Eaton Fire #2: Lists Listing Lists

Mike Rothschild

I’m an independent journalist and author with an uncertain road ahead. To support my work, please subscribe to my Patreon page, or Venmo me directly, @rothschildmd. Only if you can afford it, of course.

When you think that you’ve lost everything
You find out you can always lose a little more
I’m just going down the road feeling bad
Tryin’ to get to heaven before they close the door

The first thing you do when you find out your house burned down is to start making lists of all the things you’ll need to do next.

Ok, no. That’s nonsense. The first thing you do is suppress the urge to find a hole to get sick in. Based on the stories I’m hearing from folks who also lost their houses in the Eaton Fire, some are more successful than others. Hey, no judgement.

So then, the second thing you do when you find out your house burned down, after the vomiting, is start making lists of all the things you’ll need to do next.

For those who lost their homes in the wildfire plague of California, lists will become the currency of the realm. Notepads and piles of receipts become more valuable than gold. You will make lists on your phone, in your head, on scraps of paper, and in disjoined texts to yourself at three in the morning.

There are things you have to do for the remains of your last house so you stop paying for things you won’t need for a long time. You have to cancel DirecTV, your Stitch Fix subscription, your Amazon subscribe and save. You don’t want to get charged for your air filters and Flonase getting delivered to a burned out husk, after all. You have to call your mortgage company and explain very patiently that no, you don’t have a check from your insurance company to repair the damage to your house because your house doesn’t exist anymore.

Speaking of insurance, you have to start that ball rolling – assuming you’re lucky enough to not have gotten kicked off your homeowners policy. You have to make calls, start files, download pictures, and save everything electronically. They’ll want you to document everything you spend while out of your house, while also documenting everything you had in your house when it burned down so it can be replaced, or at least some version of it can be bought again. Assuming it can. The lists are granular and demand an absurd level of detail so as to make sure you don’t squeeze a few extra pennies.

Salad plates, white, ceramic, x12. Hundred year old brass Shabbat candlesticks, x2. Pushpins, clear, container, x1. Never opened.

You make lists of where you’ve stayed while on the road. Lists of things you’ll need to get at Target to be able to have something resembling clean clothes and some food, assuming they have anything left. Lists of people to thank for their generosity and kindness. Lists of donations. Lists of people to contact who you may or may not get around to. To-do lists for the next day, most of which you won’t get to because you’re strung out and wrung out and bone tired. Lists of lists.

Eventually, we’ll get to lists of things to do for the next house. But that’s so far down the line it’s not even possible to conceptualize it. So we stay in the realm of the immediate, the thing that has to get done today. That’s all any of us can handle.

Of course, there are other lists. I’ve seen multiple lists of businesses burned out of Pasadena and Altadena. Restaurants and shops and bars and people’s life’s work that are gone and might not ever come back. The coffee place where we grabbed horchata con espresso right after the elementary school holiday show. The dry cleaners where I took the suit I had made for my mom’s funeral – a suit that’s now gone. The bar in walking distance where I celebrated my 40th birthday, and where the bartender had seen me on CNN once.

And that’s to say nothing of the businesses burned out from the other fires, which I can’t even wrap my mind around yet. There are the lists of your friends who lost their homes, though in truth it would take less time to list those who hadn’t. There are the lists of the things they lost and the things they took with them. Some are heartwarming – the friends who were out of town but managed to get in touch with a neighbor who saved their cats and Social Security cards before the flames crept in. Others are ludicrous – the good friends who managed to save their house, while packing, among other things, a strapless bra meant for an evening gown. Hey, one day, right?

The lists come at you from every direction. Lists of historic structures, built from materials that aren’t made anymore. A century of American architecture decimated and just waiting to be turned into a vast field of glass and concrete shit boxes. Lists of places you can pick up free food and water, because the water in Altadena has been declared “do not use.” And there are the lists of GoFundMe pages from your friends, your neighbors, your community. You want to give to them all. But you can’t, because you need as much as you can get for yourself at the moment. A bottomless pit of need and despair.

The lists become documentation, not just for insurance purposes, but for remembrance. I’m finding in these first few days that witnessing and remembering is just as important as FEMA applications and itemizing Target receipts. Connecting with friends and going over what they saved, what they need, where they’ve been. Their lists. The list of our collective loss. This is how we even start to come to grips with what’s happened. We do it through writing it down, taking pictures, shooting videos, and leaving as many concrete reminders as we can.

