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by A Lily Bit April 05, 2025 from ALilyBit Website Also HERE... Information sent by CarlosZ via Email
Sinister Rhizome of Klaus Schwab's 'Young Global Leaders' and their Stealthy Plot to 'Remake Your World'...
Not quite...
As a hub for chit-chat, self-congratulation among the zeitgeist's high priests, and the swankiest schmooze-fest for the filthy rich and powerful, Davos still calls the shots...
But a threat?
The real menace lurks elsewhere:
These fresh-faced fanatics are the ones poised to choke out freedom and grind every last shred of individuality into dust.
Schwab and his cronies aren't fools - they've clocked that flashy, blood-and-iron revolutions from on high fizzle fast.
Sustainable upheaval demands patience, a
relentless drip of irreversible change - like, say, plunking
millions of migrants smack in Europe's heart, flipping the board for
good. That's where the YGLs strut in, the WEF's shiny toys built for
endurance.
That's when Schwab, hot off communism's European swan song, christens the,
No lone genius act, though - this was a remix of a tune he'd danced to himself:
Launched in 1951 by the man himself, it was one of several post-war brainchildren hatched by Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) bigwigs and the CIA's freshly minted spooks.
The gig?
By '92, with the Soviet corpse still warm, Schwab and the WEF had clawed their way into the global elite's inner sanctum, itching to divvy up the world.
Back then, amid the post-Cold War hangover, it barely raised an eyebrow.
The world was too busy popping champagne to clock
the machinations of a then-obscure puppetmaster. Hindsight's a
brutal teacher - we should've seen it coming.
All under 43, all supposedly vetted for dazzling feats or plum gigs, per the WEF's own 40th-anniversary puff piece.
Except that's a slick pile of hogwash.
These are just three names yanked from the GLT alumni roll.
You could swap in,
...all GLT grads...!
Sure, a few, like Blair or Gates,
were teetering on the edge of big-time status by the early '90s, but
they're still just faces in a crowd, not standout stars.
Only Schwab and his selection cronies could spill the full tea.
From the vantage point of someone once courted to
join the Young Global Leaders during my stint at the CIA,
Klaus Schwab's knack for power feels less like a soccer scout
sniffing out raw talent and more like a seasoned spymaster clocking
assets ripe for the game - hungry, pliable, yet unpolished, poised
to peak under his wing.
The CIA prized traits like these too - adaptable
minds, a nose for leverage, a quiet relish for steering chaos, all
wrapped in a shell tough enough to stomach the gray zones.
After all, Orbán and Putin, two OG GLTs, pretend to have flipped the script 30 years later, spitting in the face of everything Schwab's clique stands for.
Fair point, but it misses the twist:
Those two loose cannons might even hint at cracks in the machine - proof the GLTs weren't as tameable as Schwab hoped.
The program hit pause in 2003, rattled by internal WEF squabbles, to rejig the squad for tighter reins.
Then comes 2004:
The award - named for a post-war tycoon with a history fetish - doles out cash for past, present, and future bigwigs.
Schwab, crowned in "present," funnels the loot
into birthing the YGLs, the GLTs' sleeker sequel.
They claim a swelling global chorus backs them, clamoring for slick, all-in-one fixes rooted in a,
We'll peel back that glossy veneer later, but here's the spoiler:
Most of us?
The YGLs operate as a Swiss foundation, cozied up under the Swiss state's wing.
A 14-member board runs the show,
Above them sits a 10-strong executive crew, with
Klaus Schwab as the top dog and Icelandic tycoon
Björgólfur Thor Björgólfsson as
his sidekick.
Who's on the jury? How do they choose? Crickets...
But we do know who handpicked the first YGL batch in 2004.
Back then, they bragged the panel was stacked with "the world's top media titans," which screams one thing:
That stench clings to recent cohorts too.
Who's buying their enlightened, altruistic spiel
now?
Since the migrant crisis, they've ditched neutral
reporting for activist capes, preaching "the cause" to school the
masses. It's the same gospel fueling Schwab and his clique.
The goal?
