Nate Briggs's Blog - Posts Tagged "conspiracy"
Sunday Literary Life: March 26
Sunday Literary LIfe - March 26
Pressed to name the date when representative government in America began to run off the rails I think you can make a splendid case for November 22, 1963 – a date that those old enough to recall it all acknowledge: most of us with very personal memories of the day. Where we were. What we were doing. How we heard.
I was happy to get an early weekend as a very somber Mr Trout, struggling with his emotions, sent our class home. Then I was plunged into unhappiness: my mother more or less falling apart. Had she been aware of one-tenth of JFK’s misbehavior in the White House she probably would have killed him herself. But all that startling knowledge lay in the future. In ’63, Mom admired JFK without reservation (despite his strange religion) and his sudden death made America seem foreign to her.
Shot and killed in broad daylight? That was the kind of thing that happened in other places. People with darker skins. People who didn’t speak English.
An awful day. An awful weekend. And being off school on Monday didn't compensate.
Then, over time, the official story came out (26 volumes), and the long grind of Doubt began. After more than 50 years, I am confident that every possible alternative theory has been explored – and yet the sterling credibility of the Warren Commission conclusions still endures in the mind of most people.
Because falling out with the Warren Commission requires a couple of adjustments in thinking which make most of us uncomfortable.
1) That “regime change” occurred within the United States – one president out, a new president in – in the same way that we had cynically arranged changes of administration in other places (“darker skins”, “don’t speak English”). That someone in secret had concluded that Kennedy was not “sound” – and that, for the benefit of themselves and others like them, they needed Lyndon Johnson instead.
2) That someone in government can keep a secret…forever. Half a century has passed. No one has come forward. No one has said a word. “Government by leak” has become so routine that this is inconceivable: particularly since the first Kennedy assassin to make a book deal would become wealthy overnight.
Uncomfortable thoughts. But not impossible if you can feel comfortable with the conclusion that a lot of people wanted JFK dead – a lot more people didn’t mind that he was dead – and the kind of people who might reveal a conspiracy were too frightened to say anything.
The graphic shows three items: the fundamental argument in all of them that the Warren Commission simply manipulated evidence to support a foregone conclusion: lone gunman, secondhand rifle, sixth floor, three shots from behind, and a remarkably relaxed assassin (Oswald didn’t even bother to leave the Book Depository immediately after the president was shot – he went to the breakroom for a soda).
And as far as the explanation for this unspeakable deed? Nothing convincing has ever been offered.
And every question about the Commission report brings us to a strange circularity: we know what we know because we know it - because it could not have happened any other way. Because "we say so".
The meat in my JFK graphical sandwich is Oliver Stone’s 1991 film “JFK”. A bloated and unhappy project for most of its length. But in its last third – Jim Garrison’s summation to the jury in the trial of Clay Shaw (later revealed to be an operative of the CIA) – the movie begins to soar as Garrison starts with the known evidence and moves FORWARD: using ballistics, witness reports, the all-important Zapruder film, and common sense about how an assassination team would operate to compose a thoroughly believable alternate story.
But uncomfortable: since it requires us to fact the prospect of taxpayer-supported “regime change”. A coup d’etat, in our own country, cleverly conceived, ruthlessly executed, and thoroughly covered up.
One president out. A more hawkish president in.
And the level of discomfort increases: because it means coping with the idea that not quite three years after Eisenhower delivered his memorable address about the growing power of the “military-industrial complex” that same complex got rid of a chief executive they didn’t like. They killed him. And they got away with it.
And, if that's true, representative government – government “by the people” – began to disappear in Dallas in ’63, and I think a significant number of Americans might argue that it's been slowly disappearing ever since.
Pressed to name the date when representative government in America began to run off the rails I think you can make a splendid case for November 22, 1963 – a date that those old enough to recall it all acknowledge: most of us with very personal memories of the day. Where we were. What we were doing. How we heard.
I was happy to get an early weekend as a very somber Mr Trout, struggling with his emotions, sent our class home. Then I was plunged into unhappiness: my mother more or less falling apart. Had she been aware of one-tenth of JFK’s misbehavior in the White House she probably would have killed him herself. But all that startling knowledge lay in the future. In ’63, Mom admired JFK without reservation (despite his strange religion) and his sudden death made America seem foreign to her.
Shot and killed in broad daylight? That was the kind of thing that happened in other places. People with darker skins. People who didn’t speak English.
An awful day. An awful weekend. And being off school on Monday didn't compensate.
Then, over time, the official story came out (26 volumes), and the long grind of Doubt began. After more than 50 years, I am confident that every possible alternative theory has been explored – and yet the sterling credibility of the Warren Commission conclusions still endures in the mind of most people.
Because falling out with the Warren Commission requires a couple of adjustments in thinking which make most of us uncomfortable.
1) That “regime change” occurred within the United States – one president out, a new president in – in the same way that we had cynically arranged changes of administration in other places (“darker skins”, “don’t speak English”). That someone in secret had concluded that Kennedy was not “sound” – and that, for the benefit of themselves and others like them, they needed Lyndon Johnson instead.
2) That someone in government can keep a secret…forever. Half a century has passed. No one has come forward. No one has said a word. “Government by leak” has become so routine that this is inconceivable: particularly since the first Kennedy assassin to make a book deal would become wealthy overnight.