So we make lists. We take notes. We scribble nonsense and send ourselves incomprehensible texts. It’s how we get through these days and do the things we need to do, but it’s also how we pay tribute to what we had and what we lost. Because there is just so goddamn much of it.

This piece will go up Monday, 1/13. We have a list of things to do for the day. Maybe we’ll even get to some of them.

Altadena Will Rebuild.

Eaton Fire #1: The Valiant Smoke Detector

Mike Rothschild1 Comment

The air is getting hotter
There’s a rumbling in the skies
I’ve been wading through the high muddy water.
With the heat rising in my eyes

What do you take when you’re trying to pack your house into your car and have no idea if you’ll be back again? Passports and tax files and the signed photo frame from your wedding, yes. The six bags of avocadoes you picked from the giant tree branch that was torn off int the windstorm earlier that day? Ah, no. The foul ball you caught at the Dodger game? The new LL Bean sweatshirt that you literally just got for Christmas and really liked? The artwork your kids made when they were 4 that were you probably were going to take a picture of and recycle? Hopefully – but probably not.

I saw the glow of the Eaton fire from my porch at 6:30 PM on Tuesday. It was distant, eerie, but not threatening. We had power. The wind was brutal, but our house was 100 years old and sturdy. A few hours later, we decided to be cautious and pack some things. We didn’t think too hard about it, because we weren’t even under an evacuation watch. We were being alarmist.

At 3:25 AM, our phones told us otherwise. We had to go. Now.

Of course, we had no power at that point and the house was freezing. The kids were freaking out. We were freaking out. I got dressed, but spent an inordinate amount of time looking for the right t-shirt, as if I were heading out for a night at the bar. We grabbed flashlights, filled water bottles, and grabbed a few more things. We left far more behind. We headed out into the howling wind, our streetlights dead to the world, and smoke filling our lungs like a bad day on the Western Front. We drove south, my radio still tuned to the SoCal Sound, a relic of another life a few hours ago.

Twelve hours and another evacuation later, we knew house was gone. We had an inkling – a neighbor sent us a screengrab of a KTLA report of their house on fire, with ours in the distance, also burning. Maybe it was just the avocado tree, right? Firefighters were there, so we may have gotten lucky. Around the same time, our smoke detector started sending us alerts, valiantly doing its job to the last, as it probably melted. We told ourselves that the air was a horror show, and just because the alarm was going off didn’t mean our house was necessarily on fire.

It was. Now it’s gone We haven’t seen what’s left of it yet, but neighbors and friends who have snuck back into the area told us, and a few took pictures. We recognized the porch, the coral tree in the front yard, the pavers. Whatever’s left won’t be useful, likely. Today, we started the process of filing an insurance claim, putting our mortgage on pause, and, oddly, cancelling the coffee subscription that sustained us on seemingly endless mornings getting our kids out the door.

We’re safe and far from the fires now. The air is cool and slightly acrid, but nothing close to Altadena, which is still something of a war zone. We’re heading north tomorrow, reduced to refugees in a parade of plug-in hybrids. You always think of people fleeing catastrophe as slow-moving lines of families pushing carts with their meagre belongings, and women wearing babushkas, heading west to avoid rampaging hordes. That’s us now. Except our babushkas burned alongside our avocados, the foul ball from the Dodger game, and the LL Bean sweater.

We aren’t alone in our journey. So many families and friends lost homes that it would be easier to list those who didn’t. Altadena is a tight-knit and quirky community where people come because they want to escape the packed-in constant closeness of LA. It’s affordable, or at least it used to be. Because of the Pasadena area’s long history of segregation, Altadena is where many Black families were able to buy property, and the city is a working-class mix of races and cultures and incomes, all living together in 100 year old cottages and Craftsman bungalows.

Over the last decade, what was once a bit of a wilderness had become a place where younger people and working class families wanted to move, because of the vibe and the green open spaces and the quirky feeling of a place that wasn’t urban, wasn’t suburban, and wasn’t rural. You were five minutes from hiking trails that took you to a waterfall, and a half hour from Dodger Stadium. Nothing like this existed anymore in LA. This wasn’t influencer country or glass and steel box McMansion hell. Celebrities moved into town and nobody knew who they were. Little league teams overran pizza places after games, and the local park drew huge crowds on Sundays for organized soccer games where nobody spoke English. People in Altadena look out for each other, families let their kids walk around the block the way kids used to, we protect the look and historical nature of our houses, and you always run into someone you know when you go out for tacos. It’s a community. A village.