The WEF's obsessed with bonding these players - friends don't stab each other in the back.
Hence the endless confabs and workshops - like "Globalisation 4.0" - where they hammer out shared plots. It's a lattice of ties, loyalty, and schemes, propping up a New World Order with California Ideology's glossy sheen.
The people, society, the common good they're
sworn to serve? Nowhere in sight...
Who Bankrolls a
Young Global Leader?
It's a fair question, given the lavish sprawl of
the WEF's pet project. Despite the polished PR painting them as
selfless do-gooders, the YGLs aren't some charity doling out their
brilliance for free.
But where's the cash flowing from?
What are they peddling?
Billionaires fork over fortunes for the real prize:
Put it bluntly:
That lucre fuels the ideological brain-scrub, priming the YGLs to ram through the Great Reset per Schwab's playbook. It's a financial hamster wheel - near-genius in its churn.
How well's it working for the ultra-rich?
And who reaped the rewards?
The YGLs, as a machine and as players, are the spawn of this shift - foot soldiers for a gilded clique that's already cashed out democracy.
Economic theory's got the memo:
How to Think
Like A Young Global Leader?
At first glance, it's a yawn-fest of trite drivel from an outfit that's slapped "save the world" on its letterhead.
No meaty reasoning, no airtight logic - just a vibe that screams,
But squint harder, and the fog lifts:
The "Thinking and Acting" section kicks off with three buzzwords - "Inspire," "Connect," "Transform" - each paired with a bite-sized blurb.
Under "Inspire," we get:
"Force for good" - a phrase dangling there, undefined, like a motivational poster in a dentist's office.
That's a problem.
Folk wisdom's got it right:
So when someone plants an vague "good" as their political North Star, law gets kicked to the curb.
History's a grim teacher here - gulags,
concentration camps, every flavor of hellhole rose under banners of
fuzzy "goodness." Even Google ditched "Don't be evil" when it dawned
on them - shocker - that it greenlit abuse.
For a crew styling itself as the world's next overlords, dodging that debate's a glaring red flag.
Aristotle's been wrestling with this for 2,000
years - Plato's philosopher-kings faced tougher vetting than this
lot. Yet the YGLs coast by on mushy bumper-sticker slogans.
Same old song - stunning banality meets sly omission.
Teamwork saves the world - who knew?
Vague ideals like these are catnip for control freaks; they bend to whoever's loudest.
Political theory's got a term for it: empty
signifiers - pretty shells for stuffing with agendas. The YGLs don't
define it because they don't have to - yet. For now, it's a blank
check, and they're the ones cashing it.
This is a middle finger to measured, rational problem-solving - start a change, watch the fallout, tweak as needed.
Real life's messy; theory hits reality and sparks fly.
Sure, societies shift. It's organic, slow, like a living thing.
A sane democracy rides that wave, adapting.
Force it - like today's gender-reeducation camps - and you're begging for a nanny state at best, a totalitarian chokehold at worst, micromanaging your every breath.
By dictating and shaping fresh perspectives, they
shove entire communities - and the people stuck in them - into a
pressure cooker, forced to scramble and conform to the new normal.
That's the YGL game:
YGL Principles
Take "Generosity":
It's a word salad that could mean anything or
nothing - basic human decency tarted up as a revelation.
The clincher - "We strain every sinew" - reeks of that backhanded zinger from a job review:
Ouch...
Again, what's with these clowns slapping
fortune-cookie wisdom on a pedestal?
It's a neon sign blinking: these folks might be
hollow husks under the polish.
Up to now, it's been all fluffy drivel - here,
they toss in a dash of mockery.
Respectful dialogue? More like a middle finger.
The rest - keeping promises, transparency, accountability - is straight out of Kindergarten 101 or a merchant's handbook. For a $300-million-a-year outfit, touting this as profound suggests they're strangers to duty or honor.
What's left to deduce? Maybe this "elite" can't
spell "integrity" without a cheat sheet.
Here, the YGLs swan-dive into cult-ville -
warrior monks crusading for a "higher cause," not God, but their own
ideology.
