Games of State - Tom Clancy [39]
"Tell me what you know about WHOA," Rodgers said.
"They're big time," said McCaskey. "They have a couple of paramilitary training camps in the Southeast, Southwest, and Northwest. They offer everything from make-your-own-bullet classes to afterschool activities for the tykes. They publish a slick magazine called Pührer, spelled like Führer, which actually has news bureaus and ad sales offices in New York, L.A., and Chicago, and they sponsor a successful rock band called AWED-- All White Electric Dudes."
"They're also on-line," Rodgers said.
"I know." McCaskey asked, "Since when do you surf the net?"
"I don't," Rodgers said, "but Charlie Squires' kid does. He picked up a hate game about blacks getting lynched."
"Shit."
"That's how I felt," Rodgers said. "Tell me what you know."
"Funny you should ask," said McCaskey. "I was just talking to a German friend in the Office for the Protection of the Constitution in Düsseldorf. They're all worried about Chaos Days, when all the neo-Nazis over there gather-- the closeted ones in the open and the open ones in hiding, if you follow."
"I'm not sure I do."
McCaskey said, "Since neo-Nazism is illegal, admitted Hitlerites can't hold gatherings in public. They meet in barns or woods or old factories. The ones who pose as mere political activists, even though they're advocating Nazi-like doctrine, are able to meet in public."
"Got it," Rodgers said. "But why aren't the admitted Hitlerites under surveillance?"
"They are," said McCaskey, "when the government can find them. And even when they are found, some-- there's this guy Richter, for example, who did jail time-- go to court, claim harassment, and have to be left alone. Public sentiment against skinheads is high, but they feel that articulate, clean-cut jerks like Richter deserve to be left alone."
"The government can't afford to alienate too many voters."
"That," said McCaskey, "and make the neo-Nazis look like victims. Some of the Hitler wannabes have got sound bites and charisma that'd curl your toes. They play very well with the evening news crowd."
Rodgers didn't like what he was hearing. This media-playing-into-the-hands-of-criminals thing was an old beef of his. Lee Harvey Oswald may have been the last killer to protest his innocence on TV and get blamed in the court of public opinion anyway-- though even that jury didn't come back with a unanimous verdict. There was something about the hangdog face of a suspect and the determined face of a prosecutor that drove the underdog-loving public to the suspect.
"So what about this German friend of yours?" Rodgers asked.
McCaskey said, "The OPC is worried because in addition to Chaos Days, they've got this new phenomenon called the Thule Network. It's a collection of about a hundred mailboxes and bulletin boards which allow neo-Nazi groups and cells to communicate and form alliances. There's no way of tracking the correspondence to its source, so the authorities are helpless to stop it."
"Who or what is Thule?" Rodgers asked.
"It's a place. The legendary northern cradle of European civilization." McCaskey laughed. "When I was a kid, I read a lot of fantasy novels, and a whole bunch of barbarian-type adventure stories were set there. Ursus of Ultima Thule, that sort of thing."
"Manliness and European purity," Rodgers said. "That's an irresistible symbol."
"Yeah," said McCaskey, "though I'd never have believed that a place which seemed so wondrous could come to stand for something so corrupt."
Rodgers asked, "I take it this Thule Network has made inroads to America?"
"Not per se," said McCaskey. "We've got our own homegrown demons. For about two years now, the Feds, the Southern Poverty Law Center in Alabama, and the Simon Wiesenthal Center have been closely monitoring the inroads hate groups have been making on the information highway. The problem is, like in Germany, the bad guys usually obey the law. Plus, they're fully protected by the First Amendment."
"The First Amendment doesn't