By Michael Hasty
Online Journal Contributing Writer
January 10, 2004—Just before his death, James Jesus Angleton,
the legendary chief of counterintelligence at the Central Intelligence
Agency, was a bitter man. He felt betrayed by the people he had
worked for all his life. In the end, he had come to realize that they
were never really interested in American ideals of "freedom" and
"democracy." They really only wanted "absolute power."
Angleton told author Joseph Trento that the reason he had gotten
the counterintelligence job in the first place was by agreeing not to
submit "sixty of Allen Dulles' closest friends" to a polygraph test
concerning their business deals with the Nazis. In his end-of-life
despair, Angleton assumed that he would see all his old
companions again "in hell."
The transformation of James Jesus Angleton from an enthusiastic,
Ivy League cold warrior, to a bitter old man, is an extreme example
of a phenomenon I call a "paranoid shift." I recognize the
phenomenon, because something similar happened to me.
Although I don't remember ever meeting James Jesus Angleton, I
worked at the CIA myself as a low-level clerk as a teenager in the
'60s. This was at the same time I was beginning to question the
government's actions in Vietnam. In fact, my personal "paranoid
shift" probably began with the disillusionment I felt when I realized
that the story of American foreign policy was, at the very least,
more complicated and darker than I had hitherto been led to believe.
But for most of the next 30 years, even though I was a radical, I
nevertheless held faith in the basic integrity of a system where
power ultimately resided in the people, and whereby if enough
people got together and voted, real and fundamental change could
happen.
What constitutes my personal paranoid shift is that I no longer
believe this to be necessarily true.
In his book, "Rogue State: A Guide to the World's Only
Superpower," William Blum warns of how the media will make
anything that smacks of "conspiracy theory" an immediate "object
of ridicule." This prevents the media from ever having to investigate
the many strange interconnections among the ruling class—for
example, the relationship between the boards of directors of media
giants, and the energy, banking and defense industries. These
unmentionable topics are usually treated with what Blum calls "the
media's most effective tool—silence." But in case somebody's
asking questions, all you have to do is say, "conspiracy theory,"
and any allegation instantly becomes too frivolous to merit serious
attention.
On the other hand, since my paranoid shift, whenever I hear the
words "conspiracy theory" (which seems more often, lately) it
usually means someone is getting too close to the truth.
more herePermission to reprint in entirety given by author, but it's pretty long...enough provided here to lure the reader to the link, i hope. Get a cup of coffee and have a look. good stuff
dp