planned decimation

The Center for Literate Values ~ Defending the Western tradition of responsible individualism, disciplined freedom, tasteful creativity, common sense, and faith in a supreme moral being.


A Common-Sense Journal of Literary and Cultural Analysis

15.3 (Summer 2015)


fiction and humor



Notes on the Planned Decimation of the World’s Human Population, Second Draft
Ivor Davies


Dillon insisted that his essay was highly toxic.

“It could destroy you and your journal,” he nervously told his editor and friend, Makarios. “It would destroy me if I weren’t publishing it anonymously. “But no, that’s not the point. My professional destruction… I over-dramatize, perhaps.”

“What… you?” cajoled Makarios.

“What I mean is, I’m already within earshot of retirement. No one would waste a bullet on me.”

“We speak metaphorically, of course.”

“Although… naturally, if I were to start pawing coeds, I’d be out the door before the semester ended.”

“Better stick with the young lads.”

“They do fire people. I just don’t know where the red line is for ideology.”

“Over the years, Clew, you’ve given me lots of stuff that would have gotten us both professionally executed before a university kangaroo court of Political Correctness Police… yet here you are, and here I am. As I’ve told you so often, these people don’t actually read anything. If they do, it’s their own stuff—the stuff of their co-religionists. What little energy they have is largely expended on avoiding huge chunks of the real world.”

“But this is what I… this is what I need to make you understand. This time it’s different. We’re not talking about the Campus Left this time. It’s…”


“The government. Them, whoever they are. The NSA, the FBI.”

“All those people that the Campus Left used to fear. My, how times have changed!”

“But they have! Because now the Gestapo works for the Left. Or it works Left and Right… do those words even mean anything now? They mean power. I’m talking about real power. The campus idiots have always been obsessed with power, like a harlot who does any John for the right price.”

“I would prefer that you not use my name in that connection.”

“But I’m serious! You don’t want to be audited, do you? You don’t want a SWAT team crashing into your bedroom at midnight and freezing all your assets, do you?”

“Not particularly. But, you know, my impression is that IRS agents and components of SWAT teams probably read almost as seldom as university professors.”

“But it’s not a question of reading! Your online journal will be trawled by software that selects certain keyword phrases and then sends out a memo to Homeland Security to get some FISA judge to sign a warrant.”

“Didn’t know that was quite how it worked.”

“Well, it almost is. It’s getting more that way every day.”

“Then… look, in that case, given your state of apprehension, maybe you should sit on your piece for this quarter. I think we can find enough material to make up an issue.”

“In the first place,” droned Dillon, grimly but bravely, “that would be surrendering.”

“And in the second place?” After a long pause, Makarios repeated, “Is there a second place?”

“I don’t know that there is.”

Tant mieux. Then let us face the firing squad together.”

“But… but don’t you think there might be… some way that we could sort of, you know—disguise the piece? Because the other thing that bothers me about it is that it’s so pessimistic.”

“The audience fit though few of Symposium is well inured to pessimism, I imagine.”

“But it’s so, so pessimistic! I almost want to shoot myself when I reread it.”

“Or it could be made to look like a suicide.”

“I’m not joking. Reality is… the truth today is so… it’s all so end-of-the-road. Everything’s winding down. I wish I couldn’t see it—I wish I were as blind as everyone else. But I can see it.”

“But like Cassandra, you are derided when you prophesy. Yes, I think I understand now. Look, there’s a long literary tradition of serious authors hiding serious commentary behind a bit of levity or fantasy. Archbishop More transformed himself into an ungovernable dinner guest named Raphael, and then sat himself down on the other side of the table as Thomas More. Montaigne hid his criticisms in the mouths of New World cannibals. One could say that Calgacus is speaking for Tacitus… except that Tacitus’s son-in-law proceeds to vanquish Calgacus. There are ways to construct a protective shield.”

“So you think I should put the essay in a story of some kind?”

Makarios shrugged winsomely. “I don’t know. Could you? I confess that I haven’t read the piece. My eyes, you know… I’ve been suffering from a bit of eye strain.”

“No, I didn’t know.”

“Look, why don’t you just read it to me, out loud?”

“What? Right here?”

“A small space, but mine own. Is the chair too uncomfortable?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Sure, I suppose I could…”

“We don’t have any NSA bugs in here, Clew. Or if we do, we’ve already said far too much, long ago. Hang for a sheep, hand for a cow.”

“Yes, yes. Okay. Okay. I’ll skip over the documentation. It’ll just slow things down.”

“It always does.”

Dillon began:

Notes on the Planned Decimation of the World’s Human Population

Among serious-minded people who do not look away terrified from impending dark realities, there can be little doubt that a drastic reduction of the world’s population composes part of every progressive government’s agenda.