And that bit about smashing barriers "stalling progress elsewhere"?
Ties to home, nation, faith?
Having fun?
This isn't one war cry - it's two.
Why?
That endgame, paired with the WEF's clout, crowns the YGLs a top-tier menace - maybe the menace - of this brave new dystopia.
Their aim is a New World Order, complete with a remolded society and a shiny new human prototype. Time to crack open their ideology, their hand in erecting this grand dystopia, and the playbook driving their hustle.
What we'll find are zealots - bona fide fanatics
- hell-bent on slamming the book shut on history. Not the rosy
liberty-fest Fukuyama dreamed up, mind you. Their endgame crowns
unfreedom king.
Lucky for us, he's a chatterbox, spilling his guts about his grand designs for the planet and its antsy inhabitants.
His big brainchild?
In the old setup, born with the Dutch East India Company in 1602,
Schwab's itching to flip that script.
Picture a shoemaker:
Schwab swears this levels the field, wiping out
harm to any stray soul or clique - a cure-all for every crisis,
present or looming.
Schwab's pick?
He's all in on ramping up the watch - humans, nature, the works - to sniff out crises (pandemics, slumps, floods, trust busts) and snuff them before they spark. Sounds smart, till you blink and see the dystopia ticket punched.
Think Minority Report... Tom Cruise dodging a rap for a crime he hasn't pulled yet...
Too sci-fi?
Next, he's juicing the state's muscle - logical if you're obsessed with safety.
More eyes need a beefier fist, cue centralism: faster calls, more clout.
Sensible, right? Democracies dawdle, especially federated ones. But the fix isn't a power grab - it's reform, not a slide into global totalitarianism.
Centralism breeds a cloistered elite, drifting from the rabble - a trend ripping through the West by the 2020s, loudest where GLTs and YGLs like Macron, Trudeau, or Merkel.
Schwab's not dreaming of freedom - he's forging
chains, and his YGLs are the smiths.
The COVID measures were a twisted peak - her
handpicked expert council cooked up liberty-crushing edicts, leaving
state premiers to nod like bobbleheads.
In the COVID-fied central state, citizens' and human rights weren't sacred - they're dangled as rewards for toeing the line.
Don't kid yourself that spring 2020 was a fluke:
That's why the politico-media machine clings to the COVID-as-21st-century-plague myth with rabid desperation, facts be damned - it's laying tracks for permanent freedom grabs down the line.
Speaking of which, Schwab's third crisis-killer
is torching property and ownership rights.
Flip that:
In his utopia, every breath - mobility, consumption, shower time - hangs on the state's whim.
China's playbook shows the stakes:
WeChat's their everything app; privacy's a joke,
but ease wins.
It's a slap to anyone who scraped together a modest nest egg, a state stooping to the moral gutter of billing families for execution bullets.
Erich Kästner's quip fits:
Yet Schwab demands it:
That WEF zinger - "You'll own nothing and be happy" - isn't a promise:
How to Be A YGL
It's a Frankenstein stitch-up of two creeds once thought oil and water: the freewheeling hippie soul fused with the yuppie's cutthroat hustle. Sounds bonkers, sure, but peek closer, and it clicks.
These camps aren't just kissing cousins - they're
a tag team.
Toss in their woo-woo "better world" blather, often veering into crystal-gazing territory, and it's a cinch to peg the YGLs as kin to California Ideology's poster boys:
It's not just their jargon that ties these New World Order factions together:
The gaps between the "pure" California gospel and the YGLs' spin are razor-thin on the big-ticket issues.
What binds them?
A shared hit list:
The YGLs are translating this human-hating gospel into cold, hard policy.
Both crews push identity politics that snip ties to home, culture, and kin, swapping them for shiny, sex-obsessed labels. Under the "save the planet" banner, they peddle economics primed to tank societies and cleave them into haves and have-nots.
And they cheer border-busting mass migration, a
powder keg for chaos - think civil strife or worse.
Utopia for them; a nightmare for the rest.
