Latest news with #Mamelukes
Wall Street Journal
6 days ago
- Politics
- Wall Street Journal
Mamet Misconstrues Military Slavery History
David Mamet's op-ed 'Sorry, Billionaires—There's No Escape' (Aug. 7) establishes that, come the apocalypse, no amount of money will help the ultrarich reach safety because their aides will revolt and take over. To emphasize his point, Mr. Mamet includes a colorful sentence about historical Middle Eastern military slavery: 'The Ottoman Turks raised enslaved Mamelukes to the status first of guards and then of administrators, and all was well until the 'Lukes did the math and realized they didn't need the Turks.'
Hindustan Times
07-08-2025
- Politics
- Hindustan Times
Sorry, Billionaires—There's No Escape
For many years I flew airplanes out of the Santa Monica Airport, 2 miles from my home. I told a fellow pilot that one benefit of the license and the plane was the ability to extract my family from a societal breakdown. He agreed but noted that the difficulty would be the last hundred yards before the airport. Now comes news that American billionaires have prepared compounds in New Zealand in case of apocalypse. Thoughtfully stocked with all that the group would require—air, water, food, entertainment—they stand ready to receive the ultraprivileged. Well and good, but their fantasy, like mine, is flawed. For what is the size of the group for which they foresee transportation, protection and perpetual care? The Ottoman Turks raised enslaved Mamelukes to the status first of guards and then of administrators, and all was well until the 'Lukes did the math and realized they didn't need the Turks. Some of the pilots of the billionaires' getaway planes would surely have families. Happily married pilots would logically insist the families come along for the ride rather than stay and die. The billionaires' wealth would avail them nothing, for they couldn't escape without the pilots or pay a man enough to forfeit his family's life. Yes, the wealthy would have armed guards to ensure their own family got safely on board. Wouldn't the guards insist they and their loved ones go along too? Of course they would. The ground crews servicing the planes would, by this logic, act similarly. If staying behind meant death, what would they risk by demanding their inclusion? What's the rich guy going to do, stop their paycheck? His plane offers the sole escape. There would be a limitation: The plane can only carry so much weight. If overloaded, it won't fly. At some point those on the plane would have to use arms to keep the latecomer hordes off. The guards, then, would realize themselves to be the enlightened Mamelukes. If they are the only ones capable of keeping order, and if money is now useless, they have no need of their employer. On the plane he would be dead weight—and in the New Zealand bunker, just a useless mouth to feed. The caretakers, builders, security guards, and so on, of the compound, would insist on being accommodated—if they hadn't already barricaded themselves in and locked the plutocrats out. The World After Society for which the billionaires are preparing is a world without money. I recall a West Side Manhattan woman, working as a maid. On the way to work her husband called to report they'd just won $100 million in the lottery. She said she'd see him that night after going to work for one last day. In the elevator, however, I'm sure she realized: 'Uh . . .' Is cryptocurrency a scam? Probably, but one wouldn't know unless and until the chain letter runs out. Which is, of course, true of all fiat currency. Of gold, at least, one can say, 'It's right there, you can see it. It's in Fort Knox.' You can't say of crypto: 'It's right there—the 'nothing' is right there.' When the escape plane has reached its weight limit, and at the Dawn of Reason like that of the ex-maid, the first ones thrown out the door would be the billionaire, its former owner, now revealed as ballast. We see a similar devolution of power in an unhealthy family. If the parents are weak—that is, if they don't use parental authority or influence to ensure the happy growth, prosperity, and integrity of the group—their leadership may be usurped by the anxious dependents: the demanding or belligerent child, the hypochondriac aunt, the radical adolescent and so on. The Bible cautions about the oppression of 'a servant when he reigneth.' We see the same capacity for coercion, often, in the family member whose name, in conversation, is prefaced by 'poor.' We all know the stories of adults who went on vacation, leaving the adolescent kids to 'watch the house.' The old British lords of the manor, like today's rich, were exploited not only by their lackeys and suppliers, but by those empowered to guard against such deprivations. The butler got a kickback from the butcher's overcharges, the billionaire's personal shoppers from the merchants of luxury rubbish. Absentee ownership engenders defalcation. James Gordon Bennett Jr. (1841-1918) was wealthy beyond the dreams of avarice, alcoholic and eccentric. Although he was seldom on the premises, his Paris home was staffed and run as if he were. The servants were ordered to place a cup of hot milk and a biscuit by his bed, each evening at 11. They did so through years of his absence, in which the milk cooled and no one came for his cookie. We might think they eventually skipped a night or two of pointless waste; but they must have thought otherwise. For to neglect the milk and cookie opened them to betrayal by their fellow servants—as, in fact, did even a poor-willed performance or a facetious expression. That the charade be performed without rolled eyes required suppression even of disloyal thoughts. For the thoughts themselves might be intuited by one's co-workers, and so lead to denunciation. If, however, word came from New York that Bennett was in a coma from which he wouldn't recover, or were sufficiently injured to insure against his return, the Paris staff would instantly devolve into conspiracy. If the master wasn't returning but the money still flowed, the resources devoted to the bedtime snack could be put to the staff's personal use. Two related questions would arise, at their first kitchen conclave—how much they could steal without discovery, and how the thefts would be regulated and apportioned. The kitchen, thus, becomes the Revolutionaries' Jeu de Paume, the loyal Staff forms a Committee of Public Safety, and their Constitution is a thieves' compact. See also the four years of the Biden administration. Mr. Mamet is a playwright, film director and screenwriter.
