Out Of The Woods

Part One: Early Recollections

As 2022 comes to a close and this new substack takes shape, I’ve compiled some autobiographical anecdotes in a three part series. These background tales convey previous experiences that continue to influence my current analysis and writing about the challenges we face today.

Not Necessarily The Beginning

The first reports declaring that a new virus might infect the entire planet sounded like routine, exaggerated, news infotainment. We had seen numerous overreactions to pathogens in recent years. And no matter how dangerous the latest viral outbreak, I assumed any infectious disease was dwarfed by a variety of other imminent threats to humanity.

The crisis seemed (and was) over-dramatized by the media, and I resisted becoming alarmed or raising my voice.

I was very familiar with the deceptions and transgressions of Washington. For decades, very few news outlets or websites have been willing to go up against a consortium that had a lock on the medical and media industries — and kept a majority of politicians in their pockets.

Before any signs of this pandemic, I had observed deteriorating aspects of the social order. I’d attempted to keep influencing things for the better, even as my journalism career entered its twilight. Since the turn of the century, I’d written an occasional opinion piece motivated by news or stories that inflamed my sensibilities. The topics were mostly taboo; this was repeatedly confirmed by editors responding to my submissions with, “Very interesting, though not for us.”

Relentless rejections can be discouraging, though an overtly judgmental style didn’t help my chances. I can’t help adhering to a fading tradition at the heart of investigative journalism; revealing what is damning and true.

Weary of the interminable battle, I had initially downplayed my wife’s prescient predictions that impending lockdowns and mandates were part of a bold campaign, normalizing fear and suppressing dissent. Belatedly, by the spring of 2021, I could no longer dismiss the growing impact and potential repercussions of what was billed as a global pandemic. Feeling compelled to contribute something to counter the storm, I began to write again.

The urge was reminiscent of what had inspired me to enter the world of journalism decades ago.

Liberation On Horseback

I was living a simple and joyful family life far beyond the madness, when inhumane behavior and corrupt politics literally called me out of the woods.

An awakening changed the course of my life. I was asked by my daughter’s Spanish teacher, if I would take a priest she was hosting from El Salvador, on a horseback ride. She told me Father Jose Alas, known as Chencho, was on a fundraising mission for an orphanage that cared for children whose parents had been murdered in the civil war.

As we traversed a ridge overlooking the Pacific on a clear morning, Chencho told me about his life and the ongoing conflict in Central America. He described the abject poverty of millions of people living desperate lives, and how most regions were controlled by tyrants and military governments with a grip on all resources. Workers were given a meager living with no basic human rights or the ability to own land.

I was aware of the growing political darkness, and certainly didn’t believe the U.S. government and most news reports claiming that there were communist uprisings that required intervention. For decades they had justified supporting repressive governments in Latin America, when it was primarily a cover for corporate interests.

The climate in El Salvador had gone from bad to worse. There were entire villages murdered in the name of suppressing revolutionaries; they were actually doing the bidding of dictatorial forces threatened by a wave of spiritual awakening.

The violence began when Central American priests embraced Liberation Theology. This understanding of what had recently been reiterated as the central mission of Jesus — to free the poor from oppression — became their guiding principle. A movement to end degradation and poverty was inspired by a religious doctrine. Many priests had been kidnapped and tortured, including Chencho. His friend and ally, Archbishop Romero of San Salvador, a critic of the government, was assassinated on the orders of a death squad leader.

I wasn’t naive about the horrors humans inflict on each other. And although I had studied, recognized, and respected a continuum of ethical spiritual values, I was shocked to learn that a theological doctrine I’d never heard of — fully explained the violence that was unfolding in Central America. U.S. news media certainly never discussed Liberation Theology or its impact.

I realized that I had been subjected to a propaganda campaign of omission. Chencho assured me I wasn’t alone and that most people outside of the region had no idea of the extent of the suffering — or its cause.

My initial response was to ask if I could volunteer at the orphanage. He said if I wanted to do something to make a change, it was more important to help people learn the truth about what my own country was supporting. Americans had no idea about the atrocities that were committed in their name.

Chencho’s words were both liberating and troubling, feelings I could not ignore. The seemingly unalterable hypocrisy of the world that had caused me to retreat, offended me deeply that day. I began to seek out others who were working to expose the immoral criminality and shed some light, in an attempt to alter the disastrous course of events.

An Election Held Hostage 

I wanted to apply myself in an efficient and effective way. Although I had a relatively radical point of view, I wanted to influence the mainstream narrative with provocative content. This was not a simple process; I began an intriguing and gripping exploration.

I volunteered my time, which allowed me to network and rapidly find a place among those probing for the truth. I began by working as a reporter on a number of high-profile documentaries.

My focus was the so-called Iran-Contra Affair, and the uncovering of the illegal activity of a secret team inside the government operating without oversight. I was one of a group of investigators offended by the bravado of powerful players selling weapons secretly to Iran, a purported enemy, in order to fund the clandestine war in Central America.

As with most scandals made public, the unasked questions held deeper secrets. I dove into the depths of Washington politics and its murky relationship with the intelligence community; working alongside an eclectic group who were on a similar path. Some were veteran journalists, others were former military or CIA officers; all were attempting to find the truth and reveal it to the public.

The revelations unfolded almost daily and compelled further inquiry. The simple fact that a U.S. president had secretly sent a birthday cake to Iran’s Ayatollah Khomeini symbolized the depth of the deception. This was the very same tyrant who encouraged and allowed the take-over of the American Embassy in Teheran — and blessed an unprecedented hostage crisis. It was outrageous that the supreme leader of the greatest enemy of the United States was a secret ally.

I had developed some unique sources and reported for PBS Frontline on a documentary called The Election Held Hostage. It was about the allegation that the plight of the Embassy staff, imprisoned in Iran for over a year, was entangled with U.S. presidential politics. I also supported the efforts of the former hostages who succeeded in initiating a Congressional investigation into the allegations about their extended captivity.

Having been immersed in the probe with a head start on details and contacts, I expected to be asked to contribute at some level to the inquiry. The lead counsel didn’t want me involved, claiming preexisting knowledge would bias the investigation.

This absurd excuse was a precursor to the charade that followed. At each step, where mounting evidence supported the hypothesis that a presidential election had been stolen, the burden of proof was simply increased. The final report was a whitewash, engineered by both political parties.

No one wanted to support a revelation that confirmed how Washington politics ignored the high ideals of American democracy. The process displayed the dishonesty of those in power and the degree of inappropriate compromise that goes on, in and around the halls of Congress.

Unwilling to accept defeat, I developed a docu-drama about the October Surprise for HBO. With a completed script and just before going into production, it was suddenly canceled. Yet there wasn’t a nefarious plot to suppress it.

As a friend and veteran producer in Hollywood said, “An executive had a tummy ache on the way to work, and decided to cancel a film that would have changed history.”

In any form, the October Surprise story was doomed to enter the realm of unsolved conspiracy theories.

The overall outcome of this investigation and its revelations confirmed that facts don’t matter when there isn’t a will to know the truth; a reminder that The Emperor’s New Clothes is a fable that is endlessly revived.

I realized that it wasn’t necessarily secret teams or clandestine board meetings where grandiose, illicit, and criminal plans are contrived. If we care to look, the largest conspiracies happen right before our eyes.

Next, Part Two: The Mother Of All Conspiracies

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