In July 1933 retired U.S. Marine Corps Maj. Gen. Smedley Butler received a visit from two prominent AMERICAN LEGION officials, William Doyle and Gerald MacGuire, requesting that Butler campaign for election as the legion’s next national commander.
The thoughtful legionnaires assured Butler that cash had been collected to finance his campaign, yet Butler demurred when the pair produced a speech for him to deliver at the legion convention in Chicago, including demands for a U.S. return to the gold standard.
A year later, MacGuire approached Butler again, this time hailing the role military veterans had played in bringing FASCISM to GERMANY and ITALY.
MacGuire asked Butler to lead a veteran’s march on Washington, where they would stage a coup d’état against President Franklin Roosevelt and save the United States from a “communist menace.”
Although convinced that “the whole affair smacked of treason,” Butler requested further details. MacGuire spelled out a plan to seize the government by force and install a suitable strong- man in the White House. The plotters had $3 million in hand, with more on tap whenever they needed it, MacGuire said. “Is there anything stirring yet?” Butler asked. “Yes, you watch,” MacGuire replied. “In two or three weeks, you will see it come out in the papers.”
Two weeks later, in August 1934, the American Liberty League was publicly launched by a coalition of right-wing financiers and politicians known for strident opposition to Roosevelt’s NEW DEAL.
Included were directors and officers of U.S. Steel, General Motors, STANDARD OIL, J.C. Penney, Montgomery Ward, Goodyear Tire, Mutual Life Insurance, and the members of the wealthy DUPONT family. After MacGuire approached him a third time, Butler told his story to FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION Director J. EDGAR HOOVER, followed by an appearance before the HOUSE COMMITTEE ON UN-AMERICAN ACTIVITIES.
No leaders of the league were called to testify, but exposure of the group’s plans in media reports caused prominent backers to distance themselves from the group. A half-baked scheme to run Georgia governor (and KU KLUX KLAN ally) Eugene Talmadge for president died on the drawing board, and the league dissolved in 1936.
The Animal Rights Militia (ARM), an ally of the ANIMAL LIBERATION FRONT (ALF), was organized in England during the early 1980s and subsequently expanded to North America. While emulating the ALF’s tactics of liberating captive animals and causing economic damage to its targets, ARM spokespeople maintain that the ALF “does not go far enough with regards to direct action. More effective victories can be achieved with poisoning hoaxes, and other such strategies.”
Acknowledged ARM actions include:
1984—A poison hoax in England targeting the Mars candy company, which “performed horrific tooth-decay experiments on animals with no signs of stopping.” ARM threats of poisoned candy forced mass recalls of various Mars products, inflicting “huge financial losses” on the company and prompting abandonment of the offensive experiments.
September 1, 1987—ARM claimed credit for California arson fires that destroyed a paper products warehouse and caused $100,000 damage to San Jose Veal Inc.
November 26, 1987—The same California arsonists caused $230,000 damage to the Ferrara Meat Company, destroying a barn filled with hay and grain.
January 2, 1992—ARM activists initiated a poison scare against Cold Buster candy bars in Canada. The bar’s inventor, Larry Wang, was named by ARM spokespeople as a participant in cruel animal experiments at the University of Alberta. Development of the candy allegedly included 16 years of animal research.
The ARM poison scare forced a recall of candy valued in excess of $1 million.
April 23, 1992—ARM commandos equipped with red paint celebrated the International Day for Laboratory Animals by vandalizing the home of Hans Fibiger, an animal researcher at the University of British Columbia.
August 10, 1994—ARM raiders in the United Kingdom coordinated detonation of incendiary devices at the Edinburgh Woolen Mill, Nurse’s fur store, C.H. Brown’s saddlery and leather shop, Westworld Leather Goods, and Madison’s leather shop.
August 24, 1994—ARM incendiary bombings around England caused $4 million damage at two leather shops, a fishing tackle shop, the Cancer Research Fund Shop, and an outlet of the Boots the Chemist chain (targeted as supporters of animal testing).
September 16, 1994—Further British incendiary attacks caused an estimated $4 million damage at the Linsley Brothers sport shop, the Imperial Cancer Research Foundation store, and two more Boots the Chemist outlets. Boots subsequently sold off its pharmaceutical division to avoid further incidents.
December 23, 1994—Another ARM poison hoax rocked Vancouver, British Columbia. Activists falsely claimed to have injected frozen turkeys with rat poison, placing the contaminated poultry in various Safeway and Save-on-Food markets throughout the city. Turkeys valued at $1 million were recalled, while Turkey Producers Co-op reportedly suffered major revenue losses.
January 15, 1998—ARM activists in Uppsala, Sweden, raided laboratories owned by Bio Jet Service, liberating 92 guinea pigs slated for experimentation at UppsalaUniversity.
The breeder, Gothe Olofsson, announced that he was giving up the trade in laboratory animals.
This loose-knit coalition of religious zealots, devoted to eliminating legalized abortion in the United States, made its first appearance in August 1982 when self-styled members kidnapped Dr. Hector Zevallos and his wife from their home in Illinois.
Dr. Zevallos, the operator of a women’s clinic in Granite City, was held captive for six days until he promised to stop performing abortions. (Ringleader Don Anderson received a 30-year prison sentence for that crime; he subsequently earned another 30 year stretch for torching two Florida clinics.)
Since that incident, the Army of God (AOG) has claimed credit for various acts of TERRORISM across the United States, generally bombings, arson, and other acts of vandalism against women’s clinics. Convicted clinic bomber Michael Bray describes himself as “chaplain” of the group while simultaneously denying any culpable knowledge of its ongoing criminal activities.