Stripped of moorings, most folks in this YGL-California
scheme end up as livestock, propping up the New World Order's
machinery - raw material for the elite's social tinkering and
breeding experiments.
Too much?
The YGLs and their ilk double as both secular barons and high priests of a sham faith, hell-bent on herding the masses into California Ideology's righteous fold.
They trot out fresh doomsday tales to scare the "sinners" straight - no milk-and-honey heaven or 72 virgins here, just the grim prize of bare survival.
Backing their cosmic blackmail are hardball
policies from this new nobility, ramming their dogma home, no matter
the body count. The unwashed many are fodder for the whims of the
privileged few, defenseless and dwindling.
The COVID protests laid it bare:
His damning verdict on state thuggery - and the
government's deaf ear after - flips the script: the cop's gone from
"friend and helper" of the people to the regime's hired muscle.
Old-school nobility locked in with their own:
Straying was a lawbreaker's move - social and
personal ruin followed.
Marry her?
Today's digital feudal lords don't need rigid codes:
Sure, romance might ignite these power pairings, but it's a screaming neon sign:
Marriage here isn't just romance; it's power chess.
The Habsburgs nailed it:
War-dodging nuptials are out, but the power angle's evergreen - especially as a new caste mindset digs in.
These insider pairings shore up the clique and steel the wall against the riffraff, laying bricks for dynasties. History's dynastic obsession - Egypt's pharaohs to Europe's kings - always tracked the privileged.
The nameless masses?
Same gig now:
Makes sense:
Cue the elite's anthem for the plebs:
Take that gal flaunting her Boeing 737 romance on public TV's internet circus.
With nothing worth handing down - no culture, no roots - why not love a plane? Inheritance isn't just DNA; it's rituals, identity, meaning. Strip that, and breeding's a shrug.
The overlords make damn sure the underclass stays empty-handed - culture, purpose, all yanked for easier herding. Meanwhile, up in their ivory towers, they marry and multiply.
They've got something to bequeath:
The Third Phase
of Power Transfer
If they nail it, Fukuyama's smug prophecy might just limp across the finish line - history's end, not as a democratic utopia, but as a global capitalism warped into a billionaire-soaked "philanthropic socialism," too armored to crack.
To get our heads around this, we've got to chew
on what "the end of history" even means.
Here's the twist:
History's end isn't its coffin; it's its prize, its north star.
That old-school meaning's faded, so we're planting a flag on it: the YGLs aren't chasing a finale - they're after a locked-in forever-state, a peak nothing tops. Picture western "elections": history's done when "no alternatives" is the air you breathe.
Sure, you'd still "choose" - Coke or Pepsi, red
party or blue - but it's a sham, same shit in different cans.
Untouchable?
It's always been those rogue souls snatching
liberty from power's grip that kicked history's gears. A YGL victory
snaps that chain - done, dusted, finito...
The days of flashy grabs for global dominion -
legions thundering, armadas slicing seas - are kaput. Conquest's
out; infiltration's in. That's the game unfurling in the 2020s, a
creeping rot gnawing at the globe, with the West as its juiciest
prize.
And who's swinging the mallet?
No shocker there - this isn't some vanilla
training gig for system cogs; it's the crucible spitting out the
NWO's elite vanguard.
From nursery tots to corporate penthouses, no
layer's spared. The assault's a swarm - orgs, institutions, outfits
galore, all swearing fealty to the "better world" grail. They're the
nodes in a web, a sprawling snare now draping the earth like a
shroud.
The Atlantik-Brücke's a kin spirit - a Berlin-based think tank and elite mingle-zone, skewing toward,
Sigmar Gabriel's chaired it since 2019,
stepping in for Friedrich Merz - next chancellor of Germany.
Their stint's a weeklong blitz, not the YGLs' six-year marathon, but the vibe's a match.
Then there's Gavi, the Gates-funded vaccine juggernaut, a shadow puppeteer over the WHO, tasked with the NWO's medical leash - its African sterilization scandals under "vaccination" banners a grim badge of infamy.
Meanwhile, faux rights crusaders like Black
Lives Matter torch old bonds, stoking urban war zones under an
anti-racism flag, co-founder Alicia Garza a YGL feather in
its cap.
