Raiders of the Lost Rs

Professor Jones had just finished his lecture and was explaining to the museum curator about how a competing archaeologist had set a trap for him and taken the idol which Jones had spent months trying to procure.

“Of course, Indy, of course, you know the museum will pay for anything you have, but my friend,” Brody urged, you may have something bigger to tackle for now,” and he ushered his colleague into the college library where two very official looking men were waiting by a research table in trench coats, brief cases, gray fedora hats and dark glasses.

“Dr. Jones,” the bigger man greeted him as all four settled into library chairs, “what do you know about the ‘invisible hand’ of Adam Smith?”

“Legends mostly, it’s a powerful myth among some western civilizations, especially the oil seeking tribes of old white male elephants and war hawks in North America,” the grizzled adventurer noted, “they treat it like a deity, really, supposed to guide the ebb and flow of financial markets.”

“We’ve found evidence in the beltway of this cult, policy makers chanting an obscure incantation ‘Laissez-faire,’ and something about a great god ‘Reagan’ and cutting things call ‘the prime rate,’ does any of this make sense to you?"

“Oh, sheez ,” Jones mumbled as he rubbed his face. “Let me read you something that a very wise man once wrote,” he started as he pulled a yellowed and dog-eared edition from his leather satchel.

“…Practices of the unscrupulous money changers stand indicted in the court of public opinion, rejected by the hearts and minds of men…they have tried, but their efforts have been cast in the pattern of an outworn tradition. Faced by failure of credit, they have proposed only the lending of more money-” Jones read with the help of his seldom worn spectacles.

“He, he’s ssu su-saying that they had let things get out of hand because of their own greed and materialism and then when they tried to fix it, they just did more of the same- like throwing gas on a ff-fa-fire, is that right?” asked the smaller of the two men, nervously fiddling with his own glasses.

“Something like that,” sighed the hard-boiled hero.

“Is there anything we can do? A better way? Even if it’s difficult and takes years to get back on track?” Inquired the big man. “There’s great fear of an ancient demon, the elephant and hawk tribes fear it so much that they dare not even utter it’s name, ‘Ree-Sez-Eon’ or something like that.”

This drew another heavy sigh from the archaeologist. He stood up slowly, ran his hand threw his hair, and headed for a section of books behind where the g-men were sitting.
“What is it?” asked the bigger man.

“The Rs the Rs” Jones muttered almost under his breath.

“Ah, the ARRRs,” nodded his friend Marcus Brody in recognition.

“What are these ‘ares?’ wh-what are they?” asked the little man in glasses.
Indiana Jones traced his finger along the spines of several large books until he finally found the one he needed. He slipped it off the shelf, dragging cob webs and the smell of mildew with it. Insects scurries into the dark gap left by the heavy volume.

“Here,” Jones said as he heaved the massive book in front of the two agents, opening it to the middle, a cloud of dust in it’s wake. He carefully brushed away another layer of dust with his hand and began tracing a column of paragraphs with his finger, stopping in the middle and pointing, “Here,” he said, pointing again with his finger to emphasize the discovery. Each of the men scooted closer in their seats, the one straightened his glasses while the other pulled a pair out of his coat pocket and put them on, straining to read the ancient words.

“Relief, Recovery, and Reform?” read the larger man who’d just donned his glasses.

“Yeah,” sighed Jones, as if the weight of the world depended on the words. “Relief, Recovery, and most importantly REFORM,” he repeated.

“In the first part of the century, the people practiced strange religions, ‘materialism,’ ‘unsupervised capitalism,’ ‘conspicuous consumption,’ ‘social-Darwinism,’ they were ruthless, heartless, and above all reckless cults that not only raped the land of resources but built empires on the backs of the poor and the middle classes. Ironically, the elephants and hawks held onto power by making the under-classes afraid of what they called ‘class-warfare’ and socialism, not to mention immigrants and Blacks.” He explained, “It was terrible, banks failed, unemployment skyrocketed…”

“And these three ‘R’s fixed everything?” the large man pressed.

“Well, you’re never going to have things perfect,” said Jones, “The deal was that you had to be pragmatic. The important thing was to try to make things fair for the most people, not just the people who already had it good. Of course there were also some very important pieces like collective bargaining for workers- which of course meant letting them to organize in the first place. A progressive tax structure, the idea was that we’re all in this together and the more you could handle, the more you were asked to take on. That way, it was easier for the people who actually worked for a living to save and get ahead. And then there was the biggest R of all was what prevented things like bank failures in the first place,” Jones paused for dramatic effect, and gave the g-men an intense look, “Regulation.”

"What kind of a book is this?" asked the two men it ogether.

"U.S.History, what else?" he replied.