Some critics argue that the AOG does not exist, per se, but that its name is simply invoked by perpetrators of various violent crimes in a bid to make the scattered “pro-life” movement seem well organized. In 1997–98 letters signed by the AOG claimed credit for fatal bombings in Atlanta and Birmingham, subsequently linked to neo-Nazi fugitive Eric Rudolph. Following an Atlanta gay-bar bombing linked to Rudolph in February 1997, a letter signed by the AOG announced:
“We declare and will wage total war on the ungodly communist regime in New York and your legislative-bureaucratic lackey’s [sic] in Washington. It is you who are responsible and preside over the murder of children and issue the policy of ungodly perversion [sic] that[’]s destroying our people. . . . Death to the NEW WORLD ORDER.”
Despite this and similar pronouncements through the years, spokesmen for the FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION (FBI) in Washington have declared that its “Terrorist Section does not consider the ‘Army of God’ as a terrorist group, and therefore no FBI investigation appears warranted at this time.” In 2001 the group was blamed for sending dozens of hoax ANTHRAX mailings to clinics across the United States.
Arguably the largest and most violent of U.S. PRISON GANGS, the Aryan Brotherhood (AB) was organized at California’s San Quentin Prison in 1967. It evolved from a series of white-supremacist jailhouse cliques in the 1950s and early 1960s, including groups called the Bluebirds, the Nazi Gang, and the Diamond Tooth Gang. It was initially established to protect white inmates from violence by nonwhite gangs, primarily the MEXICAN MAFIA.
Today, the AB has members in prisons throughout the United States, while those on the outside (however briefly on parole) engage in a variety of criminal activities that include wholesale theft, the manufacture and sale of illegal drugs, and contract murder.
As suggested by its name, the AB is a far-right, racist, and anti-Semitic group that nurtures intense hatred of Jews and nonwhite minorities. In addition to the “AB” logo, its heavily tattooed members traditionally sport swastikas, the lightning-bolt symbol of the Nazi SS, shamrocks, the Satanic numerals 666, and various expressions of “White Pride.”
In prisons where gangs are theoretically banned, AB members meet and plot their crimes under the guise of holding Odinist religious ceremonies (an ancient Scandinavian belief system adopted since the 1990s by many neo-Nazis who reject “Jewish” Christianity).
This marks a change from 1980s when most AB members publicly espoused the CHRISTIAN IDENTITY creed (maintaining that Anglo-Saxons are God’s chosen people, while Jews are literally children of Satan).
Violence is habitual with AB members. In August 1993 AB member Roy Slider was convicted of assaulting a black prison guard, Thomas Davis, in Ohio. A year later, in October 1994, AB disciple Donald Riley drew a life prison term in Houston, Texas, for the murder of a black Marine Corps veteran. Between 1996 and 1998 an AB “reign of terror” at California’s Pelican Bay State Prison included six murders. In April 1997 AB member John Stojetz was convicted of murdering a black teenage inmate at an Ohio state prison.
In 1998 when black victim James Byrd, Jr., was dragged to death behind a pickup truck near Jasper, Texas, two of those arrested for the crime were self-declared AB members who were festooned with racist tattoos.
During commission of the crime, one of the killers gleefully declared, “We’re starting The TURNER DIARIES early.”
Who are the most dangerous members of the various secret societies skulking the earth, people with power to change our lives and direct the course of history? According to sources claiming inner knowledge of the group’s true purpose, they are Freemasons.
Masonic conspirators choose international leaders, launch wars, control currencies and infiltrate society, among other applications of their hidden powers, or so the tales propose.
When anyone questions this premise, conspiracy theorists trot out an impressive array of proof, beginning with a recital of influential men through history who were undeniably associated with Masonry, including many signers of the U.S. Declaration of Independence. Who holds higher positions in the American pantheon of heroes and great thinkers than Benjamin Franklin, George Washington and Andrew Jackson? All were Freemasons. In fact, at least twenty-five U.S
Presidents and vice-presidents have been active and enthusiastic supporters of Masonry. Two of them—Harry Truman and Gerald Ford—could boast 33rd Degree status, the highest level of recognition within the organization.
Masons dominated Western politics and cultures for years. Among their members were U.S. presidents George Washington and Harry S. Truman, British prime minister Winston Churchill, and the elegant Duke Ellington.
It is a remarkable achievement, this elevation of a private club with secret rituals into an incubator of leaders, visionaries and intellectuals. On the face of it, the Masons appear to inspire men of exceptional talent far beyond that of any other organization ranging from the Boy Scouts to Rhodes scholars. What is it about their values and systems that breeds such overachievers?
To a few fanatic historians—almost all of them Masons—at the root of their achievements is a historic and inspirational link with the Knights Templar, who began as Defenders of the Christian Faith, became the bankers of medieval Europe, and succumbed to the machinations of a greedy king and a complicit us pope.
Once acclaimed and admired for chivalrous deeds and good works on behalf of Christianity, the Knights Templar safeguarded pilgrims on their way to the Holy Land and battled Islamic armies for control of Jerusalem. Genuine knights in an era when that title brought respect and admiration, they obeyed rules of chivalry and asceticism, dedicating their lives to the glory of God and the protection of Christian pilgrims.
That was the admirable side of the society.
The darker side hid rumors of associations between Templars and the Assassins, the replacement of Templar moral values with outright greed, a decline in commendable character traits and the pursuit of various obscene and blasphemous practices. These attributes are not a model for any high-profile organization seeking respect, let alone one that prides itself on providing world leaders and community benefits.
But dark complexity and suspicion provided the necessary intrigue and color for a later group whose original objective was to protect the secrets of tradesmen. Along the way, the Templars’ spiritual leader managed to be compared to, and perhaps even mistaken for, Christ himself.
The Templars were a product of the Crusades. And the Crusades, contrary to popular belief, were the result not of chivalrous intent or even a dedication to the Christian faith, but of feudalist obligation.
Historians, as is their manner, vacillate as much about the definition of feudalism as they do about its structure, and a few now reject the notion of a “feudalistic age.” Whatever title is hung upon it, Europeans living during the period between
AD 800 and 1300 experienced a way of life that bridged inchoate barbarianism and the roots of democracy. During this time, kings may have claimed wide authority over lands we now know as France, Germany, Britain, but the countryside was effectively ruled not by monarchs but by individual lords and barons. Dominating the lands encompassed by their estates, the lords dispensed justice, levied taxes and tolls, minted their own currency, and demanded military service from citizens occupying their lands.
