Chapter One- The Club of Rome
This story begins as many do, with very powerful people meeting privately in very elite settings to decide what to do about us.
Pick your name.
The monarchs called us slaves, subjects and peasants in centuries past.
After we brokered enough freedoms from the bastards to start innovations and businesses of which they were completely incapable of creating themselves (beginning in the early part of the 13th century) we started piling up wealth as they never could.
We invented things. Then we made these things. We then traded these things, and became rich combining limited freedoms with property rights, which is still the simplest formula for making a society prosper anywhere on this planet or any other.
These non-doers quickly realized they needed ‘us’ to bail them out of their own stupidity—quite frequently, in fact—as they were leaches and made nothing themselves, contributing even less than nothing to the world except pain and war.
So some of ‘us’ then moved up a notch.
We were given the ignominious title of bourgeois, but still disdained as a lesser and far lower class than the throat-slitting royals, kept in power by better men—which was also ‘us’.
We financed and fought in their foolish bloody wars, as they had nothing unless they stole it, and little stomach for actual combat themselves.
We’re still pitching in heavily on our own destruction, unfortunately. We should have just let them sink centuries ago.
Next, came the bourgeois ‘intelligentsia’
After the world was afloat with jobs and wealth creation, along came the rich-boy club of Marx & Engels to tell ‘us’ how repressed we were.
Everyone but their own class became either the hated ‘bourgeois’ that supported their foolishness, or The Proletariat, but those wealthy offsprings of the bourgeois like Marx & Engels—who also did nothing, called themselves the ‘intelligentsia’ and then along came Aurelio Peccei.
How nice. The bourgeois who invented things, made things, and gave us jobs were vilified by the elites and their own offsprings (the intelligentsia) but we finally had a name of our own that didn’t sound as demeaning as ‘slave’, ‘subject, or ‘peasant’. The Proletariat.
Pretty cool, right? It means the same thing, basically, but we’re moving up.
But even in 1968 at the rich oak tables of the Villa Farnesina in Rome where the wine was flowing like the dark waters of the Tiber enroute to the Tyrrhenian Sea, it was what to do with ‘us’ —whatever name they give us— that was on their minds that night.
A beautiful April evening in Rome
Aurelio Peccei, the Godfather of the Club of Rome, was an Italian industrialist.
He was from a common family but moved up to bourgeois in post-war Italy by becoming someone who made things work.
He built things, for example—which was beneath the ‘elites’.
But Aurelio Peccei was also desperate for a higher social rank more in line with his inflated ego.
Aurelio actually had visions of becoming an ‘elite’ himself.
Who are the ‘elites’, you ask?
This is a self-appointed class worthy of little merit who usually did even less to earn it.
Elites are like pigeons that hang out in a park. Throw out a little grain and they gather, then strut and preen around cooing as if they created it.
Little they say or do is of consequence—yet they expect others to feed them and clean up their mess.
But what a presumptuous little snip this Aurelio Peccei was.
Perseverance was his hallmark, however, so he became quite dedicated to proving that he had the ruthlessness inbred in the existing group of ‘elites’ to join their ranks.
So how does one ‘impress’ the most ruthless of all people?
The whole Hitler/Mussolini thing was a bit too recent back then for another genocide to prove his merit to the world’s ruling class, so Aurelio wisely chose another want-to-be elite of the new intelligentsia, Alexander King, to assist him from the newly respected arena of ‘science’.
After ‘scientists’ showed the Elites how to murder millions with a single blast, they moved up even ahead of the financiers or bourgeois.
So King, a self-described Scottish ‘scientist’, helped Aurelio hatch a plan so diabolical that their ruling class audience could not help but love it—and them.
It embodied all of the favorite elements of the ruthless class: lies, eugenics, massive transfers of wealth from ‘us’ to ‘them’ and one more little detail we’ll get to in the next chapter.
You see, the bourgeois rank assigned to Aurelio Peccie, had the benefit of being the most hated—but most needed class—in the Western World, especially for the so-called elites.
The ruling class cannot survive without them to finance extravagant lifestyles through grants and generally traitorous causes, like bad trade deals and wars, but they still consider the bourgeoisie little different from those of us plowing and planting the fields of their inherited estates.
But being the bank of last resort—and for many a downtrodden count, duke or earl, the only bank of resort—a certain extraction of social acceptance must be granted to those who fund their indolence.
And so, that evening in Rome was populated by enough run-down aristocracy and potentates to give it the patina of relevance to the rest of the ruling class.
In fact, due to the ruthlessness of both the plan and its ultimate ‘solution’, Aurelio quickly sealed his spot within their ranks.
A more ruthless bastard was quite hard to imagine.
He built the Club of Rome— and the ‘elites’ came.
The International Centre for Justice
Stay tuned for Part 4 of The Carbon Hoax-A Story: Ruling the World with a Big Lie