Preface to the book Fabian Freeway.

Foreword

      The American people have been and are complacently unfamiliar with Communism’s helpmate, Fabian Socialism. For over fifty years but especially since the middle nineteen-thirties there have been insinuated into high places in our government at Washington men whose collaboration in this socialistic movement has been greatly responsible for breaking down our constitutional form of government and substituting therefor the Socialist idea of centralized government.

     Every loyal American should read this book. It is well documented, and proves beyond doubt that those who have wielded such vast influence upon successive Presidents, especially since Franklin Roosevelt, do not have a desire to retain the freedom of the individual and the free enterprise system, but rather seek to establish the very coercion from which our forefathers fled. The reader will be shocked when he comprehends that there are those in high places in government who are dedicated to this Socialist movement. The ultimate objective of the Fabian Socialist movement is no different than the ultimate objective of the Communist movement….

     To those who have an inquiring mind, and to those who wish to understand the tragedy of abandoning our form of government under which we prospered and under which our people have freedoms never enjoyed before in the history of the world, this book is a “must.” It will enlighten the American people, and it is hoped that a reaction will set in demanding that the Walter Lippmanns, the Schlesingers, the Rostows and a vast number of others disclosed in the book as Fabians, be exposed for what they are so that their influence on government will terminate.

     The author has rendered a great public service. Whether you agree or disagree with the conclusions or the philosophies enunciated herein, you cannot close your eyes to the documentation of the progress of this evil movement.

                                        Loyd Wright

 

 

Everything Has a Beginning . . .

     Everything has a beginning. This book tells how the Fabian Socialist movement, which exists under many names in many places, began and grew in Britain; and how, under the guise of an innocent-looking reform movement, it became a ruling force in the United States as well.

     Started by a small group of middle class revolutionaries in nineteenth century England, its respectable influence now pervades the English-speaking world which is still largely unaware such a movement exists.

     In Britain its present-day leaders control the Parliament and the Ministries, in the name of the Labour Party.

     In the United States, where its identity has been even more carefully concealed and where its practitioners are usually known as liberals rather than Socialists, it has very nearly succeeded in reversing that movement of national independence which began in 1776.

     Originally advancing with the slow but steady gait of a tortoise on a country road, Fabian Socialism has now adapted itself comfortably to a high speed age and attempts to lead the Free World with unprecedented velocity towards a financial, military and moral breakdown, of which World Communism is the only logical beneficiary.

     Still carefully restricted in size and as shy of inspection as the keepers of the Soviet missile sites, the parent Fabian Society of London is today what it has always been: a revolutionary secret society, behind a beguiling false front of benevolence and learning. One of the traits of a secret society is that a handful of its officers and publicists may be known, while the majority of its followers remain as hidden as its operations.

     Let no one tell you the Fabian Society has faded or is only a pale relic of a bygone day. Let no one tell you it is mild, gentle or harmless. Here is the evidence that it has neither declined nor passed away, even if it sometimes chooses to play dead.

     It is not that the Fabian Society is dead, but that our own world is threatened with death. Nearly all the conditions necessary for such demise have been set up, including the barefaced announcement that God is “dead.”

     In spite of outward semblances of prosperity and freedom, the America we have known and think we still possess lies gasping—its constitutional separation of powers blurred; its wealth expended in the vain hope of nourishing a largely hostile world; its military security endangered by invisible civilian planners and irresponsible brokers of disarmament; its union, which was its strength, crumbled into a powder of racial minorities and special interest groups.

     Altogether this no longer spells creeping Socialism but onrushing Socialism, of which Communism [or totalitarianism] is merely the final stage. Incredible? Not to those who have kept their eyes open and their senses alert, instead of being anesthetized by slogans or lulled by promises of perpetual affluence.

     If the tortoise was once an appropriate symbol, a speedier and deadlier device would be suitable for today’s faster moving Fabian Socialism, effective leader of the Socialist International. And if the turtle’s obscure trail once seemed the proper path, the multi-lane highway or freeway is the avenue today.

     Indeed, executive-type socialist errand-boys, diplomats and hatchet men in a hurry, range modern America’s freeways, impatiently carrying out the schemes of unseen Fabian master planners, redeveloping American cities, reorganizing local governments along regional lines, keeping the farmer relatively happy despite the trend towards a collectivized agriculture. So instead of the tortoise and its tortuous trail, we have the fast car and the freeway.

     How did all this come about? To understand, we must go back to New York’s Turtle Bay of the nineteen-twenties and then back a greater number of years to a certain modest parlor in one of London’s less fashionable streets, where a few brash young people met on a certain evening to plan a New Life—and then we must follow through from there!

                                   Rose L. Martin

                                   Los Angeles, 1966

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