[“Nice start. Grabs the attention.”]

The self-styled “People’s Republic” of China has overtly bullied its citizens into exterminating their own babies for decades now, and continues to turn a blind eye to industrial hazards that cost thousands of lives each year.  To the PRC’s rulership, there are too many common Chinese.

Our own extermination of the next generation in North America has proceeded rather more subtly under the guise of “women’s rights” and even, bizarrely, as concern for the unborn (who are said to be doomed to a miserable existence if they see the light of day).  The advance of “gay marriage,” if it truly does advance, will at least reduce the frequency of abortion, one must suppose.

[“Hah-hah! Yes. Nice”]

Only in Putin’s Russia, of all places, does one find a regard for unborn life; and Putin’s motives, we may be sure, are more political than humanitarian.  China has manpower to burn: Russia has burned up most of its manpower.

[“All the same, Putin reminds me more of George Washington than our… never mind.”]
Even so, populations continue to grow out of control in many parts of the world.  The most prolific segments are precisely those that contribute least to society’s intellectual capital.  They represent the kind of person that the progressive architect would most like to see disappear (along with, or even more than, his political adversaries: for it is always handy to have a political adversary on whom to blame everything that goes wrong).

[“Be sure to cite the German minister who got sacked for documenting immigrant test scores.”]

What are some likely ways in which this architect can create a mass die-off after the proletariat has given him all the votes he needs to remain in perpetual power, elections suspended?  One need only look around the contemporary scene.

1) Race riots: the violent insurgencies in Ferguson, Missouri, and Baltimore over the past few months are far from a full-dress rehearsal, but they suggest how easily large masses of people may be brought to the streets once a few racial cues are given.  The unrest could easily be fanned or smothered, as desired.  The mortality rate would likely run into no more than the hundreds, even in the worst-case scenario; but it would at least create a pretext for declaring martial law and suspending elections.  A slow burn could then be sustained, and fatalities would rise over a period of several months to a tally resembling a civil war’s.


For instance: black protesters could surreptitiously disappear and be reported as victims of white supremacists; then the black community could be stirred to invade the white community and exact a gruesome vengeance; then the white community, furious that no official protection was being offered, could counter-attack; then government troops could be sent in to hike the body count on both sides and to confiscate important resources among the affluent who were implicated (or made to look implicated) in the troubles.


The ignition device is already primed.  In fact, Mexican drug cartels are a very interesting third element in this equation.  Already armed with sophisticated weaponry (often taken directly from the Mexican military), these “irregulars” could be steered in one or both directions as needed—and they could always be liquidated in the name of “justice” once they had served their purpose.  Operation Fast and Furious may only have been half about creating a pretext for rounding up civilian weapons: it also, let us realize, put a great many deadly weapons in the hands of those who may one day be called upon to thin us out with the secret blessing of our “representatives”.

2) Terrorist events: across the porous southern border comes also the looming threat of a major terrorist attack.  This could be the ignition of a small nuclear device in a major city, the downing of several jetliners simultaneously with surface-to-air missiles, the poisoning of the water supply in Dallas or Phoenix or Los Angeles, or the derailing of a train carrying toxic waste during a metropolitan rush hour.

The expertise of the cartels might be tapped, or else an ISIS-like organization might simply be allowed to fly under the radar.

The potential for casualties here, too, would frankly be exploited less by the “flash pan” event, though it should kill a million, than by the ripple effects.  Racist and xenophobic energies could be stirred up to draw angry mobs into the streets and thus create Scenario One above.  Operatives within the government itself could also “help along” the terrorists by staging follow-up atrocities of the same stamp and ascribing them to the initial deed’s villains.

States that had opposed the progressive agenda most vigorously in the past could be particularly targeted, with the most vocal and effective opponents of the new order “just happening” to lie within ground zero of a nuclear explosion.

3) Economic calamity: the clock on this time-bomb is already ticking down.  Of course, being unemployed does not in itself kill people instantly, nor does it do so cleanly later on.  Were nothing more than an utter absence of jobs and credit to afflict a bankrupt country, its progressive leaders would look extremely incompetent and draw the wrath of the people.

The absence of food on the table, however, could be used to touch off riots.  The narrative in this case would be less racial or xenophobic and more class-based.  A sympathetic government would indict corporate fat cats for undermining the domestic economy through practices like outsourcing (which indictment, by the way, would be entirely true).  Then we might see Occupy Wall Street performances on a much grander scale and with massive bloodshed.

