Greed

by D Thomas Jewett

  “How? Why do you think that?”

  “Because it will send jobs to countries' whose cost of labor is lower. And it will cause investment capital to move out of the U.S. as well.”

  Trish leaned back and folded her arms. Shaking her head, she said, “Don't you think you're being just a bit paranoid?”

  Dwayne looked at her and smiled. “I don't think so, Trish. Just look at all that's been going on.

  “Like what?”

  “Like George Bush's announcement of his 'new world order' right after the fall of the USSR.” Dwayne’s gaze was steady.

  “So what?”

  “So, he was the President at the time he said it. And frankly, I take him at his word.” Dwayne was becoming exasperated as he continued. “You may not see it, but I see this as the beginning of the decline of our country. It won’t happen all at once; nor will it happen quickly. But this is a clear move to begin merging the United States into a world order and making the U.S. subservient to world powers.”

  Trish frowned. “But if you're correct, what can we – what should we do about it?”

  Dwayne turned and looked at Trish, the mother of his children and the most beautiful woman the world has ever known. “Well, we first need to take care of ourselves and our family.”

  “And then?”

  Dwayne heaved a sigh, and then said, “Damn it, we need to fight.”

  Dwayne’s face became flushed. “And by fight, I don’t mean that we pick up guns and start shooting people. I mean that we look for ways to subvert these rascals – these – these Powers That Be. To me, the best way to fight these bastards is to go back to our Constitution; to use the rule of law to oust these vermin from our government.”

  Big man that he was, Dwayne was exuding passion now. “We must educate people. We must bring knowledge to people. The truth! For the truth be told, these vermin are stealing our wealth from us, and they are stealing the best and brightest of our children. They are driving us deeper and deeper into debt through their endless inflation. And they have driven us to mortgage the future of our children and our grandchildren.”

  Trish's pleading eyes looked deep into Dwayne's. “But are you sure? Are you really sure there's someone behind this?”

  Dwayne sighed. And then he said, “I don't know.”

  Chapter 2 – Circa 1994

  I am just saying that we need to be honest about the fact that we are transferring from the United States at a practical level significant authority to a new organization. This is a transformational moment. I would feel better if the people who favor this would just be honest about the scale of change.

  I agree .. this is very close to Maastrict [the European Union treaty by which the EU member nations have surrendered considerable sovereignty], and twenty years from now we will look back on this as a very important defining moment. This is not just another trade agreement. This is adopting something which twice, once in the 1940s and once in the 1950s, the U.S. Congress rejected. I am not even saying we should reject it; I, in fact, lean toward it. But I think we have to be very careful, because it is a very big transfer of power.

  — Newt Gingrich, House Ways and Means Committee hearings during June 1994. He later became Speaker of the House of Representatives.

  * * * * *

  Mark Shannon and George Redding were best of friends. As roommates, they could count on each other for a good time – and at least one of them was always in the mood for that! As were their friends, who looked forward to their frequently raucous parties.

  But this was Monday evening. It was not a typical party night – at least, not for them. And yet the party was going great guns. The crowd noise was deafening as the booze flowed freely, and smoke filled the air. But through all the noise – the music blasting, the voices yelling, and whatever other grotesque sounds might be heard – fragments of conversation nonetheless intruded into Mark’s subconscious.

  “Hey, Buzz! How’re you doing?”

  “. . . I LOVE you, Dolly! I LOVE YOU!”

  “. . .Oh shit! You bastard . . .”

  “. . . so I says to this guy . . . “

  In short, the party was typical of that thrown by a 20-something year-old (aspiring) man.

  His drink teetering in his hand, Mark was oblivious to the noise even as he weaved and wound his way through the smoke and the crowd. But then he stumbled over someone’s foot. Regaining his balance, he looked up to see the owner of the foot – a hot young babe oozing hormones from her tight, pert body. Mark had never met her. Short, blond, and talking incoherently with a young guy, she paused and turned, peering at Mark through her bloodshot eyes. “I’m so sorry,” the slurring words rolled off her full lips. Mark did not know what to say, so he just smiled and moved on.

  Although somewhat intoxicated, Mark kept his eye peeled on the entrance door. Previous experience taught him to be wary of someone busting in to crash the party. A crasher could be some kids cruising around; or it might be the police. Mark spied a guy near the entrance. The guy was gesturing to him, and mouthing, come here!

  Mark weaved and wobbled his way through the crowd, the smoke, and the noise. Reaching the door, the guy shouted into his ear, “The police are outside. They want to talk with you.”

  Mark nodded his head and grimaced. “Shit!”

  Mark’s brain fog slowed his thoughts to a crawl. Thinking ... thinking … He finally realized, I just don’t know if there’s marijuana in here. I better go outside and talk with them, ‘cause it’s too risky to let ‘em in. “Hookay,” he said to the young guy. He opened the door and stepped outside.

  “Good evening, officers,” Mark slurred. “How may I help you?”

  The lead officer had a stern look on his face. “Is this your apartment?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Mark. Mark Shannon.”

  “Shannon ... Shannon ... Hey – I’ve heard of you! You've been a real troublemaker around here,” the cop sneered.