Most lords, in fact, could field larger armies than could the king, who was often a figurehead ruler.
The social structure was many layered and clearly defined. Serfs represented the lowest level, performing basic labor and having no claim to any wealth they created. Vassals worked the land on behalf of the lord; knights, whose primary qualities included sufficient funds to own both a horse and armor, performed services on behalf of the lords; and the clergy administered spiritual assistance as required.
Lords, in turn, were considered vassals to more powerful rulers, and all were formally considered vassals to the king.
Feudal loyalty flowed in two directions. The citizens made an oath of loyalty to the lord, paid taxes imposed by him, and attended the court when summoned.
The lord’s In their early years, obligation included protecting the vassals Knights Templar were from intruders, an act that was admittedly identified with chastity, piety and bravery. Later, as much in the lord’s interests as in the their reputation grew less vassals’.
Out of this linear arrangement, subjected to the influence of Christianity, came the concept of chivalry. Vassals and knights, heeding the rights and property of their feudal lord, elevated the notion through terms such as “proud submission” and “dignified obedience” inspired, perhaps, by Biblical tales of Christ’s actions.
Phrased in this manner, behavior that appears to mirror a master–slave relationship was spun into something more reputable and uplifting. As contradictory as it may sound, individuals could elevate their status by lowering their position on behalf of some splendid goal. Popular literature suggests that the incentive for chivalrous behavior was romantic interest in an elegant lady who had stolen the knight’s heart, and to whom he pledged eternal reverence. In reality, a knight’s “proud submission” was made either to God or to the lord who controlled the knight’s destiny. The romantic aspect of chivalrous behavior, glorifying womanhood in a manner that combined worship of the Virgin with suppressed sexual desire, remains an inspirational source for much fiction but was basically a by-product of a deeper motivation.
Chivalric demands were rigid. Obligations were expected to be fulfilled, and vassals and knights accepted a sacred duty to defend by arms the honor and property of the class above themselves.
Since the pyramid structure of medieval society set Christ at the apex, lords, knights and vassals alike were equally obligated to defend His rights and honor.
With feudalism solidly established throughout Europe, lords and knights, accompanied by a retinue of servants, began the practice of making pilgrimages to Jerusalem as a means of expressing their Christian faith. Reviving a concept dating back to early Greeks, who trekked to Delphi in search of wisdom, European Christians began setting off on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, first in honor of Christ, later as a means of cleansing their sins, and later still in response to direct instructions from the pope.
Prominent early pilgrims in search of spotless souls included Frotmond of Brittany, who murdered his uncle and younger brother; and Fulk de Nerra, Count of Anjou, who burned his wife alive, which was evidence of serious marital discord and abuse even in those tumultuous pre-feminist times. Both men sought forgiveness with a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and both achieved success, albeit in contrasting measure.
After years spent wandering the shores of the Red Sea and searching the mountains of Armenia for relics of Noah’s Ark, Frotmond returned home swaddled in the warmth of forgiveness for murdering his relatives, and passed the remainder of his days in the convent of Redon. For his sins, Fulk de Nerra wandered the streets of Jerusalem accompanied by a retinue of servants who beat him with rods while he repeated the words, “Lord, have mercy on a faithless and perjured Christian, on a sinner wandering
far from his home.”
His apparent sincerity impressed the Muslims so much that they granted him entry into the room of the Sacred Tomb, normally forbidden to Christians, where he threw himself prostrate upon the bejeweled floor. While wailing for his wretched soul, de Nerra managed to detach and pocket a few precious stones from the site.
The examples set by Frotmond, de Nerra and others had their impact on devout Christians. Around AD 1050, making a pilgrimage to the Holy Land was considered a duty for every able Christian as a means of assuaging guilt and appeasing the wrath of God, and the Church began assigning a pilgrimage as a common means of penance. By 1075, pilgrimage trails had become as well defined and well traveled as trade routes.
The pilgrims’ trek, usually tracing the Adriatic coast before turning overland to Constantinople and across Asia Minor to Antioch, was neither more nor less dangerous than any other journey of similar length. Their established route, however, proved a factor in 1095 when Byzantine emperor Alexius Comnenus pleaded for Pope Urban II to help in defeating a group of Muslim tribes known as the Seljuk Turks. After seizing Anatolia, the Byzantine Empire’s richest province, the Seljuks occupied Antioch, Tripoli and finally Jerusalem.
Now, it seemed, they had their eye on Constantinople itself. If the pope could organize an army of dedicated Christians to assist Byzantine troops, Alexius suggested, together they could retake Antioch and restore Jerusalem itself to Christian rule.
The promise of Christian rule over the Holy Land, bolstered by expectations of wealth tapped from the Byzantine emperor’s own treasury, was enough to inspire Urban II to launch the first papacy-sanctioned holy war. Thus, almost two hundred years of horrific slaughter on both sides began with a goal as much mercenary as it was spiritual, and in 1096 the first of nine crusades set off, inspired by Urban’s cry Deus vult! (God wills it!)
Deciding to take part in a crusade was a serious decision, even for the most devout of Christians. It meant at least two years of travel across rugged and often hostile country, although later crusades reduced the time by sailing eastward along the Mediterranean from Provence
Seeking food and shelter during the long journey from Europe to Palestine and back, pilgrims and crusaders had to deal with open hostility from both the Muslims and Greek Orthodox administrators. In response Gerard de Martignes established a hospital in Jerusalem to serve as a refuge. Consisting of twelve attached mansions, the facility included gardens and an impressive library. Soon local merchants created an adjoining marketplace to trade with the pilgrims, paying the hospital administrator two pieces of gold for the right to set up stalls.
This was too good for feudal entrepreneurs to ignore. When the flow of pilgrims swelled to an endless flood, a group of Italian traders from the Amalfi region established a second hospital near the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, this one operated by Benedictine monks, with its own profitable marketplace. Soon the second facility began overflowing, promoting the monks to create yet another hospital, dedicating it to St. John the Compassionate.
