Mass resignations at State Dept., funding cut to UN; it’s a start

Mass resignations at State Dept., funding cut to UN; it’s a start

By Jon Rappoport

When people become enmeshed in large complex structures, they believe those systems are absolutely essential; survival itself is at stake.

They are frequently wrong.

For example, the US State Department and the United Nations could vanish tomorrow, and after a few years no one would notice the difference.

Except of course, the hand-wringing Globalist media, who would howl and shriek and predict doom for all humankind.

The Trump administration is talking about making significant cuts to UN funding. And about 15 in-house “experts” who manage the State Dept. bureaucracy have resigned en masse.

It’s too bad. I mean it’s too bad the Trump administration isn’t going to cut all funding to the UN, and it’s too bad the entire State Department hasn’t quit. Then we’d be getting somewhere.

Instead of the UN, we could have one small apartment building in New York where countries might send representatives to live. These people, of course, would pay their own rent. They would chat, play cards, sit in community rooms, and have drinks. They could pass a few scribbled notes back and forth. No sumptuous assembly hall, no voluminous charter, no bad art celebrating “the unity of all peoples.” Instead, ping pong tournaments and air hockey.

If the US government had listened to George Washington, when he urged avoiding entangling foreign alliances, the US would have followed a far different course of development at home; and permanent relations with other governments would have been laughed out of court.

Who knows? With a clearer focus on domestic issues, the US might have remained a Republic, instead of devolving into a democracy, a venal form of corporatism, an Empire, and a universal Welfare State.

Permanent foreign diplomacy, with all its bizarre accoutrements, would never have entered the scene.

A proper global charter would read, “Don’t bother us and we won’t bother you.” End of story.

If the people of various nations didn’t like their governments, they could rebel, revolt. Same here.

The “unity of everyone” is a straight con. The idea would never have gained traction, unless international entanglements, with all their attendant crimes, had come first. As in: “Hey, I’ve got a great idea. Let’s get a few of the boys together, incite a war, fund both sides, make a huge profit, and then, in the aftermath of the smoking ruins, preach togetherness like it came down from heaven, and cobble together new alliances. Then we can start the whole process over again.”

It’s called treason. A capital offense.

By the way, the land where the UN Headquarters in New York sits was originally donated by John D Rockefeller, which should give you some clue about the organization’s agenda. One planet, indivisible, with an absurd pretension of liberty and justice for all. Or to put it another way, endless entangling alliances.

“Let’s wrap everyone on Earth in coils and knots and tendrils up to their eyeballs and call it Love.”

For those who can’t imagine good reasons for dismantling all sorts of titanic bureaucracies, for those who believe these behemoths are indispensable, try a small-scale analogy: one day you wake up and find a dozen strangers occupying spaces in your house. They all claim to be experts, and they all have solutions to problems concerning the home—problems you never knew existed. Their solutions require a council and endless discussions and reports—and this is for “the greater good.” Your relationship with these strangers seems to be imperative, because, well, they are there.

Your ownership of the house is obviously now in question. You’re not in charge. You can participate in the decision-making, but as the days pass, you realize you’re being edged out. You’re not an expert in “home management.” Therefore, your opinions are put on the back-burner.

And everything goes downhill from there.

But don’t worry. The overarching goal of the strangers is “unity,” and unity must be a good thing. It sounds like a good thing.

—Except for the fact that you never needed it until they showed up.

Finally, one day, you wake up with a brilliant idea:

“I’ll kick them out.”