I have no idea if that’s gone for good, but it’s gone for now. It vanished with the fire that I watched grow from a distant glow to a looming inferno to a destroyer of stability. And it’s still going, one of many fires turning Los Angeles into something unrecognizable, driven by a vicious wind that people who lived here for half a century said they’d never experienced. Victims of a planet that increasingly seems to not want anything to do with the fossil fuel and cheap plastic obsessed humans who control it.

Because it’s 2025, there’s been some negativity, conspiracist fearmongering, and brain-rotted lunacy. I’ll get to some of that eventually on this blog. But it’s been vastly outweighed by generosity, mutual aid, good wishes, offers of lodging and financial help, and people reaching out to give whatever they can. The spirit of everyone being in this together that we had in the early days of the last generational trauma we suffered through, the pandemic, is being felt even by people who are not actually in this. It’s incredibly heartening, and I’ll carry it with me right alongside the memories of the stuff we lost, the panicked run from our house, and the confusion and anguish of the next day. It’s bad, but it’s not all bad.

Thank you for going down this road with me as I attempt to document life as a climate change refugee. I can’t commit to any kind of regular schedule, pretense of editing, or coherence. I’ve had eight hours of sleep in two days, so I’m not sure if I’m actually typing words at this point. But I hope to write down what I’m going through, so I remember and so other people can experience something that nobody should ever have to experience. I want to chronicle our adventure, Altadena’s rebirth, and Los Angeles’ future.

And for god’s sake, make sure all your important documents are in the same place.

More to come.

To support my work during this difficult and uncertain time, please subscribe to my Patreon, or you can donate directly to my Venmo, @RothschildMD. Please only give if you can afford to.

Altadena Will Rebuild

January 6th and the Rewriting of Memory

Mike Rothschild

Upon his soldiers discovering the first Nazi concentration camps in western Europe, Supreme Allied Commander Dwight Eisenhower personally toured the sites of the Final Solution. Writing in his memoirs after the war, Eisenhower said he “visited every nook and cranny of the camp because I felt it my duty to be in a position from then on to testify at first hand about these things in case there ever grew up at home the belief or assumption that `the stories of Nazi brutality were just propaganda.’” He would also ask members of the press and Congress to walk the grounds and see what he and his men had seen, so they could show it to the public “in a fashion that would leave no room for cynical doubt.”

As many journalists and observers will write about, today marks four years since the assault on the US Capitol by a mob of Trump supporters determined to overturn the results of the 2020 election – or die trying. And while Eisenhower insisted the camps be documented so that nobody could deny their existence with any credibility, cynical doubt and propaganda are now the currency of the west.

With a few exceptions, Holocaust denial never flourished beyond the fringes of neo-Nazi dead-enders and Hitler worshippers selling pamphlets to each other. But January 6th denial and the rewriting of current events, has shown enormous staying power and mainstream appeal, to the point of being one of the biggest factor’s in Donald Trump’s improbably comeback. The thing that looked to have doomed his political career is now its engine.

The rewriting of history around January 6th has become an industry that denial of the camps could never have become. If you deny that millions of Jews and other “undesirables” were murdered by a methodical Nazi machine, you’re probably not going far in mainstream public life. But if you deny that January 6th was an organized attempt to violently seize total power and nullify an election, you’re probably going to be a superstar in the GOP. You might even get your own podcast.

The American press covered January 6th, its planning, its minute-by-minute execution, and its prolonged aftermath with as much vigor and enthusiasm as maybe any subject since 9/11. But for a certain segment of the population, all of it was a lie. To Trump, his inner circle of acolytes, and his vast (and growing) base, January 6th wasn’t an insurrection, it was a “day of love” meant to show support for the rightful winner of the election. The angry, violent, armed, unhinged mob that breached the Capitol was actually a “sightseeing tour.” The instigators of the insurrection weren’t a loose alliance of racists and anti-government extremists, but actually federal agents directing these peaceful tourists who were just there to express legitimate political differences and their sincere belief that the 2020 election was stolen.

