At the end of the war the deficit had reached $2.61 billion.

Traditionally, wars had been paid for by banks creating money by pretending to loan it. That fiscal scam had once been severely limited by the Bank of the United States. Now, the state banks would like to do the same, but they were short of specie, and without hard currency they were helpless. Not Lincoln. In 1862 he merely authorized the Treasury to print $150 million "bills of credit" and put them into circulation as legal tender. These notes, printed with green ink, were good for private debts but could not be used to pay government taxes. In other words, the "Greenbacks" were our now-familiar fiat money backed by nothing but IOU’s from a government asking us to trust it.

The National Banking Act of 1863 sealed the deal by creating a new system of nationally-chartered banks whose sole purpose was the hocus-pocus scheme of turning government bonds into circulating money. G. Edward Griffin writes in The Creature from Jekyll Island that "the bonds were gobbled up just as fast as they could be printed, and the problem of funding the war had been solved." Or had it? For the average man, money backed by just a promise was a joke. How can money be worthless? Gold and silver still existed, didn’t they? Yes, but the value between gold and silver suffered its first great disruption when, after the War, the production of silver from American mines in the West increased enormously. The ratio of silver to gold changed accordingly, until, in 1873, the numbers were 15.92 to 1. By 1893, the year of another National Banking Act, silver had sunk to 18.39 to 1. It became the major issue in the 1896 presidential campaign, with William Jennings Bryan the champion of "free silver" and William McKinley, who favored gold, winning the presidency. Not until March 14, 1900 did the gold standard receive the blessing of Congress. But when American fiscal policies, blighted by panics in 1837, 1873, and 1893, faced another Wall Street tornado in 1907, the time seemed right for the insiders to solve the problem. Which happened on Jekyll Island three years later.

*~*~*~*~*~*

After that meeting in the Jekyll Inn in 1910, it would be another three years before the baby born there would be baptized as the Federal Reserve Act of 1913. Ironically--or perhaps predictably--the IRS, another unconstitutional gimmick, was born the same year. Thus, in one blow, two of Marx’s major thrusts against capitalism were accomplished. Control via the Federal Reserve of the currency to the point of worthlessness. Control via the IRS of the re-distribution of wealth to the point of dictating (via penalties and deductions) the social fabric of the country. Not satisfied with causing the Crash of ‘29, the Federal Reserve, by cutting the money supply of the United States by one-third, prolonged the depression and, by successfully blaming the economic collapse on Hoover, helped FDR into the White House. In 1934 Roosevelt contributed to the Marxian agenda by taking America off the gold standard. Not only did he remove solid backing from the dollar, but made money by doing so. He arbitrarily jacked up the price of gold from $20 to $35 an ounce and made huge profits from the international banks. His next step is worthy of slapstick comedy. As William Still writes in New World Order: "To pull the nation out of the depression, Roosevelt immediately turned to the Federal Reserve to borrow the money needed from the same bankers who engineered it in the first place. A huge variety of social programs soon emerged." And so did socialism.

Ten years later at Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, the world’s most prominent socialists met to establish the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank. The IMF would be the work horse for the World Bank -- a central bank, not for any one country but for the WORLD. (One can imagine Andrew Jackson whirling in his grave!) It would create a common fiat money for all nations and control their rates of inflation, thus dictating a universal economy. Together these institutions would eradicate the gold standard from world finance and extend the Great Bailout by Congress (originally limited to failed U.S. banks) to any country in trouble, through grants, loans, subsidies--or any other bookkeeping trick that could masquerade as America-to-the-Rescue. The ruse has worked beautifully. Most people think (when they do think) that the IMF is part of the United Nations, just as they consider the Federal Reserve as part of the U.S. government. In truth the IMF is independently funded by its almost two hundred member nations, and you can guess who bears the brunt of the defaulted loans. As G.E. Griffin explains in The Creature from Jekyll Island:

"One of the routine operations at the IMF is to exchange

worthless currencies for dollars so the weaker countries can pay

their international bills. This is supposed to cover temporary

"cash-flow" problems. It is a kind of international FDIC which

rushes money to a country that has gone bankrupt so it can avoid

devaluing its currency. The transactions are seldom paid back."