Uncomfortable thoughts. But not impossible if you can feel comfortable with the conclusion that a lot of people wanted JFK dead – a lot more people didn’t mind that he was dead – and the kind of people who might reveal a conspiracy were too frightened to say anything.
The graphic shows three items: the fundamental argument in all of them that the Warren Commission simply manipulated evidence to support a foregone conclusion: lone gunman, secondhand rifle, sixth floor, three shots from behind, and a remarkably relaxed assassin (Oswald didn’t even bother to leave the Book Depository immediately after the president was shot – he went to the breakroom for a soda).
And as far as the explanation for this unspeakable deed? Nothing convincing has ever been offered.
And every question about the Commission report brings us to a strange circularity: we know what we know because we know it - because it could not have happened any other way. Because "we say so".
The meat in my JFK graphical sandwich is Oliver Stone’s 1991 film “JFK”. A bloated and unhappy project for most of its length. But in its last third – Jim Garrison’s summation to the jury in the trial of Clay Shaw (later revealed to be an operative of the CIA) – the movie begins to soar as Garrison starts with the known evidence and moves FORWARD: using ballistics, witness reports, the all-important Zapruder film, and common sense about how an assassination team would operate to compose a thoroughly believable alternate story.
But uncomfortable: since it requires us to fact the prospect of taxpayer-supported “regime change”. A coup d’etat, in our own country, cleverly conceived, ruthlessly executed, and thoroughly covered up.
One president out. A more hawkish president in.
And the level of discomfort increases: because it means coping with the idea that not quite three years after Eisenhower delivered his memorable address about the growing power of the “military-industrial complex” that same complex got rid of a chief executive they didn’t like. They killed him. And they got away with it.
And, if that's true, representative government – government “by the people” – began to disappear in Dallas in ’63, and I think a significant number of Americans might argue that it's been slowly disappearing ever since.
The Department of Conspiracy Department
A painful (but not terminal) conflict presents itself when we consider so-called “cozy” mysteries -- a fiction genre that’s inexorably spreading like an invasive plant species on the shelves of bookstores just about everywhere - moving murder out of the Urban and into the mostly pleasant Rural.
A typical plot goes like this: old Mrs Butterbottom – bravely widowed these ten years – finds a severed head when she’s digging up her radishes and the usual cast of characters (dithering vicar, village idiot, Chief Inspector worried about his weight, a few people suspiciously young, and many people unsuspiciously old) march through the ensuing pages as everyone suspects and speculates and pours tea.
Agatha Christie mastered the form as well as anyone. But the great advantage offered to Rookie Authors is that this is basically a “kit” for building a novel: off-the-shelf venue, off-the-shelf characters, off-the-shelf plot, off-the-shelf scenes, etc.
Just screw it all together using the bolts and the allen wrench provided in the package, and now you have a book.
Wasn't that easy?
What's missing is what we actually know about villages (this is the paradox mentioned above).
The number of distractions in small communities has increased – massively multi-player games, satellite TV, downloadable music. But small town and villages still remain unfriendly venues for conspiracy and unsolved crime.
Whodunit?
That’s just the point. Everybody knows “whodunit”. Everyone knows how they "dunit". And everyone knows “why”.
People living close together know things – and people who’ve lived close together all their lives tend to know a lot of things.
People who have nothing better to do than see things do see them – and they have no reason to keep them quiet. Gossip tends to bind isolated people together, and – in places like the American Bible Belt, with a strong Calvinist flavor – chatter about “who’s doing what” reinforces community standards: which tend to frown on killing a long-time enemy and burying the head in someone’s vegetables.
All the more reason to admire the members of The Last Wives Club: who execute their perfect crimes in full view of everyone – but with the skill of mature women who have aired dirty laundry about others most of their adult lives.
They know, as well as anyone, how stories get around town.
Conversely, they all know how to keep a secret.
A typical plot goes like this: old Mrs Butterbottom – bravely widowed these ten years – finds a severed head when she’s digging up her radishes and the usual cast of characters (dithering vicar, village idiot, Chief Inspector worried about his weight, a few people suspiciously young, and many people unsuspiciously old) march through the ensuing pages as everyone suspects and speculates and pours tea.
Agatha Christie mastered the form as well as anyone. But the great advantage offered to Rookie Authors is that this is basically a “kit” for building a novel: off-the-shelf venue, off-the-shelf characters, off-the-shelf plot, off-the-shelf scenes, etc.
Just screw it all together using the bolts and the allen wrench provided in the package, and now you have a book.
Wasn't that easy?
What's missing is what we actually know about villages (this is the paradox mentioned above).
The number of distractions in small communities has increased – massively multi-player games, satellite TV, downloadable music. But small town and villages still remain unfriendly venues for conspiracy and unsolved crime.
Whodunit?
That’s just the point. Everybody knows “whodunit”. Everyone knows how they "dunit". And everyone knows “why”.
People living close together know things – and people who’ve lived close together all their lives tend to know a lot of things.
People who have nothing better to do than see things do see them – and they have no reason to keep them quiet. Gossip tends to bind isolated people together, and – in places like the American Bible Belt, with a strong Calvinist flavor – chatter about “who’s doing what” reinforces community standards: which tend to frown on killing a long-time enemy and burying the head in someone’s vegetables.
All the more reason to admire the members of The Last Wives Club: who execute their perfect crimes in full view of everyone – but with the skill of mature women who have aired dirty laundry about others most of their adult lives.
They know, as well as anyone, how stories get around town.
Conversely, they all know how to keep a secret.