On and on the false history goes, rewritten on the fly by cynical grifters and political hacks. The Capitol Police were the unhinged ones who viciously attacked the meek and humble Trump supporters, while the peaceful patriots caught up in the dragnet are hostages and political prisoners. Nobody was there to hurt anyone except the fed plants and undercover antifa soldiers who turned the day dark. There were no Republican criminals that day, the real criminals are the Soros-funded Trump-hating members of Congress investigating the “attack” to influence the 2024 election. Democrats in Congress weren’t under siege that day, they planned the attack or, at the very least, allowed it to happen. And Donald Trump never told anyone to do anything wrong, and did nothing wrong himself. He even told the “mob” to go home peacefully and that he loved them. Because it was a day of love.

Falsifying history gets easier as events recede and witnesses die off. But falsifying current events takes willpower, commitment, and a vast and relentless drive to tell yourself that the things you saw happen didn’t happen. It doesn’t mean you’re being lied to, like a conspiracy theory requires. It means you’re lying to yourself. Over and over and over. And if we know one thing about devotion to Donald Trump, it’s that self-delusion is a requirement.

Reeling from his loss and his party turning against him in the days after January 6th, Donald Trump decided that the only way to recover from the event was to created an alternative history of it and act as if it were the real one. At first, he was in exile, rambling to a seemingly shrinking audience that he’d won the election, that January 6th was a setup, and that the people who rioted and killed for him were heroes.

The falsified history was that not only did Trump do nothing wrong, but nobody did anything wrong except the Democrats and law enforcement. And he just kept at it, relentlessly, and with no oxygen given to any other narrative.

Of course, it worked. It started working on the same day as the attack, with hundreds of thousands of tweets immediately calling the riot fake, a false flag, and a fed hit job – all based on Trump’s own casting of blame elsewhere. In the months after the insurrection, when ardent Trump acolytes in Congress began shifting blame to mythical FBI plants and antifa infiltrators, it was in full swing.

The Republican history of January 6th, the one clung to by the party that will soon control every branch of the federal government, is that it was a peaceful protest ruined by federal jackboots and outside agitators. And it’s a protest that the American people, much more concerned about the price of eggs and the possibility of being raped by Haitian migrants, don’t care about anymore. Soon it will be swept out of the history books entirely, with Trump pardoning all the “hostages” and going after the investigators who tried to hold him to account

It never happened.

Except, of course, it did happen.

Relatively few people saw the immediate aftermath of the Nazi camps, and virtually none are still with us. Most of us only know of the Nazi horror through the footage taken in the aftermath, the testimony of those who survived, and the blubbering fake repentance of those who did the deeds. But millions of Americans were watching the news and seeing in real time how the American electoral system teetered on the edge.

We all saw it together. Our hearts raced and our jaws dropped and we all asked ourselves and each other “can this really be happening?” Because it was happening. We heard the screams of the Capitol Police officers being torn apart. We saw the blood on the floors and the shit on the office walls. We know it wasn’t a peaceful love fest, but a sacking that would make a Visigoth proud. We know what January 6th was – not a “day of love”, but an organized and well-planned attempt to prevent a presidential election loser from transferring power to a presidential election winner. Even Trump’s most ardent supporters knew what it was. Until they decided otherwise and began lying to themselves.

The more an event is documented, the more effort needs to be put into making us question our memories of the event. And that’s ultimately what J6 denial is about – not even so much rewriting history, but rewriting our memories. Trying to convince us that what we saw wasn’t what we saw, what we experienced wasn’t what we experienced, and our feelings – our horror – weren’t real.

Don’t let Trump and his acolytes rewrite your memories of that awful day. Take them with you, speak of them often, tell those too young or disengaged to have been watching what you saw. Don’t allow them to cynically deny what they did, and never question the depravity and deeply unpatriotic derangement of those who did it.

It remains to be seen whether Trump will pardon those responsible for January 6th. But no matter what their legal outcomes are, we can hold them to account with our memories and witnessing. We must all be the documentarians of the horror of January 6th, and we can never allow ourselves to be convinced that it was anything else than what we saw.

To support my work, please visit my Patreon page. Thank you!

Droning On and On

Mike Rothschild

In 2016, Americans suddenly and somewhat hilariously became terrified of killer clowns. The creepy mirthmakers were spotted in South Carolina luring children into the dark woods, in Green Bay handing out black balloons, skulking around cemeteries in Chicago, randomly knocking on doors, intimidating residents, and approaching young girls in the open. The creepy clowns made their way to the UK, where they intimidated and pulled pranks on people in car parks and streets. One even ran for president.