The men of St. John the Compassionate elevated the concept to a new spiritual status. They devoted their lives to providing safety and comfort for pilgrims by treating their patients as their masters, creating a prototype for every charitable organization that followed them, although none matched their dedication and humility.
This practice, of course, reflected the true origins and goals of chivalry, attracting many knights who set aside their military objectives in favor of emulating the most charitable of Christ’s teachings.
Their military bearing and discipline were never wholly discarded, however. Among those they served, the knights were liberal and compassionate; among themselves, they were rigid and austere.
They pledged vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, and their dress became a black mantle bearing a simple white cross on the breast. They were called the Sovereign
Military Order of the Hospital of Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes and of Malta, known simply as the Hospitaliers. Vows of poverty, chastity and obedience may have suited their obligations to chivalrous behavior (and, they no doubt anticipated, facilitated their entry into heaven), but they did little to protect the Hospitaliers from the dangers of attack by various factions in the Holy Land. With time, the Hospitaliers grew focused almost as much on their military actions in defense of their order as on their acts of benevolence. Most were armed knights, after all, noble of birth and adhering to the high standards of true chivalry.
They were also as human as anyone else, of that era or ours, and when powerful European duchies expressed admiration for the Hospitaliers by awarding them extensive lands in Europe, the members accepted the donations gladly. In addition to this source of income, they assumed the right to claim booty seized from defeated Muslim fighters, and by the time Gerard died in 1118 the Hospitaliers had acquired substantial assets from their patrons, and exceptional independence from Church authority.
What began as selfless dedication to the poor, injured and diseased had evolved into an organization more akin to a modern-day service club, whose well-heeled members were at least as interested in fraternal association and public status as they were in helping their neighbors.
The Hospitaliers may have been capable military men, but their raison d’être continued to be public service. Battling Muslims while fulfilling their obligations was proving a distraction from their primary goal, and others were needed to direct as much energy into fighting the enemy as the Hospitaliers were investing in caring for Christians.
It may be cynical to imply that the wealth accrued by the Hospitaliers as a result of their charitable services inspired their more celebrated brethren, but history suggests it played a role. In any case, a new society was formed within ten years of Gerard’s death. Comprised originally of nine knights led by Hugh de Payens, the followers claimed the same ascetic and pious characteristics that distinguished the original Hospitaliers.
This new group, however, focused on the hazards faced by pilgrims and Crusaders—by now the distinction was growing blurred and almost meaningless—during their trek to the Holy Land and their stay in Jerusalem.
The hazards arose from multiple threats. Egyptians and Turks resented passage and intrusion through their countries, Islamic residents of Jerusalem objected to the pilgrims’ presence, nomadic Arab tribes attacked and robbed the travelers, and Syrian
Christians expressed hostility towards the foreigners.
Much of the group’s early reputation for humility and valor was rooted in de Payens’ personality, described as “sweet-tempered, totally dedicated, and ruthless on behalf of the faith.”
To a modern sensibility, the concept of being sweet-tempered and ruthless may appear contradictory, but to medieval observers they were perfectly compatible. A battle-hardened veteran of the First Crusade, de Payens took delight in recounting the number of Muslims he had slain without, apparently, souring his day-to-day charitable mood.
And why should he? The even more pious Bernard of Clairvaux had declared that the killing of Muslims was not homicide but malicide, the killing of evil. Thousands of dead Muslims in the Holy Land may have begged to differ, but their opinions were rarely sought.
So de Payens, single-minded to the exclusion of everything except the worship of God and the slaughter of Muslims, gathered men around him who committed themselves to protecting pilgrims from danger in the same manner that Gerard’s Hospitaliers were healing and feeding them. The new group, de Payens announced, would combine the qualities of ascetic monks and valiant warriors, living a life of chastity and piety, and employing their swords in the service of Christianity. To aid them in achieving this somewhat contradictory role, they chose as their patroness La Dolce Mère de Dieu (The Sweet Mother of God), and vowed to live according to
the canons of St. Augustine.
Baldwin II, then ruling as King of Jerusalem, was sufficiently impressed with the group’s character and goals to award them a corner of his palace for their living quarters, and an annual stipend to support their work. Access to their quarters was through a passageway adjoining the church and convent of the Temple, and so they anointed themselves as Soldiery of the Temple, or With time, the Templars impressed various noblemen who proffered the same kinds of financing arrangements as the
Hospitaliers enjoyed. When one French count announced that he would contribute thirty pounds of silver annually to support the Templars’ activities, others followed suit, and soon the nascent movement was awash in the kinds of riches it originally planned to reject.
To their credit, for the first several years of their existence the Templars resisted temptations to use their growing wealth for anything except the support and defense of pilgrims. Seven years after the group’s formation, Bernard of Clairvaux wrote of the Templars,They go and come at a sign from their Master. They live cheerfully and temperately together, without wives and children and, that nothing may be wanting for evangelical perfection, without property, in one house, endeavoring to preserve the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace, so that one heart and one soul would appear to dwell in them all. They never sit idle or go gaping after news. When they are resting from warfare against the infidels, not to eat the bread of idleness they employ themselves in repairing their clothes and arms, or do something which the command of the Master or the common good enjoins.
No unseemly word or light mocking, no murmur or immoderate laughter, is let to pass unreproved
They avoid games of chess and tables; they are adverse to the chase and equally so to hawking, in which others so much delight.
They hate all jugglers and mountebanks, all wanton songs and plays, as vanities and follies of this world. They cut their hair in obedience to words of the apostle. . . . They are seldom ever washed; they are mostly to be seen with disordered hair and covered with dust, brown from their corselets and the heat of the sun. . . .
Thus they are in union strange, at the same time gentler than lambs and grimmer than lions, so that one may doubt whether to call them monks or knights. But both names suit them, for theirs is the mildness of the monk and the valor of the knight.