At the outset, because these third-world countries distrusted dollars without gold to back them up, the IMF allowed them to exchange their paper dollars for gold at $35 an ounce--something an American citizen could not do. But there was a problem. Since the IMF was now calling the U.S. dollar its primary currency, redeemable at a fixed gold price, the amount of money created in the world market was limited. The IMF, borrowing an old trick from the Federal Reserve, a master at creating money from nothing, soon corrected that. They invented the "SDR," a Special Drawing Right, based on "credits." These credits were not money. They were promises that the members of the IMF would get the money from their own citizens through taxes, when or if payment should be demanded. Thus a loan became an "asset"--and evolved into a "reserve." The final step came on August 15, 1970, when President Nixon, with an executive order, gave the final coup de grace to the gold standard by declaring that the U.S. would no longer exchange its dollars for gold. So the world could now join us in playing with real play money, and Marx could finally step out, in broad daylight, onto a universal stage. Charlie Chaplin had arrived.

Another item in our cup of alphabet soup--along with IMF, UN, SDR’s and IRS--is CFR, the Council on Foreign Relations. Another "feel-good" name for a group sounding as if it has U.S. government connections. It has government connections, all right--Dwight Eisenhower, Jimmy Carter, John Foster Dulles, Zbigniew Brzezinski, Henry Kissinger, Paul Volcker, David Rockefeller, besides all the CEO’s of all the most important companies and many presidents of the "best" universities. If all this sounds benign and harmless, listen to CFR member Richard Gardner, an adviser to President Carter, when he described this new "house of world order" as "an end run around national sovereignty, eroding it piece by piece...." Add J.P. Morgan, Jr.--a name we have heard before -- with his Rothschild connections, and we have discovered the driving force behind the CFR, which was really a branch of the secret socialistic society started by Cecil Rhodes, the South African diamond baron whose ultimate goal was a One-World Government controlled by a powerful elite. Headquartered in England, the inner sanctum of Rhodes’s group was called The Round Table. The Round Table in the United States, containing so many high government officials that it has been called "the" government of the United States, became the Council on Foreign Relations.

From the beginning, Cecil Rhodes focused his activities on a scholarship program at his alma mater, Oxford, where he learned the basics of socialism from John Ruskin. He wanted his scholars to possess, in his words, "smugness, brutality, unctuous rectitude, and tact." Although Rhodes died in 1902, he could have been describing Bill Clinton. Let’s take Webster’s definitions, one at a time:

Smugness -- exhibiting great or offensive satisfaction with oneself. (When asked about the impeachment, Clinton said he "rather enjoyed it.")

Brutality -- quality of being ruthless and cruel. (During the 1992 campaign, Clinton said of his critics: "I want to put a fist halfway down their throats with this. I don’t want subtlety. I want their teeth on the sidewalks." )

Unctuous -- oily in speech or manner; characterized by a smug, smooth pretense of spiritual feeling or earnestness. (No example needed.)

Rectitude -- moral righteousness. (Smooth pretense of righteousness?)

Tact -- acute sensitivity to what is proper and appropriate in dealing with others. ("I feel your pain.")

This smooth-talking paragon of morality and virtue, in denial of his own criminal shortcomings, assumes a loose pose as he tilts his head, flexes his jaw and grins at his audience, becoming a clown with enough unctuous rectitude to please even Cecil Rhodes. By 1993 the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) received high praise from CFR member Henry Kissinger, who touted it as "the architecture of a new international system...the vital first step for a new kind of community of nations."

By 1994 the dream of a New World Order took another step toward reality with GATT, the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade, signed in Marrakech, Morocco that April. Americans thought it was just another "trade" agreement, but in reality the signing of GATT created the World Trade Organization (WTO), and in retrospect it fit the puzzle perfectly. First, there was the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank at Bretton Woods, New Hampshire in 1944. A year later, in San Francisco, the United Nations. Now, NAFTA, WTO and GATT, which became for CFR member David Rockefeller the ultimate act, after 500 years, for building "a true ‘new world’ in the Western Hemisphere."