Four years later, with the world on lockdown, boredom and fear walked hand in hand. That summer, full of tension and dread, people started to notice that every night in big cities, huge numbers of fireworks were going off in the middle of the night. Nerves were rattled and people were frustrated – and scared. Immediately, panic set in that this was a military exercise designed to rob us of our sleep, police activity designed to spur arrests, or even a Trump-ordered test to immunize the population into becoming accustomed to the sound of explosions and artillery.

Cut to 2024, another presidential election year involving Donald Trump. And sure enough, there’s another panic spreading through the plugged-in population over social media: drones. Thousands of drones, all the size of large cars, flying in straight lines and coming out every night (and only at night), hovering over population centers and military bases, and scaring the crap out of us. Is it a false flag to prepare us for alien invasion? A military exercise that Trump will use an excuse for martial law? An attack on American from Iran or China? Proof that nuclear weapons are being trafficked by nefarious forces and the government is desperate to find them? It’s now the Drone Panic of 2024, and it’s spread from news of drones over New Jersey to drones over everywhere.

Taken together, it seems like these three panics prove one of two things: either every presidential election now comes with a deep state engineered panic meant to distract and exhaust us in the face of the oncoming horror, or that Americans are nuts.

Of course, neither of these are the sole explanation. Societal panics are nothing new, and take place all the time fueled by new technology and collective unease. And many Americans, like people of every nationality, are conspiratorial and fueled by fear of what they don’t understand.

In the face of calls for the government to “do something” or “be more transparent” or “shoot them down,” it’s important to realize that what people are pointing out as drones are not actually drones.

They’re airplanes coming in for a landing, stars, planets, satellites, helicopters, optical illusions, deepfakes, hoaxes, and maybe a few commercial drones. They’re the same specks of light that have been in our sky for generations. There might be more of them now, thanks to outfits like Starlink and the revitalizing of commercial aviation post-lockdown. But at any time since the advent of the passenger jet, if you look up at night, you’re going to see something bright and flickering moving across the sky, or maybe appearing to hover, or maybe not moving at all. Isn’t it strange how the “drones” never seem to appear during the day? Or how countless SUV-sized craft are flying around and none have crashed, hit each other, or just stopped working over a busy city? Don’t expect answers from those panicking.

So why did the Great Drone Panic of 2024 happen, and what can we learn from it?

Panics rarely start over things that never happened, they start over isolated incidents that are blown massively out of proportion

In the case of recent past panics, they started with something real that spread over social media because it was equal parts absurd and terrifying. Clowns occasionally go about town in their clown getup, and scare the hell out of people in the process. (Incidentally, if I get a few new Patreon subscribers, I’ll post my own story about being at an event in Los Angeles with a clown that was very much not an event for clowns. It’s wild.) The fireworks panic was the same thing, at first – the nightly fireworks bombardments were real, but there was never any evidence that “the government” or “the cops” were behind them, other than unverifyable social media posts. It turned out that fireworks companies were desperate to unload excess product that wasn’t going to be used for 4th of July shows because of lockdown. No conspiracy required, just one made up to fit the facts.

Drones have become omnipresent, especially in war, but few people know what they really look like

Even just the term “drone” has scary connotations, especially for anyone who watched the Great War on Terror unfold live on cable news every night. It conjures up sinister forces using cryptic orders to fire missiles at weddings, killing you before you even know you’re a target. But drones can be anything – from hobbyist quadcopters to commercial drones delivering packages to lights flying in formation to create a nightly show to military grade missile carriers. Some drones are tiny. Others, like the Shahed 136 drones hammering Ukraine on a nightly basis, are 11 feet long, nearly the length of a compact car. There are over a million of them registered with the FAA, and there’s no doubt that at least a few of the “drones” are actually drones. Because there are so many different types of drones, it’s easy to look at something in the sky and tell ourselves it must be a drone. We don’t have to know what type of drone, or who launched it. It’s a drone. And drones can kill us.

Panic spreads because when we go looking for things, we find them

If you go outside on a cold night with the intention of seeing a drone, you’re probably going to see a drone. Why? Because why would someone go outside to see something and not see it? We like to find the things we’re looking for, and to not be disappointed. We want to be able to tell our friends and social media followers that we saw a drone, not that we saw a plane or a star. Ultimately, “I saw something” is a more compelling – and potentially viral – story than “I didn’t see anything.” That’s boring.