  Mark tried to keep his expression neutral; but he secretly smiled at his notoriety.

  “What’s that smoke in there?”

  Mark assumed a look of pure innocence. “Smoke? Ah, well officer, I’m sure it’s just cigarettes. After all, there’s no law against smoking cigarettes, is there?” I think he's suspicious. I bet they'll try to get in.

  “Hmmm.” The officer continued. “We received a call from one of your neighbors.”

  “Which one?”

  The cop’s eyes became hard. “Never mind which one, Mr. Shannon. The bottom line is this: you need to quiet this crowd down.”

  Despite his intoxication, Mark nodded his agreement. He had been down this road before. “Yes sir. O-o-okay officer. I will take care of it right away.”

  “And one more thing,” the cop continued. “If we get a callback on this, you’ll be going to jail for disturbing the peace.”

  “Yes sir, officer.”

  The police officers turned and left, and Mark re-entered his apartment.

  Mark knew that he’d be screwed if they came back. He chuckled under his breath, thinking, if nothing else, the marijuana in here could get me in a lot of trouble!

  He walked over to the stereo and turned down the volume – this caused a few partiers to look over in his direction. Mark then let out a loud, shrill whistle and yelled for attention. “Hey everybody! Listen up!”

  Most turned and looked at Mark, although a few voices continued talking.

  Mark yelled again while waving his arms. “Listen up! Hey – you! Listen up!”

  Mark waited a moment for the crowd’s attention. And then he said in a loud voice, “The cops were just here. They’ve threatened me with jail if they have to come back.”

  Hearing this, some people in the crowd let out catcalls and boos.

  Mark continued yelling. “Keep it down, damn it! Keep it down. The music will be off for the rest of the night!”

  The crowd began murmuring and milling around a
mongst themselves.

  Mark was watching the crowd even as George stumbled up to him. George was wobbling back and forth, seemingly ready to keel over.

  “Hey, buddy. Good job, man!”

  Mark felt tipsy; but nowhere near George’s condition. “Shouldn’t you go lay down?”

  George wobbled some more; leaning forward and then jerking himself almost upright. “Yep,” George slurred.

  Mark wrapped his arm around George and guided him into his bedroom. He sat George on the edge of the bed and took George’s drink. Mark walked over to the dresser and placed the drink on top of it. He turned back toward the bed to find George slumped over on the bed – he was snoring. Mark helped him into the bed and made sure he was facing down, just in case he puked.

  His legs still unsteady, Mark wobbled back into the living room and watched as the crowd filed out the door. It was Monday night and many people needed to go to work in the morning.

  Mark was swaying to the left when he felt something wet in his ear. He turned to find a blond withdrawing her tongue – and this time, he wasn’t tripping over her foot.

  “Hey stud,” she whispered into his ear. “I don’t think I can make it home.” She ran her hand along his chest as she looked at him. “Do you have a place I can stay?”

  Intensely sexual feelings washed through Mark as he pulled her close. Their tongues found each other in a deep throaty kiss, and the two became engulfed in lust.

  They ended their kiss. Mark looked into her eyes, seeing a smoldering lusty desire. “Yeah,” Mark’s voice was hoarse – deep. “I think I can find a place. Just follow me.”

  Mark put his arm around her and they weaved and wobbled off together into Mark’s bedroom.

  * * * * *

  With a splitting headache and red, watery eyes, Mark Shannon stumbled along an open aisle in the parking lot adjacent to a line of parked cars. He continued his wobbly path south across the street, and finally into the Hart Senate Office Building. Mark was still dizzy from last night's party – his partying didn't cease until the early morning hours. Let’s see – what was her name? Oh – right. Laura! I need to give her a call today.

  Mark walked down the hallway toward Senator Leech’s office suite. As the junior Senator from California, Mark was recently hired as a junior legislative aide. But because he had worked on the Senator's campaign, they were more than just acquaintances. He had a lot of respect for the Senator, and even more respect for the Senator's views: universal health care, environmental activism, gun control, and help for the less fortunate, to name just a few.

  Mark had watched the Senator fight his way through the campaign – a bruising campaign that had left the Senator damaged and licking his wounds. His opponent – a republican executive of a large technology company – dragged the Senator’s family through the nasty muck of political brinkmanship. Slinging mud, insults, and innuendo all have a way of stripping a man’s dignity, and the Senator's dignity was left behind in a trail of crumbs.

  This morning, Mark’s head was spinning without focus as he stumbled into Senator Leech’s office suite. The Senator’s Chief of Staff, Stacy Klinger, happened to be talking with the receptionist, but he looked up just in time to see Mark trip on his own feet. Stacy snorted and glared. “It’s about time you made it in. Where’ve you been?”

  Mark looked away as he smiled his secret smile; and then he took on a look of childish innocence as he turned back to the Chief of Staff.

  “Aw c’mon, Stacy. The buses were running late.”

  Stacy grunted and looked him in the eye. “Bullshit! You don't take the bus, do you?”

  Mark remained silent.