SOCIETIES
This was not exactly a life of beer and skittles. Even the Cistercian monks, who represented a model for the Templars, sought pleasure from life while managing to avoid the risk of death on the battlefield. Under these circumstances, only men of the highest character and most sincere virtue could endure a career as a Templar, but among ambitious and pious young men the call of chivalry was difficult to ignore. Impressive numbers of them sought membership in the Templars, swelling the ranks and raising the group’s profile among European nobility, who expressed their support by pledging money and land, and sometimes their own sons.
As membership in the Templars grew, a formal structure was imposed on the organization. Three classes were established: knights, who were men of noble families, neither married nor betrothed, and who bore no personal debt; chaplains, who were required to take vows of poverty, chastity and obedience; and serving brethren, men of wealth and talent who lacked the noble birth requirement of the knights. Eventually the brethren were divided into brethren-in-arms, who fought alongside the knights; and handicraft brethren, who performed menial chores of baking, smithing and caring for the animals, but were held in the lowest esteem within the order.
Both knights and chaplains were required to undergo a rigid initiation process and this practice, extending in modified form down to the present day, forms the root of the perception of Templars and their descendants as a secret society.
On the evening of a nominee’s reception into the order, he was inducted in the presence of other knights within a chapel.
No one else could be in attendance, nor could the candidate divulge when, where or even if the ceremony was taking place.
The procedure focused on warning the aspirant of the difficulties he was about to encounter, and demanding that he swear allegiance to the Templars’ purpose before God. Reading an account of the ceremony today suggests the initiation was a form of Middle Ages boot camp. When he wished to sleep, the candidate was told, he would be ordered to watch. When he wished to watch, he would be ordered to bed. When he wished to eat, he would be ordered to work. Could he agree to these conditions? Each demand was to be answered, clearly and loudly, with the response, “Yea, sir, with the help of God!” The initiate was to promise never to strike or wound a Christian; never to receive any service or attendance from a woman without the approval of his superiors; never to kiss a woman, even if she were his mother or sister; never to hold a child at the baptismal font or be a godfather; and never to abuse any innocent man or call him foul names, but always be courteous and polite.
Who could resist an order dedicated to such chivalrous behavior and high Christian principles? Not the Church. In 1146 Pope Eugenius III declared that Templar knights could wear a red cross on their white tunic (chosen in direct contrast with the Hospitaliers) in recognition of the martyrdom they faced, and that they were henceforth free of direct papal supervision, including the risk of excommunication. This generated an even greater flow of lands, castles and other assets into their treasury from impressed patrons.
There is no infinite resistance to perpetual temptation, and the seeds of the organization’s downfall were soon sown. Rumors spread that the Templars were engaged in extortion from the Assassins. The claim arose from the murder of Raymond, Comte de Tripoli, assumed to have been carried out by the Assassins.
In response, the Templars entered territory controlled by the Assassins, but instead of challenging the Assassins in battle they demanded a tribute of 12,000 gold pieces. While there is no record that the Assassins made any such payment, some time later they dispatched an envoy to Amaury, then King of Jerusalem, offering to convert to Christianity if the Templars would forego the tribute.
Clearly, some sort of accommodation had been reached.
Later, Templars intercepted Sultan Abbas of Egypt as he fled into the desert with his son, his harem and a goodly portion of stolen Egyptian treasures. After killing the Sultan and seizing the treasure, the Templars negotiated a deal with the Sultan’s enemies to return the son to Cairo in exchange for 60,000 gold pieces. This may have been business as usual for the times, except that the son had already agreed to convert to Christianity, which should have been enough justification to spare his life. Instead, when the Templars’ deal with the Egyptians closed, the son was placed in an iron cage and sent back to Egypt where, as he and the Templars knew, he faced death by protracted torture.
Incidents such as these marked the decline of the Templars from an ascetic order dedicated to the protection of the poor and helpless into an organization as focused on material gain as is any modern-day corporation. In fact, they set up an extensive banking system expressly to transfer money and treasures between Palestine and Europe, an action totally unrelated to their purported oaths of charity and poverty.
Their corruption did not end with money, and their change from strict asceticism to expansive materialism parallels any contemporary rags-to-riches tale. In place of modesty and humility, they grew haughty and rapacious, and they employed any deception at hand to build their impressive treasures to greater heights. In 1204, word spread throughout Palestine that an image of the Virgin near Damascus was issuing a juice or liquor from its breasts, and consuming the liquid was proving miraculous at removing sins from the souls of pious victims.
The location, unfortunately, was a fair distance from Jerusalem, along a road often raided by bandits. The Templars proposed a solution. They would risk making the journey to the image, milk it of the miraculous liquor, and bring it to the pilgrims—for a price, of course. Both the demand and the price, as might be expected, shot skyward, and the magic elixir generated substantial income for an organization launched on the basis of maintaining total poverty.
Not all of the Templar treasures could be spent on the poor or on battling Muslims. A good deal of it appears to have been invested in wine and other delights of the flesh. Soon “drink like a Templar” became a common phrase to describe someone with an excessive taste for the grape, and the Germanic language acquired a new description for a house of ill-fame: Tempelhaus.
With a life of ease and fulfillment, who wanted to wear hair shirts among Muslims in Palestine? Not the Templars, who appeared more interested in acquiring wealth than in defending the Christian faith
Their original brothers-in-arms, the Hospitaliers, had also shifted their values towards mercenary rather than spiritual incentives. They had also abandoned their emphasis on sacrifice and charity, becoming as effective on the battlefield as the Templars themselves. For several years both groups of knights sniped at each other until, in 1259, they engaged in a battle launched by the Templars reportedly in pursuit of their rival’s treasure.
More zealous (and perhaps more numerous), the Hospitaliers won, cutting to pieces every Templar who fell into their hands. Soon after, the Templars retreated to Europe where, after all, the money was.
