As mentioned in the prior post, it appears Glenn Beck has picked up on something yet again that I was commenting on a few months back. A friend of mine posted the pictures shown below and I sent the following out as two emails back on December 1st, 2010. Be sure to see the previous post: 64Years later
Subject: 46 Years Later
Date: December 1, 2010
in 1933, the country was amid a deep depression. Franklin Delano Roosevelt was president and the first of many acts constituting the ‘New Deal’ were put into action promising to help the American worker and being one of the first major initiatives of the Progressive movement in US politics.
In the mid 1960’s following the assassination of president John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the new president (former vice president) Lyndon Baines Johnson extended the ideas of Kennedy’s “New Frontier” into a series of vast programs dubbed the ‘Great Society’. These programs included new major spending programs that addressed education, medical care, urban problems, and transportation and promised to further help the working and the poor and constituted the second vast collection of progressive reforms in US politics.
This period of time also saw the enactment of the American Civil Rights Act of 1964 which, as part of the ‘Great Society’ promised to help minorities elevate themselves by removing many prior restrictions upon them so they could seek their own opportunities.
The following are pictures from Detroit, Michigan 77 years after the New Deal and 46 years after the Great Society and the American Civil Rights Act.
A few other links of interest on the subject:
I have also used the following pic on my facebook profile (which is a photoshop special) and included the excerpts that follow from the book Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand on the town of Starnesville, WI:
A few houses still stood within the skeleton of what had once been an industrial town. Everything that could move, had moved away; but some human beings had remained. The empty structures were vertical rubble; they had been eaten, not by time, but by men: boards torn out at random, missing patches of roofs, holes left in gutted cellars. It looked as if blind hands had seized whatever fitted the need of the moment, with no concept of remaining in existence the next morning. The inhabited houses were scattered at random among the ruins; the smoke of their chimneys was the only movement visible in town.
Mistakes of this size are never made innocently. If men fall for some vicious piece of insanity, when they have no way to make it work and no possible reason to explain their choice—it’s because they have a reason that they do not wish to tell. And we weren’t so innocent either, when we voted for that plan at the first meeting. We didn’t do it just because we believed that the drippy old guff they spewed was good. We had another reason, but the guff helped us to hide it from our neighbors and from ourselves. The guff gave us a chance to pass off as virtue something that we’d be ashamed to admit otherwise. There wasn’t a man voting for it who didn’t think that under a setup of this kind he’d muscle in on the profits of the men abler than himself. There wasn’t a man rich and smart enough but that he didn’t think that somebody was richer and smarter, and this plan would give him a share of his better’s wealth and brain. But while he was thinking that he’d get unearned benefits from the men above, he forgot about the men below who’d get unearned benefits, too. He forgot about all his inferiors who’d rush to drain him just as he hoped to drain his superiors. The worker who liked the idea that his need entitled him to a limousine like his boss’s, forgot that every bum and beggar on earth would come howling that their need entitled them to an icebox like his own. That was our real motive when we voted—that was the truth of it—but we didn’t like to think it, so the less we liked it, the louder we yelled about our love for the common good.
Well, we got what we asked for. By the time we saw what it was that we’d asked for, it was too late. We were trapped, with no place to go.
— Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand