2014 Year of the Horse Page 2

  “New Understanding Offers Hope.

  APW Newsletter Winter 2002.

  The definition of poverty is having $1.25 or less to live on a day and this is the fate of millions unless we can effect meaningful change. CEO Wesley Smithson has identified two key constraints preventing us from addressing these issues. He argues that while people continue to view the global economy in terms of a pyramid we will fail despite our best endeavours.

  He calls this the Pyramid Constraint because the pyramid shape blinkers us all. Whenever anyone talks about wealth redistribution we fear that it will disadvantage us. We see ourselves, our families, friends and communities, trapped in a churning whirlpool sucking us down.

  Wesley Smithson refutes this. He holds to the doctrine of abundance and believes that the world has enough resources for the basic needs of every one of its citizens. He challenges us to see things differently.

  His inspiration is the diamond; a simple, elegant and multifaceted shape. Picture the wide girdle. It represents those living in comfortable, sustainable, self-sufficiency, the middle class so to speak. Each facet represents a region and no region has more poverty or wealth than any other. In this model there are less people below the poverty line and less at the very top. There is no whirlpool effect here, it’s an upward movement and the only downward one will have no effect on the lifestyle of the uber-rich. It is our CEO’s belief that actively narrowing the gap between very rich and the very poor will minimise his second constraint.

  The WAG Constraint - war and greed. Take this grim statistic. The UN aid target is set at 0.7% of GDP. Few countries meet this target which is frequently infinitesimal compared with their military budgets. This is a staggering crime of neglect for which future generations will pay dearly and our CEO …”

  CHAPTER 3

  With their ideas defined, Wesley used every opportunity to tell others. His listeners found it easy to trust him and were carried along by his fervour and his visionary ideas. In the heady excitement of the moment it was enough to believe in him, to know that together they stood at the forefront of progress. With Wesley leading and Brady encouraging, they felt as if they were in a small cutter driven along by a divine wind.

  Carefully they chose an inner circle from amongst their growing support base. The people selected were influential, committed and wealthy. Similarly gripped by a sense of urgency, a sense that time was running out, they believed they were living in the last days. It was perfect timing. The Chosen Way was launched without fanfare.

  The majority who heard Wesley, theoretically approved the idea that global wealth needed to be redistributed but gave little more than lipservice to the tenet that basic human rights applied equally to the poorest peasant in central Africa or India as to the richest billionaire in America or Europe. They recognised that redistribution was unlikely to happen while powerful lobby groups and regional governments protected their own interests but they felt no urgency to change the status quo. A minority realised that Wesley’s message contained a radical edge; a revolutionary call which would turn the global markets upside down. His message rang true and captured their imagination. Brady drew them in and many found their niche in the new movement. None-the-less, the establishment derided his ideas, labelling him a hopeless idealist, an impossible dreamer and discounted his influence. Some stuck labels on him calling him a socialist, or worse a neo-communist. He hid his anger at their arrogant blindness, countering their attacks in a reasonable and rational tone as if batting at an annoying insect and quoted the Bishop of Corum.

  ‘When I give food to the poor, they call me a saint. When I ask why the poor have no food, they call me a communist.’

  “One size doesn’t fit all,” Brady reminded him when listeners failed to catch his enthusiasm but Wesley would shake his head clenching his jaw muscles with determination. He’d inherited his mother’s Quaker values. His heart ached desperately for the multitude of hopeless souls, his neighbours in a world which seemed to be shrinking rapidly. What happened in one place was no longer isolated and contained but like a virus it spread. As he meditated on these things, he believed he heard God speak to him. Wesley was convinced that like the disciple Andrew, he was following his Lord’s voice. While he wrestled to understand what his higher calling meant, Brady distilled his ever more radical ideas into actions.

  “New Goals For World Charity.

  Newsweek March 2003

  One of America’s leading aid organisations APW, ‘Alleviating Poverty Worldwide’, has recently announced a change in direction. 2003 will see it rebranded as ESAP, ‘Economic Solutions Alleviating Poverty’. According to its CEO Wesley Smithson, it will concentrate its resources on some of the poorest nations in the world, and its programs on achieving the UN Millennium Goals. It will cooperate with nationals in selected African countries to improve GDP and to facilitate self-determination for their people. This, Mr Smithson declared, is in direct contrast to its current focus as a supplier of emergency relief. All its efforts will now be concentrated on addressing the root causes of poverty and inequality.

  He likened the new projects to building strong and stable foundations.

  “I am confident that we will achieve our goals and bring hope and autonomy to millions currently living in poverty’s shadow,” he said.

  Brady Ambler has been appointed Strategic Director with overall responsibility for its implementation….”

  CHAPTER 4

  Brady was pleased at the way Wesley had played into his hands. Yes, he admitted to himself, it was probably a good thing that he was not the CEO after all. It suited him to be SIC. Let Wesley focus on the larger picture, as long as he was left to work on his own. He’d encouraged Wesley to delegate, suggesting that all those nitty-gritty tasks were somehow below him and thankfully the inner circle had supported him. They’d made it clear that Wesley needed to focus purely on outcomes and inspire them all with his leadership. Neither Wesley nor any of the inner circle, thought Brady complacently, realised that he had a somewhat different agenda.

  With a new name he had even more opportunities before him. APW had many offshoots, each a potential springboard. Donors often failed to realise that they were supporting one organisation and only the most determined researchers ever traced the network of links connecting them to each other.

  These offshoots all adhered to the traditional tenets of welfare and good works. They operated independently within a region and culture, becoming closely identified with a specific need from amongst a myriad of equally desperate causes. Each offshoot focussed its activities and structure to suit the people it served and APW was thus able to widen its support networks, appealing to different interests and agendas, accessing niche funds and extending its influence. Brady quietly exploited these organisations to build support for The Chosen Way.

  Wesley toured the third world. At each project and program he identified leaders who were looking for radical answers to the overwhelming need they grappled to meet every day. Inspired by his persuasive charisma many believed his promises and committed themselves to his dream. Thus each cell started life with one leader. This Cell Master was trained and directed by Brady and it was his or her role to recruit Defenders from amongst their spheres of influence.

  Each cell was small, no more than six Defenders. When the full complement was committed to the cell and each other the leader started afresh. Most of those invited to become Defenders saw the choices before them with brutal clarity. As they participated in auxiliary programs they were trained and educated and insidiously turned. Their hope for a better life was nurtured and encouraged, but it remained tantalisingly beyond them until they took that final step. Once fully committed and inducted into a cell, their escape from poverty and oppression was assured or so it seemed but they would never be completely free. Dazzled by the opportunities on offer they rarely noticed.

  CHAPTER 5

  Frank Thompson still couldn’t quite believe it. Wesley Smithson had invited him, Frank, to
become involved in ESAP’s new top secret venture.

  Frank and his volunteer helpers had feared the worst when they’d been informed that ESAP’s CEO intended to visit Bogotá on a fact-finding mission. It was so unexpected that despite the official reasons given, they convinced themselves that ESAP was planned to cut their funding. It was their greatest fear, for without American donations they would be unable to continue their essential programs.

  He had arrived in Colombia as a volunteer to work with orphaned and homeless kids and he never left. In Bogotá, that brash, pulsing, vibrant, chaotic city he found his raison d’être and when his term expired he stayed on, for he could see the small differences he’d made; small in the eyes of the world but utterly life-changing for those he’d helped. He was seduced by their appreciation and respect. It gave his life purpose.

  Now he was determined not to give up without a fight and prepared a full program for Wesley’s visit. He escorted his visitor around the city, explained their programs and the economic and cultural influences which affected their work. With each passing hour he had lost his fears and gained in confidence for it quickly became obvious that Wesley was impressed both by their dedication and their results. ESAP was not going to desert the work of AOL (Americans Offering Life) in Bogotá.

  Naturally Wesley spoke about his new projects in Africa and explained his theories and vision and Frank found himself captivated by his guest’s passion and charisma. In Wesley’s company he felt revitalised, energised and inspired. He’d tried to communicate this but still he’d been unprepared when those magnetic blue eyes had locked with his.

  “Do you believe in our struggle for a more equal society?” Wesley had asked. Frank nodded vigorously. Wesley continued, “Are you willing to do anything necessary to see this come about?” Again Frank nodded. Wesley smiled and Frank felt warm approval wash over him. He was held by those compelling eyes. “Would you like to be part of our pilot program and work to eliminate the gap between rich and poor? Take a moment to think before you answer.”

  Frank found his voice and said clearly “I don’t need to think about it. I’d willingly spend my whole life to see poverty eliminated, so my answer is a resounding yes.”

  “Frank, you’ve no idea how good it feels to hear you say that. Not everyone has the courage to commit themselves so wholeheartedly. We would be real privileged, if you chose to join with us.

  “One thing, I must ask that you keep this to yourself for the time being. It’s vitally important that we get things established and proven before we spread the word. Not everything we are trying will work and it protects those like you who get involved. Should a project fail, your reputation will not be destroyed.” Frank nodded his agreement. “I’ll arrange for Brady Ambler to visit Bogotá in the next couple of weeks and explain the details to you. He’s a great details man and I trust him completely. You’ll report directly to him. Are you happy with these arrangements?” Awestruck Frank could only nod.

  “Rest assured that your work here in Bogotá will continue and that we will endeavour to increase your funding. You have a huge need and I can see that you allocate your limited resources both carefully and wisely. I am most impressed with what you have achieved. Well done my friend. With hard work, dedication and persuasion, we will change the way the world treats its poor and marginalised peoples.”

  Just under two weeks later, Brady checked into The Charleston in the heart of Bogotá’s business district. The Hotel shuttle was waiting when he landed. It carried him in smooth, air-conditioned comfort into the centre of the city. He’d booked a Junior Suite and as he looked about him he was pleased with his choice. The facilities reflected the hotel’s five star rating and he knew he would be comfortable here encircled by the privacy and luxury he craved. It was worth every dollar. It was a shame, he thought, that he could not meet Frank in one of The Charleston’s elegant conference rooms but he’d had done his research and he knew that Frank had no time for extravagance.

  Brady would give him what he expected. He had booked a conference room in a two star hotel close to Frank’s office. Brady knew that appearances were important and while he was recruiting he needed to make the right impression, let Frank think that he shared his frugal ways.

  The next morning he dressed carefully in new Wal-Mart jeans, open-neck T, and dark sneakers. He looked at his image in the mirror with distaste. A middle-class nobody stared back at him, gone was the smart executive look he normally cultivated. At least the clothes were new but still they looked cheap. He took off his watch and picked up a battered canvas satchel containing cheap biro pens and a writing pad made from recycled paper. “I wouldn’t buy a used car from you,” he sneered at his image.

  Outside, he flagged down a taxi and arrived at Hotel Parks half an hour before the meeting was due to start. The building was somewhat forbidding. An austere façade faced the street and the lobby was cramped. He blended in perfectly and made his way to the front desk. The manager wore a permanent frown and looked harassed. His jacket was shiny at the elbows and needed a spruce-up. Brady’s nostrils flared with distaste as he breathed in the stale smell of boiled vegetables, cigarette smoke and years of slipshod cleaning.

  The meeting room was basic but adequate and, Brady thought cynically, the threadbare carpet would reassure Frank that money was not being frittered needlessly. He shut the door and switched on the ancient air conditioner. It rattled noisily into life and he held his hand under it for a few moments. Instead of cool refreshing air it pumped out warmth. His finger stabbed the off switch viciously. Reluctantly the rattle subsided. He glared at the grill. No air had been pumped through it for a long time for it was covered in fine spider silk. A knock interrupted his grim fixation on the offending unit. Frank had arrived. He masked his irritation with a bright smile and opened the door.

  Brady was confident that he knew how to secure Frank’s involvement. He had no doubt that the man would be a useful agent for he was dedicated, driven and honest. In Brady’s experience, honest men were easy to hoodwink. They took things at face value and their honesty attracted others. The locals respected Frank and his charity work produced results. Wesley had the right instinct. Frank would make a perfect CM (Cell Master) for The Chosen Way cells which they planned to establish in Bogotá.

  Three days later Brady left Bogotá with Frank’s signed affiliation document in his briefcase. He was satisfied that his investment in discomfort and inconvenience in that down-at-heel hotel had paid off. Frank clearly understood how the cell structure should work. He had not raised any objections to the requirements for absolute secrecy or total obedience. He could see the merits in the autonomous cell structure and the importance of building strong bonds. He had already identified the first likely Defenders and Brady knew he would leave the establishment of cells in good hands.

  Best of all Brady and Frank had found common ground and he would build on that personal relationship over the coming years. It was obvious that Frank worshipped Wesley and would do anything he asked. Yes, Brady told himself as he scratched his arm and then his leg, controlling Frank will be a piece of cake, easier than scratching the itch between his shoulders.

  He’d picked up a flea somewhere. It had probably found him, he mused, the moment he entered the lobby of that dump masquerading as a hotel. He’d woken every morning covered in new bites, as if a whole family of fleas had stowed away and were now making themselves at home in the luxurious bed of his Junior Suite. Bedbugs and fleas seemed to be an unavoidable part of the third world. They made him feel dirty and he determined to ditch his superstore garb in the first clothing bin he passed.

  Frank felt his head would burst. He’d absorbed so much energy from Brady. Now, for the first time in a long while he felt that anything was possible. He considered the children who had passed through his programs. Most kept contact with him long after they found work and continued to offer support and encouragement. There were several he would invite to become a Defender.

  He k
new that many Colombians considered him an affable enigma. His sincerity was not in doubt but many secretly wondered why he bothered. In their minds the poor were always there and it was a thankless battle, one he could never win. Frank knew it was never ending yet it was not thankless. Those he helped never forgot where they’d come from or who had rescued them.

  Amongst his current crop of children there was one who stood out from them all, Fernando Garcia. Fernando was bright and AOL supported his studies at the university but what really set him apart was his single minded determination to succeed. He would make an ideal Defender. There were others too; enough to form several cells. It was an exciting thought and his brain fizzed with elation. Brady had warned him not to get ahead of himself and go too fast.

  “Slow and sure and no regrets. Build a solid foundation and the rest will happen,” he’d said. “We’re thinking long term and don’t want anyone to burn out, especially someone as well-placed and enthusiastic as you.” Frank remembered the warning and was flattered by Brady’s compliments.

  CHAPTER 6

  Despite the frontier culture, the gang loyalties and the drug traffickers Frank felt more at home in Bogotá than in New York or Chicago. Since Wesley and Brady had visited and he’d brought together the first cells Frank had experienced a deeper sense of contentment. He felt as if he had found a loving, warm and caring family, filled with people who shared the same ideals as he did, who worked to achieve the same goals. The passing years did nothing to dim his passion. He was proud to be part of a select number, a cell master, one among many and he believed it when they said that he was living on the cusp of change. It was coming and he had a vital role to play in furthering the cause. He was convinced that he couldn’t have hoped for a better or more inspirational leader than Wesley.