Starvation episodes of Stalinesque proportions among the working class would come later—but now, thanks to proper preparation, they would be attributed (by a faithful media and by word on the street) to the leaders of a ruthless private sector who had defied the will of populist progressives.

4) Pandemic disease: into such turmoil—and it should be clear by now that most, if not all, of these scenarios can feed upon each other—could be stirred some sort of easily spread influenza that would winnow the populace’s numbers more efficiently than a medieval plague.  For when the Black Death arrived in Europe from the East, it fell upon both high and low.  One most suppose that in this scenario, on the contrary, the progressive elite would expertly target the selected pathogen to take out undesirables.  It might not be communicable at all, in fact: the very vaccine said to defend against it (and required of all ordinary citizens by government fiat) might contain the lethal bug or chemical.

The much-touted flu vaccine is currently required of certain workers, and one can well imagine the day at hand when all will be required by law to have it or face a stiff fine.  Yet studies have proved that this vaccine is at best neutral in preventing the flu except in very circumscribed populations (e.g., the very young and the very old)–and some evidence suggests that its possible harmful effects outnumber its likely benefit.  Furthermore, reliable sources claim that the vaccine has trace amounts of such highly toxic elements as mercury, even though government-employed medical technicians stoutly deny this.

One may argue that a crackpot may always be found who will allege a conspiracy, and this is probably true.  Unfortunately, recent years have demonstrated that government hacks may also always be found who will cover up any real conspiracy—and who will make their accusers out to be crackpots, with all of the considerable resources at their disposal.  No time in our nation’s history illustrates more painfully that a democratic republic can only succeed if the government retains the public’s trust; and that this trust, once lost, is virtually irrecoverable.  We know that disease can be deadly and that licensed experts may protect us from it; but when the “experts” have sold away their integrity, whom do we believe?  Our family doctor?  That species is vanishing, thanks to the active plotting of its demise by government.

Poisoning through mass-inoculation seems at present the quietest, most efficient, and hence perhaps most likely means of eliminating unwanted citizens in the near future, thanks to this state of affairs.

5) Weather events: yet if mass-poisoning is the most likely means of attack at the present moment, weather is the most interesting one.  Technician-equivalents of “black ops” types in America, their Russian ex-Soviet (or crypto-Soviet) counterparts, and the almost maniacally rash technicians playing catch-up under the gun of Beijing’s ruthless regime have all been dithering with something called Extremely Low Frequency (ELF) waves for the past three decades or so.  Worldwide, the number of transmitter-stations seems to have numbered four or five at the end of the last century: now various sources put the number at around twenty.

In the U.S., the program blossomed under the acronym HAARP (High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program: note the deliberate mislabeling of the wave frequency) in the mid-eighties.  Disturbingly, our program apparently collaborated with the Russians’ before the end of Soviet times, which forces one to wonder what its true objectives were.  These were certainly never very clearly stated in a public forum, and the news media obligingly allowed any possible story to evaporate.  In patent applications, however, ELF technology is stated explicitly as having the potential to affect global weather patterns, and thus to become a weapon of mass destruction.  Enemy peoples might be flooded out or, alternatively, parched to death.

The origin of this strategy might be traced to the late sixties, when American aircraft were seeding the skies above Vietnam’s mountains in an effort to bog down the flow south of the Viet Cong by jungle paths.  The current technology, though, is immensely more potent and far-reaching in its effects.

Alternatively, our own people might be turned against each other. For what has been trumpeted very loudly in every public forum for decades now is the imminent threat of “climate change (alias “global warming”). The ignorant and incurious but generally guilt-ridden North American masses are already well primed to be finessed into believing, once weather-manipulation is deployed, that certain segments of society are solely responsible for their misery. Yet another fuse for rioting and social chaos waits to be lit.

As know-nothing journalists pen clichés about climate change this spring, never suspecting what strings move their busy fingers, areas in the mid-US are soaking up daily deluges that this author (who has passed his life in the affected region) has never seen in such severity or regularity, especially when June is at hand.  There is no “pattern” to the pattern, in the sense that the late spring pattern of the stalled frontal system—clear morning, thickening clouds with afternoon heating, early evening thunderstorms, then peace by midnight—has not been observed.  No day is quite like the previous one.  The thunder itself sometimes sounds entirely different from the norm.  Certain wave-transmissions, such as the Internet or a satellite television network, are also interrupted sometimes in ways that are unique to this spring.

The relation of subjective observations immediately above is intended as a mere “note” that this brief piece will share; and it is shared, of course, in the full knowledge of being somewhat subjective.  The deepest sense of these notes collectively is perhaps, again, the utter collapse of trust in public figures that they betray.  One wonders even in publishing them in a very general format on the Net, without proper nouns pointing to political personages or parties, if one will be personally targeted, or if the website will be audited by the IRS.  A decade ago, no one would have had such thoughts, or certainly not this author.  Now he writes under a pseudonym and fears for his publisher.

