by Margaret Anna Alice. Originally published on her Substack.
I know how much you like playing super-villain, Klaus, but you’re really more of a mediocre-villain. C+ at best. Sorry to break it to you.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t summon terror, rage, or even disgust when I behold your dopey, dull, doltish demeanor. The most I can muster is pity. And cringe. Lots and lots of cringe.
Fawning over Henry Kissinger, for example. Like a tongue-tied seventh-grader crushing on a rock star backstage, you tumble over yer verds, a goofy smile frozen on your flushed face as you bat your eyelashes at your dreamy guru.
You were equally smitten with David Rockefeller protégé, “collectivist global government” advocate, self-described socialist, multimillionaire, suspected bribee, climate change godfather, Agenda 21 instigator, and WEF Cofounder and Executive Chairman Maurice Strong, whom you described as follows after his death in 2015:
“He was one of the most extraordinary personalities I ever met.… He was my mentor since the creation of the Forum: a great friend; an indispensable advisor; and, for many years, a member of our Foundation Board. Without him, the Forum would not have achieved its present significance.”
This is a man who once mused about a “fiction book” in which a global cabal torpedoed civilization to save the planet:
“What if a small group of world leaders were to conclude that the principal risk to the Earth comes from the actions of the rich countries? And if the world is to survive, those rich countries would have to sign an agreement reducing their impact on the environment. Will they do it? The group’s conclusion is ‘no.’ The rich countries won’t do it. They won’t change. So, in order to save the planet, the group decides: Isn’t the only hope for the planet that the industrialized civilizations collapse? Isn’t it our responsibility to bring that about?”
What’s weird is that sounds exactly like the Club of Rome’s origin story:
I’m sure it’s just a case of coinciditis. There’s a lot of that going around these days.
After predicting two thirds of the population will die off by 2031 (interesting choice of year) in his autobiography, Where on Earth Are We Going?, Strong dreams a little dream:
“A glimmer of hope for the future of our species and its potential for regeneration.”
In a 1972 BBC interview, he admits to having gotten into trouble for raising the idea of reproductive licenses:
“Licenses to have babies incidentally is something that I got in trouble for some years ago for suggesting even in Canada that this might be necessary at some point, at least some restriction on the right to have a child.”
Championing a one-world government, Strong writes:
“The concept of national sovereignty has been an immutable, indeed sacred, principle of international relations. It is a principle which will yield only slowly and reluctantly to the new imperatives of global environmental co-operation. It is simply not feasible for sovereignty to be exercised unilaterally by individual nation states, however powerful. The global community must be assured of global environmental security.”
You certainly have a type, Klaus.
And then there’s your cuddle session with Albert Bourla where you got all gooey and bonded over those silly anti-vaxxer conspiracy theorist far-right–wing extremists saying mean, misinformationy things about you both.
Your girlish infatuation with father-figure strongmen probably stems from your daddy issues. Growing up as the son of a Nazi collaborator couldn’t have been easy, especially one who:
“led the Nazi-supported German branch of a Swiss engineering firm into the war as a prominent military contractor. That company, Escher-Wyss, would use slave labor to produce machinery critical to the Nazi war effort.”
It must be irksome trying to keep that Totenkopf jammed in the closet.
You were seven when Germany surrendered to the allies. A certain axiom comes to mind:
“Give me a child until he is seven, and I will show you the man.”
Smart dude, that Aristotle.
But it was your dad, not you, who abetted Nazis, I hear you saying. You were just a boy, sins of the father notwithstanding.
Fair enough. But you went on to work for Escher-Wyss. Remember, Herr Professor? You put it on your factsheet.
There’s no shame in that, you might say. Plenty of people are proud to work for IBM, to which the Final Solution owed its astounding efficiency. And some of the world’s most popular automobile corporations—BMW, Mercedes, Porsche, and Volkswagen—made bank during the Third Reich. I won’t even get into I.G. Farben. (You’ll find these all on the Successful Rebranding Campaigns masterclass syllabus.)
So maybe Escher-Wyss reformed just like those wholesome multinationals had. But—yes, another but—while you served on the board in the sixties, Escher-Wyss (later Sulzer AG) “began secretly procuring and building key parts for nuclear weapons” and “helped South Africa’s apartheid government develop their illegal nuclear weapons program.”
Oops. That doesn’t sound so good. Better stuff that uhlaka lwamathambo back in the closet, too.
Despite your grandiloquence, claims of inventing stakeholder capitalism, and vaunts about having “penetrate[d] the global cabinets of countries with our WEF Young Global Leaders,” you strike me as a big-ticket huckster, a carnival barker to Davos Man with “an incredible knack to smell the next fad.”
You glom onto lasciviously opulent, illustrious, world-spinning philanthropaths, flattering them to curry favor as they pipe metric tonnenweise of Swiss francs into your accounts.
Your nephew, Hans Schwab, exposed your history of avarice when he described a last-minute ownership change in a business contract once you got a whiff of the plump sums involved:
“He said, ‘This needs to get done right now.’
“I had never heard of the Schwab Foundation, and I suddenly had to change all of the contracts. I knew it was his little thing that he was cooking up. Suddenly, in the last hour, he could see that there was going to be huge sums of money involved, the sort of money that he had never seen before, and he wanted to put it in a structure over which he had 100 percent control.”
You’d think the blandished billionaires would see through your long con, but they’re just as vapid as you and feed off flummery.
The middling-minded lap up your how-to manuals on virtue-signaling the world into destruction—from COVID-19: The Great Reset to The Great Narrative to The Fourth Industrial Revolution to Stakeholder Capitalism to Shaping the Future of the Fourth Industrial Revolution.
Normally, I would read a book before bashing it, and I have perused excerpts of The Great Reset here and there. Thankfully, braver souls than me have suffered those soul-evaporating pages for the rest of us.
As the uproariously mordant Chris Bray explains of his decision to finally read your book:
“It’s a little like saying, ‘Man, you know, I’ve never gone swimming in the sewer,’ and then pulling on your swimsuit.”
eugyppius also dove into the effluvium, bless him, and reported back from the frontlines with The Terrifying Vacuity of Klaus Schwab:
“You have the feeling not only of a sad, small man, struggling to play the part of global governance guru, but of his equally pathetic audience of Hillary Clintons and Olaf Scholzes and Emmanuel Macrons, who hear this garbage and somehow manage to find it insightful and wish to be associated with it. What clouded intellectual lives all these people must lead.”
Igor Chudov joined the sewage pool party with his own unique take, posing the question:
“Is there a possibility that important, world-changing ideas are wrapped in layers of feel-good, patronizing, virtue-signaling words, intentionally strung together into endless, hard-to-understand sentences?”
Igor concludes that you are indeed using “CODED LANGUAGE to Communicate Unthinkable Plans,” wrapping “radical proposals that would upend the most basic foundations of our Western societies” in such boring jargon that ordinary people cannot bear to read it and thus scoff at “conspiracy theorists” who invest the effort to decode its civilization-zapping recipe.
And this is how we wind up with Holodomor while you and your WEFing cohorts feast on Lucullian delicacies, as feisty feline el gato malo envisions:
“if you let these people try to feed new york city for a month, everyone in it would die of starvation while klaus and co ate prime rib stuffed with hummingbird tongues in a penthouse somewhere and blamed the peasants for not peasanting hard enough before flying off to davos in a fleet of private jets to hand out awards to one another.”
Perhaps JP Sears is right, after all, and you are the “most dangerous man in the world”:
But dangerous doesn’t equal smart, or superior, or special—just masterly at manipulating minions, making millions, and mass-murdering.
Don’t sulk, Klaus. You still have lots of toys left to play with.
Meanwhile, Henry, Bill, and other puppeteers will keep working your strings until you Great-Reset two thirds of us into our graves.
Or not. As a practitioner of the Stockdale Paradox, I’m betting on not. Instead, millions of decent, heroic folks and I are working to make The Good Reset come true.
Gandhi’s got a memento mori for you:
“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love have always won. There have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they can seem invincible, but in the end, they always fall. Think of it—always.”
© Margaret Anna Alice, LLC
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