By 1306, the Templars were nicely settled on Cyprus, close enough to Palestine to maintain the premise that they were still involved in their original mission, and far enough away from raiding Muslims to enjoy safely the benefits of their wealth. In that year Pope Clement V, who had assumed the papal throne only months before, decided to address rumors about the Templars engaging in “unspeakable apostasy against God, detestable idolatry, execrable vice, and many heresies.” He summoned the
Grand Master of the Templars, a charismatic man named Jacques de Molay, to Rome for an explanation.
De Molay, one of history’s most colorful figures, stood over six feet tall with an appearance and bearing that might have qualified him as a medieval show-biz celebrity. Born about 1240 in Burgundy of a minor noble family, de Molay joined the Templars at age twenty-five and served valiantly in Jerusalem for the next twenty years before being elected Grand Master at age fifty-five.
Arriving in Rome with sixty Knights Templar, de Molay also brought 150,000 gold florins, and substantial quantities of silver, all acquired by the Templars during their various forays in the Middle East. He left several days later with the papal equivalent of an apology, Clement explaining, “Because it did not seem likely or credible that men of such religion who . . . showed so much great and many signs of devotion both in divine offices as well as in fasts should be so forgetful of their salvation as to do these things, we are unwilling to give ear to this kind of insinuation.” De Molay may have departed Rome with Clement’s approval ringing in his ears, but he left behind the gold florins and silver.
Sensing a bribe, Philippe le Bel, the French king, grew outraged.
Once a supporter of the Templars, he now turned against them, partially in reaction to their flagrant lifestyle, and partially because of their growing power and wealth; he feared the former and lusted after the latter. The Templars, Philippe determined, were to be dissolved and their treasury, the bulk of it stored within Philippe’s domain, would be placed in the hands of the Crown. To achieve this, Philippe employed a device familiar to fans of contemporary crime stories: a jailhouse snitch.
A former Templar named Squin de Flexian, imprisoned on charges of insurrection and facing a certain death sentence, learned of Philippe’s dislike of the organization. Calling his jailer, de Flexian announced that he had dire, dark secrets of the Templars to pass on to the king. This was enough to earn de Flexian a junket to Paris, where he rambled through a litany of charges against the Templars, including secret alliances with the Muslims, initiation rites that included spitting on the cross, impregnating women and murdering their newborn babies, and ceremonies involving various acts of debauchery and blasphemy. As expected, de Flexian’s tales entranced the monarch and his court, who could not hear enough of the fascinating details. Debauchery? Blasphemy? Alliances with the enemy? Secret ceremonies? What monarch could refuse to take action against these fiends, especially with several thousand gold florins, untold treasures of silver, and extensive lands and castles waiting to be seized?
On October 13, 1307,2 in an action worthy of a gifted military field commander, Templars were arrested in coordinated raids all across Europe, with the most brutal apprehensions occurring in France. Under torture many Templars, including de Molay, confessed to activities similar to those described by de Flexian (who was hanged for his troubles). For several years the imprisoned Templars tried to defend themselves against vile charges brought against them by the French king until, in 1313, the pope announced that the Templars were to be abolished. Depending on their rank, their admissions of guilt and their sincerity in rebuking their sins, members were either banished or set free, with the exception of de Molay and three of his closest confederates.
Brought before a papal tribunal on a stage in front of Notre Dame cathedral, the four Templars were about to be sentenced to spend the rest of their lives in prison when de Molay rose to speak.
In direct and inspirational language, the Templar Grand Master protested his innocence and decried the confessions made under torture, many incriminating other Templars. His adamant refusal to admit wrongdoing and his demand for an opportunity to plead
This fell on a Friday, giving rise to the superstition of unfortunate events occurring on Friday the thirteenth. his innocence to the pope was supported by the brother of the
Dauphin of Auvergne, one of the three other high-ranking Templars charged with similar crimes.
The tribunal was dumbfounded. They expected the Templars to receive their fate in silence and be grateful that their lives had been spared. The French king, upon hearing the news, was not dumbfounded at all. He was outraged, and demanded that the two Templars not only be burned at the stake, but that it be done slowly so that the men suffered as much agony as possible.
The following day, de Molay and Guy of Auvergne were trundled to the downstream point of the Île de la Cité, a site now known as the Square du Vert-Galant, one of the most attractive locations in all of Paris. Still declaring their innocence they were stripped naked and bound to posts. Then, in the words of one Templar scholar,
The flames were first applied to their feet, then to their more vital parts. The fetid smell of their burning flesh infected the surrounding air, and added to their torments; yet still they persevered in their declarations [of innocence]. At length, death terminated their misery. Spectators shed tears at the view of their constancy, and during the night their ashes were gathered up to be preserved as relics.
The Templars’ treasury was seized by Philippe, who claimed the majority of the prize to cover expenses incurred in trying and executing its members. The leftover amount he distributed to the Hospitaliers and King Edward II of England, who had somewhat reluctantly agreed to banish Templars from his own realm.
Legend has it that de Molay, while being tied to the stake for his execution, predicted that Pope Clement would follow him within forty days and the king would join them all within a year. If so, he was correct. Clement died of colic the following month and, while his body was lying in state, a fire swept through the Jacques de Molay church and consumed most of his corpse. A died a martyr’s death and helped elevate the his horse and broke his neck
In another, more contemporary incident, de Molay has been identified as the figure imprinted on the mysterious Shroud of Turin. First displayed in 1357, the shroud was claimed to have been recovered from Constantinople by crusaders who sacked the city in 1307. The apparent imprint of a bearded figure on the material was attributed to Christ, suggesting the shroud had been used to wrap his body after it had been removed from the cross. Carbon dating, however, revealed that the shroud material dated only as far back as the late thirteenth century, initiating new speculation that de Molay had been wrapped in the material following one of his torture sessions during his years of imprisonment. The size and appearance of the image on the shroud could as easily be de Molay’s as anyone’s, adding to the mystique of de Molay’s martyrdom.
The actions of Philippe, Edward and other rulers who were persuaded to follow the French lead failed to annihilate the Templars, and remnants of the society retained the organization’s structure in a deeply clandestine manner lest they share the same fate as de Molay and Guy of Auvergne.
