Conspiracy: Peter Thiel, Hulk Hogan, Gawker, and the Anatomy of Intrigue

by Ryan Holiday

snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. George Washington had done such a thing quite simply and masterfully in New Windsor, New York, at the end of the American Revolution. The war had been won but the peace had been bungled, and angry veterans were without their pensions. They had plotted and schemed and were on the verge of overthrowing Congress. Washington had been preoccupied and let the situation sneak up behind him. Congress had been entitled and unaccountable and also had not taken this threat seriously. A meeting is called of all the officers in the army. The mood is tense. The very existence of civil authority in America hangs in the balance. Washington knows he does not have much time and surprises the men by walking into the meeting. He asks quietly for the floor, and he begins to speak to his men impassionedly, begging them not to be swayed by these wicked plans. Then, simply, he reaches into his pocket to read a letter from Congress. He moves slowly, fumbles on purpose with the letter, and says, “Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in the service of my country.” His display saps the men of their anger—this man, their leader, he has suffered, too. He has been worn down by the same service that they are demanding compensation for and he has not offered a single complaint. As Washington expresses his confidence in Congress and makes his case, the conspiracy collapses with each word. It had been p...