Imagine walking in the woods at twilight. Home seems far away. Long shadows make the path less certain. Small sounds send an alarm to your pulse rate, while primitive emotions knit something nightmares are made of. Your walk becomes a frantic dash to the familiar lights of home, where you arrive shaky and exhausted. Was something stalking you?
Studying history began as a game like “Who’s Got the Button?”, a sort of proxy “Hide and Go Seek.” That was shallow. I should have been looking for trends, movements or ideas.
The second stage was more like “Jackstraws” picking up a single fact without disturbing any of the others. I struggled to make sense of them, without real success.
Major patterns began to emerge. American history isn’t just just good guys (us) and ugly, treacherous bad guys (everyone who had anything we wanted.) The patterns were at once powerful, organized, sinister and dangerous. Something was out there in the dark.
Getting to see what that was, when my only weapon doesn’t shoot but only writes, brings no comfort. There is little consolation in knowing that a predator doesn’t hate you. It is hungry.
My first encounter with unseen forces came from studying Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790),who worked tirelessly in America, England and France, for the welfare of the colonists who would become the United States. In his mind was a patterned goal for us as a nation. He was more than a strangely dressed man playing with a kite in a thunderstorm. Finding electricity in lightning was small compared to the power of his ideas, drawn from a figure much earlier in history, Sir Isaac Newton (1642-1727). It was a mental relay. The baton Franklin took from Newton still lurks under the radar of recorded history.
Newton was a genius, yet he is trivialized, shown under an apple tree with an apple falling on his head, discovering gravity. His visage should accompany Franklin’s, on our paper money. While his ideas are latent, they have the power of a fully charged battery, waiting for opportunity.
Newton picked up the baton from an even earlier figure in history, Sir Francis Bacon (1561-1626), whose ideas of a perfect society appear in a 1624 book he wrote called “The New Atlantis,” based on material still shrouded in mystery and controversy, tracing its origin to the Greek philosopher Plato (428-348 B.C.).
Bacon had the power and the authority to develop his ideas through secret societies, the Freemasons and the Rosicrucians, whose representatives he sent to the New World in the 1600s, with early colonists. Bacon believed Atlantis wasn’t merely an imaginary continent that sank in the distant past, but rather that Atlantis was America, destined to become the ideal nation that he had described. Some of these plans are now coming into focus in the work of contemporary figures. The planned fruition is known as the New World Order.
Danger comes from the coalescence of power in the hands of a few,
and eventually only one person of incredible wealth and power. Two truths diminish the value of such an Order .
First, this movement is real, alive and active, but hidden for unknown reasons. The second is the New World Order is based on one of the least admirable traits of human nature: an insatiable lust for power. The world has never benefited from this lust, as witnessed in the governments of powerful men willing to kill their own subjects, starve them, or both.
Why are such societies secret? What don’t its members want the world to know? We are ignorant both of what they have done and what they want to do. A free society may have little chance of survival. In 1887, Lord Acton said, “Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”
Wherever I look next, I should proceed with caution. And if my browsing attracts attention, I hope the interest isn’t hunger.