Secret activities that had been conducted under de Molay’s leadership were enhanced and sanctified. A few sources claim that documents prepared by de Molay shortly before his death appointed Bertrand du Guesclin to succeed him as Templars
Grand Master, and the leadership position was filled over time by a succession of prominent French citizens, including several princes of the house of Bourbon.
More enduring, especially among French citizens, has been a suspicion that Philippe failed to seize all the Templars’ treasures.
Stories have abounded for centuries that immense troves of gold and jewels lay waiting for someone to locate them.
One tale concerns pretty Rosslyn Chapel near Edinburgh, whose intricate stone carvings are claimed by some to be a secret code understood only by Templars and Freemasons. When deciphered, the code supposedly identifies the location of the Holy Grail and the Templars’ fortune, both hidden nearby. The chapel’s link to the Templars is questionable, because it was built 170 years after the death of de Molay, yet the story persists in spite of the fact that extensive investigation and excavation have revealed nothing remotely of value or interest around or beneath the chapel.
Another legend suggests that much of the Templars’ wealth was buried on OakIsland, in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Nova Scotia.
Tales of Templar treasure may be rampant, but real-life Templars today are not—except, perhaps, via a lineage extending down to modern-day Freemasons. Masons have been of two minds about the linkage with Templars. On one hand, the idea of Masons as direct descendants of the martyred Templars adds an aura of mystique and grandeur to the organization; whatever their faults, the Templars’ image has benefited from the burnishing of time, and they are now widely viewed as noble knights sacrificed to a larcenous king and a perfidious pope. On the other hand, no direct historical association can be found between the Templars and Masons—which, of course, has not prevented widespread speculation and garish fable from connecting the two.
Fear of the Assassins grew not only out of their ruthlessness but also from the unpredictability of their actions, and the near impossibility of preventing an attack once a command was issued. Hasan and his successors originated and perfected the strategy of “sleeper cells,” dedicated killers dispatched to communities hundreds of miles away and instructed to meld into local society until ordered to act. These devotees might wait for years untilcontacted by an envoy. By this time, they could approach the victim without raising suspicion about their identity or intention.
Adding to the difficulty would be the assassin’s demeanor—calm almost pleasurable, not fearing reprisal but actually welcoming it as his entry into Paradise.
The Assassins, under the direction of Hasan and his lieutenants, terrorized the Middle East into the thirteenth century. Hasan’s son and loyal followers assumed leadership after the founder’s death, and at least three generations of his descendants carried on his work. But not even the Assassins could resist the brutality of the Mongols.
Hasan’s grandson provided the first break with the murderous tradition. Upon his elevation to the position of Imam in 1210, Hasan III did the unthinkable by converting to the Sunni faith, restoring Islamic law and even inviting Sunni teachers to visit
Alamut. The apparent conversion had less to do with theology than with practicality and survival: hordes of Mongols, whose legendary ferocity made even the Assassins quake in their boots, were beginning to flow across the steppes into Persia.
Faced with a common enemy both Shiites and Sunnis set aside their differences to launch a mutual defense.
Hasan III’s sense of discretion was not, unfortunately for his followers, passed on to his son Muhammad III, also called Aladdin (Height of the Faith). Muhammad returned the group to Shiite beliefs and exceeded all previous Assassin leaders for cruelty to the point where most historians consider him mad. He was so intolerable that his followers quickly transferred their allegiance to his son Khurshah, who attempted to negotiate an understanding with the Mongols now heavily infiltrating the mountainous area.
It was too late. In the mid-thirteenth century, the Mongol leader Hulagu Khan began methodically attacking each mountain stronghold of the Assassins. Using trickery, brutality and the force of overwhelming arms, the Mongols seized each fortress one by one, slaughtering the inhabitants and laying waste to the carefully contrived Paradise on Earth.
The Assassins were too devoted, too fanatic, and too numerous to be totally eliminated, even by the Mongols who swept through the region like a tsunami of slaughter. A few managed to escape to India, where they became known as the Khojas (honorable converts) and resumed their practices on a limited scale. Remnants of the sect reportedly still exist in Iraq, Iran and Syria, but they are little more than splinter groups of militant Shiites.
The Assassins were more than an early prototype of Murder Inc Their influence extends, in both benign and malignant versions, through the present day. The concentric circular construction of the Abode of Learning, adapted by Hasan, became a prototype for restricted organizations and secret societies. Most notable are the Freemasons, who drew inspiration for their organizational structure from the Knights Templar, reputed allies of the Assassins during the Crusades.
The most extreme and trustworthy followers of Hasan and his successors became known as fidayeen.
The name continues to be attached to Islamic fanatics battling enemies of the Prophet, whether infidel Westerners or Muslims following a wrong path. For most of them, including the fanatical young men who flew hijacked American aircraft into the WorldTradeCenter on September 11, 2001, the motivation continues to be the promise of eternity in Paradise, an incentive that seems to work even without the persuasion of Hasan’s contrived “previews.”
The tactic of embedding followers into a targeted society as “sleepers,” suicidal fanatics prepared to slaughter as many people as necessary in the name of their cause, is another element inherited from a millennium ago. Both the promise of Paradise and adherents immersing themselves for years in the very culture they have vowed to destroy are familiar to everyone aware of Al Qaeda.
Al Qaeda first design
Al Qaeda does not entirely duplicate the design first established by the Assassins. Their assumed leader Osama bin Laden is a Sunni, not a Shiite, although extreme elements from both factions stand united against much of the Western world. And while the Assassins recruited young men as suicidal killers on the promise of immediate dispatch to Paradise and the arms of waiting houris, violent Muslim factions recently have succeeded in recruiting young women to carry out similar missions based, apparently, solely on dedication to the group’s success. Clearly, however, the link between Hasan’s Assassinsand bin Laden’s Al Qaeda remains unbroken. Were Hasan, the Old Man of the Mountain, to meet with Osama bin Laden, the leader of Al Qaeda, they would see each other as compatriots, brothers under the skin.