  “The Senator wants you to go with Maggie to a committee hearing this morning.” Stacy looked at his watch. “It starts in ten minutes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s in the Russell Office Building – second floor.”

  “What’s the name of the committee?”

  “I can’t remember. Ah – the Commerce Committee. The Chairman is Fritz Hollings. They’re talking about GATT – the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade – or some such nonsense. It’s all Greek to me, kid!”

  Maggie Marsden was the lead legislative aide on economic issues. Mark didn't know her all that well; but what he knew of her, he liked. She had been on the Senator's staff when he was a Congressman, and the Senator brought her along when he won election to the Senate. She was older than Mark by about 10 years, and was somewhat aloof toward him – sometimes looking down on him with disapproval.

  Mark glanced into Maggie's office and looked back at Stacy. “Where is she?”

  “She’s already left. You better get going kid – and make sure you take good notes!”

  Mark ran out of the office and sprinted over to the Russell building. Panting, he arrived just before the hearing was called to order. Standing in the entrance, he scanned the chamber looking for Maggie. There were several of these conference rooms in the building – large, expansive, and usually paneled in birch or some other hardwood. He could see the committee members seated at a long desk on one side of the room. The remainder of the room was populated with audience seating and front-row seating for witnesses' testimony.

  Mark spied Maggie seated in the audience, and made his way over to her.

  Maggie glanced at him as he sat down. Pursing her lips, she said, “Tough night?”

  Mark's face turned red. “Yeah. It was damn hell.” Then he smiled. “Actually, I had trouble with the bus this morning.”

  Maggie looked dubious. “I thought you drove in?”

  “Oh, ah – not today,” he lied.

  “Well, just be sure you take good notes. They’re going to be talking about the World Trade Organization. I'm gonna take notes too, but I'm especially interested in your impression of the witnesses.”

  “I'll be on top of it,” Mark promised.

  Just then, Senator Fritz Hollings called the hearing to order.

  Mark suffered through the preliminary discussions. Beginning with introductory remarks, the discussion soon moved on to a couple of economists who were questioned on comparative advantage. Mark was somewhat schooled in economics, so he understood the notion of comparative advantage – that some countries could produce certain goods more efficiently than others – and therefore, each country would benefit by trading with the other. He listened, but found no reason to take notes on this portion of the hearing.

  The witnesses droned on and on. The voices were low-pitched and muffled; and Mark was drifting off as he heard the name ‘Sir James Goldsmith’. Mark's head jerked and he smirked from under his eyelids. He was back in a long lost time, where King Arthur and his Knights were doing battle against the Saxons. Riding on top of his armored mount and decked out in his chain-mail armor, he held his sword high above his head.

  Then his head jerked up again. What the hell is English royalty doing here? He thought.

  The testimony was hypnotic; and Mark became ever more drowsy as the discussion wore on. But in between his 'adventures', he picked out snippets of the discussion.

  ... Global free trade will force the poor of the rich countries to subsidize the rich in poor countries. What GATT means is that our national wealth, accumulated over centuries, will be transferred from a developed country like Britain to developing countries like Communist China, now building its first oceangoing navy in 500 years. China, with its 1.2 billion people, three Indochinese states with 900 million, the former Soviet republics with some 300 million, and many more can supply skilled labor for a fraction of Western costs. Five dollars in Communist China is the equivalent of a $100 wage in Europe.

  Mark jerked his head up as Maggie nudged him. “Mark!” She whispered. “Take notes! I can’t remember all of this!”

  “K,” he mumbled. Mark began taking notes but again succumbed to the incessant droning. He again nodded off ...

  It is quite amazing that GATT is sowing the seeds for global social upheaval and that it is not
even the subject of debate in America. If the masses understood the truth about GATT, there would be blood in the streets of many capitals. A healthy national economy has to produce a large part of its own needs. It cannot simply import what it needs and use its labor force to provide services for other countries. We have to rethink from top to bottom why we have elevated global free trade to the status of sacred cow, or moral dogma. It is a fatally flawed concept that will impoverish and destabilize the industrialized world while cruelly ravaging the Third World.

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  And this is the big point, Mr. Chairman. What we are witnessing is the divorce of the interests of the major corporations and the interests of society as a whole. It used to be said that what was good for General Motors--and we all believed it, probably was true--was good for the United States. That is no longer true. The trans-national corporations, Mr. Chairman, I've just brought some figures that came out recently, they now have 4.8 trillion dollars per annum in sales; they account for one-third of global output; the largest one-hundred account for one-third of all foreign direct investment. Now where do you think the bulk of that investment is going? It's going where it earns the most; there's no other way it can go. What chief executive can invest otherwise, Mr. Chairman?

  So, if as you've heard today, you have freedom of movement of capital, freedom of movement of technology, and you can employ people for forty or fifty times cheaper who are skilled, and you can import their products back anywhere in the world--that's the basis of global free trade--how can those investments, how can these trans-national companies who have 4.8 trillion dollars of sales invest anywhere other than where it's cheapest and where their return is greatest? Because if they don't, the system that you and your colleagues would be voting for, if you pass it, forces them to do it; otherwise they go bankrupt.