“The End of Democracy” A History Lesson, Part One.

The following is from Thom Hartmann's book, “What Would Jefferson Do?” Read to the end for the surprise ending:

The end of democracy started when the government, in the midst of a worldwide economic crisis, received reports of an imminent terrorist attack. A foreign ideologue had launched feeble attacks on a few famous buildings, but the media largely ignored his efforts. The intelligence services knew, however, that the odds were he would eventually succeed. (Historians are still arguing whether or not rogue elements in the intelligence service helped the terrorist; the most recent research implies that they did not.)

But the warnings of investigators were ignored at the highest levels, in part because the government was distracted; the man who claimed to be the nation's leader had not been elected by a majority vote, and many citizens claimed he had no right to the powers he coveted. He was a simpleton, some said, a cartoon character of a man who saw things in black-and-white terms and didn't have the intellect to understand the subtleties of running a nation in a complex and internationalist world. His coarse use of language --- reflecting his political roots in a southernmost state --- and his simplistic and often-inflammatory nationalistic rhetoric offended aristocrats, foreign leaders, and the well-educated elite in the government and media. As a young man, he'd joined a secret society with an occult-sounding name and bizarre initiation rituals that involved skulls and human bones.

Nonetheless, he knew the terrorist was going to strike (although he didn't know where or when), and he had already considered his response. When an aide brought him word that the nation's most prestigious building was ablaze, he verified that it was the terrorist who had struck and then rushed to the scene and called a press conference.

“You are now witnessing the beginning of a great epoch in history,” he proclaimed, standing in front of the burned-out building, surrounded by national media. “This fire,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion, “is the beginning.” He used the occasion- “a sign from God,” he called it-to declare a war not on another nation but on a tactic: terrorism. The terrorism his country was suffering from, he said, had to have originated with a group of people of Middle Eastern origin who rationalized their acts using religion.

Two weeks later, the first detention center for terrorists was built in Oranienberg to hold suspected allies of the infamous terrorist. In a national eruption of patriotism, the leader's flag was everywhere, even printed large in newspapers suitable for window display.

Within four weeks of the terrorist attack, the nation's now-popular leader had pushed through legislation --- in the name of combating terrorism and fighting the philosophy he said spawned it --- that suspended constitutional guarantees of free speech, privacy, and habeas corpus. Police could now intercept mail and wiretap phones; suspected terrorists could be imprisoned without specific charges and without access to their lawyers; police could sneak into people's homes without warrants if the cases involved terrorism.

To get his patriotic “Decree on the Protection of People and State” passed over the objections of concerned legislators and civil libertarians, he agreed to put a four-year sunset provision on it: if the national emergency provoked by the terrorist attack was over by then, the freedoms and rights would be returned to the people, and the police agencies would be re-restrained. Legislators would later say they hadn’t had time to read the bill before voting on it.

His federal police agencies stepped up their program of arresting suspicious persons and holding them without access to lawyers or courts. In the first year only a few hundred were imprisoned, and those who objected were largely ignored by the mainstream press, which was afraid to offend and thus lose access to a leader with such high popularity ratings. Citizens who protested the leader in public --- and there were many --- quickly found themselves confronting the newly empowered police's batons, gas, and jail cells, or fenced off in protest zones safely out of earshot of the leader's public speeches. (In the meantime, he was taking almost daily lessons in public speaking, learning to control his tonality, gestures, and facial expressions. He became a very competent orator.)

Within the first months after the attack, at the suggestion of a political adviser, he brought a formerly obscure word into common usage. He wanted to stir up “racial pride” among his countrymen, so, instead of referring to the nation by its name, he began to refer to it as “the homeland,” a phrase publicly promoted by Rudolph Hess in a 1934 speech recorded in Leni Riefenstahl's famous propaganda movie Triumph of the Will. As hoped, people’s hearts swelled with pride, and the beginning of an us-versus-them mentality was sown. Our land was “the” homeland, citizens thought: all others were simply foreign lands. We are the “true people,” he suggested, the only ones worthy of our nation's concern; if bombs fall on others, or human rights are violated in other nations and it makes our lives better, it's of little concern to us.