An afternoon with a barely clad girl willing to engage him in carnal delights would have the usual impact on a pubescent boy heightened even more by his narcotic-induced state of mind.
Hasan’s manipulation of his young followers spawned more than an efficient killing machine. It also spawned other fables that may or may not be rooted in reality.
As described in the ancient work Art of Imposture by Abdel-Rahman of Damascus, Hasan strengthened his power over the trusting disciples by digging a deep, narrow pit in the floor of his chambers.
Within the pit he positioned a young man, known to others in the fortress, so that only the youth’s head appeared above the level of the floor. Then, after filling in the space surrounding the young man’s body, Hasan had a two-piece circular dish with a hole in the middle set on the floor around the man’s neck as though the head were resting on a plate. To add to the subterfuge, fresh blood was poured on the plate, completing the realistic impression of a severed head.
Recruits, perhaps drugged with hashish, were brought into the room and, in their presence, the “head” explained that he had followed the Master’s instructions, earning himself a place in Paradise. While his awed compatriots listened, the much-alive young man described all the pleasures he was enjoying there—endless fruit and wine, luxurious surroundings, and beautiful and willing young virgins.
“You have seen the head of a man who died while carrying out my commands,” Hasan told the undoubtedly wide-eyed onlookers.
“He is a man you all know. I willed him to speak with his own tongue of the pleasures that his soul is enjoying even now. Go and fulfill my orders.” It was pretty persuasive stuff, made even more plausible when, after the recruits departed, Hasan chopped off the talking head—no doubt to its owner’s surprise—and displayed it on the parapet of the fortress for everyone to see.
Their former colleague, Hasan’s followers believed, was indeed enjoying the pleasures of Paradise, even as they remained on earth. How soon could they join him?
None of the reported techniques used by Hasan and those who replaced him is surprising to contemporary experts Psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton, in his book Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism, outlines three primary characteristics of secret societies that are as effective today as they were in Hasan’s time.
They are the following:
1. A charismatic leader who becomes an object of worship when the general principles that originally sustained the group lose their power.
2. A process such as coercive persuasion or thought reform.
3. Economic, sexual and other forms of exploitation of group members by the leader and ruling coterie.
The Assassins were not overly selective in choosing their victims during the Crusades, they supported whichever side suited their purposes while maintaining a vendetta against Sunnis. On at least one occasion they combined forces with the Knights Templar,hated enemies of Saladin and his Islamic defenders of Jerusalem.
And by charging fees from others in a murder-for-hire operation, the Assassins built a substantial income over the years.
When their reign of terror against selected targets rose to a crest, a mere rumor that an individual had somehow offended Hasan or had been selected for death was sufficient for the man to flee for his life. Few managed to escape.
Added to the certainty of death was the uncertainty of its time and place. The sultan’s own Prime Minister, Nizam-al-Mulk, was cut to pieces by an Assassin posing as a dervish while Nizam was being carried in a litter to his harem, his mind likely diverted with expectations of carnal delights even as the dagger was plunged into his chest. The Atabeg1 of Hims warned that he had been selected for murder by the Assassins, kept a contingent of armed guards always at his side. As the atabeg entered a mosque for prayers, the guards relaxed their vigil, for who would dare offend Allah by committing murder at such a time? In an eye blink, the atabeg was surrounded by Assassins who cut him to ribbons. And when a Christian, the Marquis Corrado di Montefeltro, was named for death, he was attacked by two Assassins posing as monks even as the marquis was being entertained by the Bishop of Tyre at a banquet. They managed only to wound the marquis before one of the Assassins was killed. The other managed to escape and hide in the chapel, where he knew the marquis would arrive to give thanks for his deliverance from certain death. He did, and as the marquis knelt in prayer, the surviving Assassin emerged from behind the altar and finished the job before dying in bliss at the hands of guards.
When it served their advantage, the Assassins chose intimidation over outright murder. After the Assassins dispatched the son of Nizam-al-Mulk with their daggers, the father declared he would lead an army unlike any in history, march on Alamut, and destroy it and all of its inhabitants. One evening, arriving within sight of the fortress and making camp in the foothills of the Alborz, Nizam-al- Mulk went to sleep confident that he would rise the next day to Atabeg was a title of nobility commonly used in Mesopotamia from the twelfth century. The term indicated a governor of a nation, below an emperor or king in rank but above a khan, as well as a military adviser to a young and inexperienced prince lead his warriors against the Assassins, wiping them from the face of the earth.
When he awoke in the morning, he found a dagger buried to its hilt in the sand next to his head, the blade piercing a note warning that nothing but massacre awaited him and his army.
None of Nizam-al-Mulk’s entourage could explain how the dagger and note had been placed there. No one had been seen approaching his tent. Had it been ghosts or spirits? Whatever it was, Nizam-al-Mulk decided to call off his attack, instructing his forces to avoid the region in the future, and providing Hasan and his followers with a free hand throughout the Muslim world.
As Hasan increased both his power and wealth he expanded his authority, acquiring and strengthening fortifications among the crags of the Alborz, each impregnable to all but the largest most dedicated armies. And as the years passed, Hasan acquired a description that sounds almost paternal to today’s ears.
He and each of his descendants who led a group of Assassins, including the Dai-el-Kebir, became known as the Old Man of the Mountain.
The Assassins did not restrict themselves to political or spiritual figures, nor did they lack an appreciation for the power of psychology to achieve their goals, as they proved with their intimidation of the sultan. The Imam Razi, one of he great Muslim intellectuals of his era, was foolish enough to insult the Assassins by declaring they were not qualified theologians, until visited by an envoy of the group who offered the Imam a choice: death by dagger or an annual pension of a thousand gold pieces. The imam’s condemnation promptly ceased, causing a colleague to ask why the wise man was no longer criticizing the Assassins. The old man glanced quickly around. “Because,” he whispered, “their arguments are so sharp and pointed.”