That new world would hardly have room for a country hog-tied by the messy principles of a Constitution written by eighteenth-century idealists two hundred years ago. The next job toward Utopia would be an assault on that tiresome document. Liberal interpretations by legislative-prone Supreme Courts have only been powder-puff punches where a knock-out blow is needed. There are only two ways to change this Constitution: (1) a two-thirds vote of both houses of Congress or (2) a resolution passed by two-thirds of the state legislatures. After Nixon’s resignation in August, 1974, the time seemed right to push for a constitutional convention. Thirty-four states were needed. By 1983 the United States of America was only two votes short of what came to be called a "Con-Con." Remember the ultimate goal of this assault was (and still is) the nullification of U.S. sovereignty in favor of a One-World Government. In New World Order William Still writes that two CFR members, Norman Cousins and James Warburg (does that name sound familiar?) formed in 1947 the "United World Federalists" to merge the U.S. with the UN. Twenty-seven states actually passed resolutions demanding a Con-Con to "expedite and insure" U.S. participation in a world government. Luckily, most of these states realized the implications of their action and repealed their resolutions. But the idea of a constitutional convention is not dead. In 1974, the year Nixon resigned, The Emerging Constitution (by R.G. Tugwell, an old FDR liberal) proposed a "Constitution for the Newstates of America" which would replace the fifty states with ten or twenty regional "Newstates" -- not really states, but "departments of the national government." The American president would have nine-year terms and appoint senators for life, while the House would be elected en masse on one ticket. Crazy? In the 1970's the Ford Foundation allocated over $25 million to promote a "Newstates Constitution." Five years later CFR member Henry Steele Commager, under the auspices of "the World Affairs Council," wrote "A Declaration of INTERdependence," which was meant to replace the Declaration of Independence. In that he echoes Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address with: "Two centuries ago our forefathers brought forth a new nation; now we must join with others to bring forth a new world order...all people are part of one global community." He goes on: "We call upon all nations to strengthen and to sustain the United Nations...." This was signed by 100 Senators and Congressmen, including CFR members Senators Alan Cranston, Charles Mathias, and Clairborne Pell, supported by Paul Simon, Patricia Schroeder, and Les Aspin.

But perhaps all this Con-Con effort is wasted. The nullification of the Constitution may already have been adequately prepared for. Since 1933, according to FDR’s "War and Emergency Powers Act"--never repealed-- the United States has legally been under a state of national emergency which gives the President instant powers to suspend the Constitution. One Congressman, in protest, compared this power to Hitler’s, recording his objection in the Congressional Record: "I think of all the damnable heresies that have ever been suggested in connection with the Constitution, the doctrine of emergency is the worst. It means that when Congress declares an emergency, there is no Constitution." Now, since 1992 under Clinton’s Executive Order #12919, FEMA (the Federal Emergency Management Agency created by President Carter) can have, under an emergency, absolute power over all communication systems, transportation (air, rail, water), energy (electric, petroleum, gas, whether public or private), civilian labor (without regard to financial remuneration), health, education, and welfare. As if these are not enough, with a stroke of a presidential pen under EO #11002, the postmaster general can register all residents "for the purpose of population movement and relocation." Citizens of the United States may be surprised to find that since 1961 they are under the Emergency Banking Regulation No. 1, which gives the Secretary of the Treasury--without consent of Congress--the power to seize bank accounts, fix rents and salaries, and impose rationing.

Control by Executive Order has become a habit. In 1996 President Clinton declared the Escalante area of Utah a "Monument," thus removing two million acres from the tax roles, which could have supported local schools. Why? There are only two places on the planet which contain a coal so pure that it does not pollute. Those two places are precisely this location in Utah and another in Indonesia. It seems no coincidence that President Clinton’s good friend Mochtar Riady, a global wheeler-dealer whose financial connections link Hong Kong, Jakarta and Little Rock, owns this second coal mine. With mining in the Monument area forbidden, his competitors have been permanently removed. Like "monument," another "feel good" word-- "heritage"-- has been used for Clinton’s insidious American Heritage Rivers Initiative, which pretends to protect our rivers under the surveillance of a government-appointed "navigator"--as if Mark Twain himself is in charge. In essence, this "initiative" is a land grab establishing Federal control over the shorelines--i.e., the land--along the banks. But we should not be surprised. The exercise is straight out of Marxian economic policy. After all, those shorelines are land. And land is owned, and therefore it is a capitalistic asset, available, through governmental legalistic gimmickry, to be used for the "redistribution of wealth"--this time not to the proletariat, but to a bloated Federal bureaucracy.

Where does it end? And how did we find ourselves under a dictatorship when we thought we lived in a democracy? Perhaps we will have to remember the Serpent in the Garden of Eden. Or Brer Rabbit. If this description reminds you of Someone in the White House, don’t blame me, but Carl Jung, who writes in Man and His Symbols:

"The Trickster...is a figure whose physical appetites dominate his

behavior; he has the mentality of an infant. Lacking any purpose

beyond the gratification of his primary needs, he is cruel, cynical,

and unfeeling...This figure...passes from one mischievous exploit

to another. But, as he does so, a change comes over him. At the

end of his rogue’s progress he is beginning to take on the physical

likeness of a grown man."

Yet underneath he is still the Trickster—an amusing but diabolical clown under a mask of "caring."

Just as we had to go back to the 1930's for our first taste of socialism under FDR, that decade will also give us a clue to our current acquiescence, our numb acceptance of what, just a few years ago, would have been an affront to our national sovereignty.

• Introduction
• Original Sin
• Marxism
• Political Correctness
• The Federal Government
• America’s Tar Baby
• BIBLIOGRAPHY