Their alumni,
...dot every power perch worldwide.
This isn't a seminar; it's a forge, honing ideologically pure operatives with the craft to ram the YGL agenda home. They're not just players - they're the nexus, fed dogma, cash, and connections from the sprawling org-machine.
It's a B-movie spy flick gone live - early 2020s reality, no conspiracy yarn needed.
This is strategy, cold and long-haul, for the
throne of power. Sneer "conspiracy theory" all you like; it's no
whisper in the dark - it's a blueprint in plain sight.
Why reinvent the wheel when the old playbook's a winner?
Culture's the real prize - Antonio Gramsci, Italian Marxist scribbler, nailed it:
You boss the enemy groups you'd crush with guns, but you lead your allies.
Gramsci's "cultural hegemony" is a slow poison - once it's yours, political power drops like overripe fruit.
Bonn's saga proves it:
It started post-war, unplanned - Western thinkers like Adorno and Horkheimer, reeling from the Holocaust and Hiroshima, tore into the "enlightened" West's guts.
Fair game:
Frankfurt's "Critical Theory" crew - Adorno's "poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric" a German mantra - held up a mirror: enlightenment stalled at cold tools, not wisdom.
Hygiene obsessions morphed into racial purges;
physics birthed the A-bomb. No secret handshake sparked '68 - just a
snowball: a few profs mentored a few disciples, who bred more, until
a generation later, it's a movement swallowing society, ready to
claw at power.
The '68ers' noble "why'd this happen?" drowned in
a shallow remix - same instrumental rut, new paint. Arendt's
Nazi-Stalin parallels fit this mess like a glove, but don't tell the
YGLs - they're too busy marching.
The thread runs clear:
Case in point:
No wonder the YGLs, global elite wannabes, crib
the same power-snatch playbook as their ideological granddaddies -
just with sharper edges, lessons learned.
The YGLs? They're the fix:
Ex-KGB defector Viktor Suvorov spilled the Soviet beans post-'78:
Add opinion-shapers - scribes, artists,
activists, NGOs - and you've got the mix.
The YGLs' A-listers - Merkel, Trudeau, Macron - seem to buck the "second-tier" rule, but they weren't headliners when tapped. Plus, 40 years on, spy games have leveled up - trickier, slicker, deadlier.
Westerners, meanwhile, can't fathom a peaceful
hostile takeover - ironic, given Günter Guillaume's Stasi
sting or the SED's cash flood to buy West Germany's left. Power
politics 101, yet media tags it "conspiracy" when non-state
globalists like the WEF flex the same muscle.
The YGLs spearhead this creeping coup - tailor-made to burrow in, relentless and sly.
They funnel insider dope - power, know-how, cash - straight to the WEF's brain trust, while their ideological boot camp grads warp home turf politics, year by year, layer by layer.
We're watching history's boldest infiltration
gambit unfold, live and unscripted...!
Picture it:
It's a living, sprawling beast, swelling in clout
and muscle year by year, a Klaus Schwab brainchild with roots in old
playbooks.
Forget the classic revolutionary org chart - head honcho, lieutenants, grunts.
That's not the YGL game...
That's the metaphor two French brainiacs, Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, cooked up in the '60s and '70s - thinkers who've faded from the spotlight but left a hell of a mark.
Their big idea?
Gardeners know:
They stretch the rhizome beyond plants, into beasts - think "pack," a frayed take on a herd.
Even the pack's lair's a rhizome - tunnels looping wild, every hole a bed, a diner, an ambush hatch.
The YGLs?
But Deleuze and Guattari go deeper:
Old Europe's wisdom tree - deep roots, sturdy trunk, sun-kissed fruit - ran on logic:
Not this. The rhizome's a dark, sprawling snarl -
no base, no order, no blooms - just unchecked growth, ducking
logic's leash.
Point out the snag (describing the "undescribable"
is a contradiction)? They don't flinch - it just keeps spreading,
gobbling space, power, resources.
Paths, beds, lawns?
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