It’s a weird time where not much is happening

Americans have been on a relentless run of breaking news for years, and maybe no year more than 2024. We had stretches where absolutely insane and game-changing things were happening every day, and with Trump’s election, that seems to have calmed down. Yes, his cabinet nominations and goofy lawsuits are news, but they don’t the heady high-wire thrill of assassination attempts or last minute candidate changes. People are a little bit bored at the moment, and when people get bored, conspiracy panics start. When we lack danger and thrill in our lives, we find ways to make them up.

A lack of basic understanding about physics makes us turn the ordinary into the extraordinary

If you’ve ever driven across Los Angeles at night going north from LAX, you’ve seen a line of what look like floating blobs of light just hanging in the air. And because you’re at one of the busiest airports on the planet, you know they’re planes coming in to land, and not UFOs or drones or whatever. But if you’ve never lived near a major airport or flown into a big city at night, you might not be familiar with why descending airplanes look like they’re floating. So when you see it for the first time, your mind assigns meaning and danger to it. For the record, there’s a name for why descending airplanes appear to be floating. It’s an optical illusion called the parallax effect, It’s a difference in how the brain perceives rates of motion when moving, which is why closeup objects look to be moving quickly, while faraway ones look to be moving slowly or stuck. Parallax is a critical depth perception tool, not a deep state conspiracy. It’s basic physics – but a lot less entertaining and alluring than the unevidenced alternatives.

The “I know what I saw” fallacy

So many of the claims of drone sightings ultimately fall into some version of “I saw three lights in the sky forming a triangle. Triangles in the sky are UFOs. Therefore, I saw a UFO. And I know what I saw.” We aren’t interested in other explanations, such as the three lights being the lights on the wings and nose of a plane. We know what we saw. Except most of the time we don’t know what we saw, only that we saw something, and decided we knew what it was. Our brains have a remarkable ability to create stories out of things that didn’t happen, or that we only saw a glimpse of and filled in the rest. Maybe the best example of this is the numerous witnesses to TWA Flight 800 exploding who claimed they saw and then immediately heard a missile hit the plane, despite the laws of physics making this impossible. The people who told the FBI this weren’t lying, they were just convinced they saw something that they could not have experienced. And the more you tell them they’re wrong, the more they believe they’re being called a liar.

We’re just really into conspiracy theories right now

This might be the simplest explanation of them all for why drone panic hit so hard and so fast. Americans, just like all humans, are innately prone to pattern-seeking and making meaning out of randomness. But 2024 has seen the continuation of conspiracism and paranoia creeping into our everyday lives in a way that was never even possible just a few decades ago. Our political leaders and cultural titans spread disinformation the way a knife spreads butter. Even Donald Trump has stoked the drone panic, claiming without any evidence that the government “knows what they are” and telling his followers to shoot them down. Other influencers have claimed, also without evidence, that the drones are part of a desperate attempt to find a nuclear warhead, or a Russian disinfo op, or a secret coup plot. This used to be the stuff of rambling drunks at bars and your weird uncle at Thanksgiving. But it’s everyone now, and it’s everywhere we look. And that now includes the sky at night, once a place of awe and wonder, but now cluttered up with planes and satellites and ever-present low light blotting out the glory of the stars.

So what can we do to abate drone panic? Like all pushback against conspiracy theories, think micro and not macro. Stop sharing random videos that “saw a drone” flying somewhere, because absent other evidence, it’s not a drone. If you go looking for drones, expect not to find them. If you see a blob of light floating in the air, think about airports near you, not motherships and aliens. Get familiar with the stars and planets at night in your area, so you know what they are and are not. They’re pretty cool to look at.

And disabuse yourself of the notion that you are a player in a secret nighttime war between good and evil, being played out through drone swarms and viral panic. Take the opportunity to become acquainted with something bigger than your own life – in this case, the very cosmos that made us. It’s a hell of a lot more breathtaking than panicking over nothing.

Rothschild Central Banks – Syria’s Version

Mike Rothschild

Extraordinary events are almost always catalysts for conspiracy theories – often providing more “acceptable” explanations for something that wasn’t “supposed to happen.”