A final comment: if “paranoia” of this healthy order (also known as skepticism when not mauled by propagandists) were to become general and voters were to rise up against the Establishment, we would still come nowhere close to resolving the basic problem.  Were we to force the high-tech “black ops” and their social-engineer facilitators to cease and desist by an electoral cleaning of the house, we still would face malignant designs upon our freedom from unprincipled entities like the PRC.  We cannot defend ourselves from a man-made, Space Age nightmare at this point just by voting in new representatives.  The rain that has fallen in the heartland is already so severe that earthquakes will likely follow in some places (as they already have in Dallas).  The disastrous quake in Nepal last month also occurred after torrential rains, and the evidence is mounting that two such events are often related.

Once mankind has the capacity to dither with his environment to such an extent, an alteration of political ideologies will be insufficient to put nature’s clock back on her own time.  Evil intent may not be needed, at this point, to create a catastrophic outcome.

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I see what you mean. Huis clos. No way out—inescapable doom.”

“All but inescapable. Maybe just escapable, if people would only wake up from their sleepwalking and notice the abyss at their feet.”

“And we want to make a… a story of some kind out of this?”

“I… that was your idea. You’re the raconteur. I don’t want to sugarcoat the pill—but the HAARP program and all that kind of thing… as I told you, it could be deadly.”

“I doubt it, Clew. Honestly, I’m more concerned that your extreme degree of pessimism will be mocked even by our devoted readers. I’m thinking… say, what if we created a story where you—or a character representing you, you know—walked into my office complaining that he had a necessary but frightfully dire piece for publication, and then he and the editor…”


“Well, they talk about how to make it into a story.”

“But that still doesn’t make it into a story, just because they talk about it.”

“Oh, it might. A very postmodern kind of a story—a non-story. The scattered bones of a story’s skeleton. Meta-narrative.”

“Not my bag, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, well, nor mine, either. But… but we’re not really concerned about aesthetics here, are we? We’re concerned about publishing your piece somewhat under that radar, as it were. And as far as that goes, if Homeland Security really is seeking out malcontents with keyword searches like, ‘U.S. representatives are progressive genocidists waiting for a crisis,’ then casting your comments in a fictional form won’t give you a pass. For we’re talking about people who think like machines—or who let the machines do all their thinking.”

“But at least you would have a defense, when and if you actually got a chance to stand before a living, breathing judge.”

“There’re not a whole lot of those, I hear. But… yeah, I take your point. So even at the expense of aesthetics, maybe we can spin your ‘fictive’ visit to my little office as… as the rising wave of a crescendo. So what happens at the end? Come on, now, Clew—this is your story, after all! How does this story end? NSA grabs you up as you exit to the parking lot, and you’re never heard from again? Director of the FBI suddenly appears on my computer screen and wags his finger at us? Chinese premier sends me a birthday card and snarkily writes that the California drought has two more years to run?”

“Seriously, I swear to you before God and heaven, on the night of May 9, I was kept up all night by a thunderstorm the like of which I haven’t experienced in my fifty years in this state. The thunder even sounded different. It didn’t crackle—it just thudded heavily. And it continued all night without moving nearer or farther. For hours, it was completely stationary. That was not a purely natural storm.”

“Climate change, huh?”

“Climate change of a sort that no one has talked about or will dare talk about. Weather change, more accurately—produced by this incredibly hubristic ping-pong match that our jailers are playing back and forth across the planet’s stratosphere with their high-tech toys.”

“So… and you say that torrential rains can produce earthquakes?”

“That theory is being increasingly validated.”

“So maybe the story could end with a terrific earthquake. Just as we reach a decision about what to do with your bombshell.”

At just that moment, there was a terrific earthquake. The ceiling fell in, and Dillon and Makarios perished in a shower of massive joists and beams. The unendurably pessimistic warning in Dillon’s essay never reached the dull ears of an ignorant public; but the loss was of little real consequence, for the earth’s entire human population—along with all terrestrial life forms—would likewise perish twenty-nine years later, when the superpower ping-pong match of ELF waves caused the planet’s magnetic field to reverse itself and the leave the globe’s surface fully exposed to solar radiation for about a month. After that, things settled down.

Mr. Davies, a semi-retired academic in the North Georgia area who knows where all the ivory tower’s dirtiest cracks are, “parasitized” a serious article by this journal’s editor (with his permission) in order to… to whistle in the graveyard, perhaps.  Who can blame him?


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