And what could be more unexpected than the sudden and stunning collapse of the Assad regime in Syria? Rebel forces undid well over 40 years of rule in an offensive that took less than two weeks, and saw the Syrian armed forces collapse and even change sides. Watching it happen live was almost unbelievable, and many people indeed did not believe it. Or at least, they believed a different version of it. And of the many “more acceptable” explanations for what was going on in Syria, a familiar one that took hold early was that Syria was one of the only countries on earth without a “Rothschild Central Bank,” and the cabal finally took action to correct this half-a-century long oversight.

I’ve written extensively about the “Rothschild Central Bank” conspiracy theory, and why it’s incorrect on multiple levels. I spend a great deal of time on it in my book on the Rothschild banking family myth, Jewish Space Lasers.

But the situation in Syria is extraordinarily precarious and complicated. Even with Assad deposed, there’s no guarantee that the country will be able to develop a functional democracy, correct the previous regime’s human rights abuses, or not become a battleground for proxy groups and terrorist spillover.

With so many moving parts, it’s easy to imagine alternative stories emerging about how the Assad collapse was a Jewish plot, perpetrated by Israel and funded by the depravity of the Rothschilds, all to get their claws into yet another nation’s banking system. So with that in mind, here’s why the “Rothschild Central Bank” theory, and in particular its relation to Syria, is false and should be completely ignored.

There are no “Rothschild central banks”

A central bank is, by its very definition, a governmental entity. Central banks control money supply, print money, set interest rates, and manage the financial policy of a nation. And every country has one, other than a few tiny microstates that use the money of larger countries. In the US, we have the Federal Reserve, while the UK has the Bank of England, and so on. The nations of the European Union have individual central banks that are all members of the European Central Bank. Even North Korea has a central bank.

None of these central banks are owned by private investors, and certainly none of them are owned by the Rothschild banking family. Before the era of nationalized central banking, many wealthy banking dynasties owned shares of stock in national banks, including the Bank of England. But that era ended long ago, and for the Rothschilds, it saw a general decline in their wealth and power. Central banks are now owned and operated by their parent governments, not by decrepit tycoons in castles.

Why the Rothschilds in particular are linked to large scale ownership of central banks has a lot to do with their longevity and history. The family once did have business holdings all over the world, and had the ear of royalty and prime ministers. And the myth that Nathan Rothschild made so much money off the Battle of Waterloo that it allowed him to take control of the British money supply started in 1846 and has proven durable enough to fire conspiracism in everyone from French antisemites of the 1890s to Nazi propagandists of the 1940s to Alex Jones today.

But it’s not true, and never has been true. As I write about in Jewish Space Lasers, the myth of the Rothschilds and Waterloo spread decades after the battle, and we know for a fact that the family made little off the outcome of the battle itself – though they did make much of their fortune off loans and gold sales during the Napoleonic Wars.

The list of “Rothschild Central Banks” dates back to a 2012 blog post, and has been repurposed by countless bad actors and cranks, including finding a prominent place in the QAnon conspiracy theory, where it’s eagerly passed around by “truth seekers” who don’t understand how banks work. But why is Syria lumped into this nonsense? Haven’t its people suffered enough?

The Central Bank of Syria began operating in 1956, succeeding the previous French-run central bank that had administered the country since 1919. It didn’t retain its independence by keeping the Rothschilds out, it did because it was run by a brutal dictatorial family. And even its status as “non-Rothschild” varies depending on which internet meme you get your information from. Some cranks claim there are only three independent central banks in the world, others claim five, others claim nine. Sometimes Syria is on those lists, sometimes it’s not. Other lists have North Korea, Iran, Russia, or even Iceland as not being controlled by the Rothschilds – when in most cases, they’re controlled by repressive regimes. Or in some cases, like Iceland, they were nationalized due to financial crises.

All of this is lazy and nonsensical antisemitism. Blaming the Rothschilds for things going wrong in a country you support is the bedrock of anti-Jewish sentiment. Tyrants, cranks, crackpots, and conspiracy grifters have been doing it has been for millennia. If you’ve been a die-hard Assad supporter and you’re watching his regime collapse, it’s easy to point to Jewish power and control as the cause.

None of this means you’re a truth seeker or alternative journalist. It makes you a crank and an antisemite. The Rothschilds have no central banks, aren’t installing one in Syria, and have nothing to do with the bravery and tenacity of the Syrian opposition. They’re the real story, not the phone string pullers of meme-making nightmares.

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