as with the entries under Ohio: “Unknown Group Name,rnGrove Gity” and “A Goncerned Gitizen, unspecified location.”rnGroups like the “Aryan Republican Army” (also “unspecifiedrnlocation”) are lumped in with the “Keystone Second AmendmentrnFoundation” (yet another “unspecified location”).rnWhether as a research guide to the far right or as a directory ofrnwhich groups not to invite to cosponsor your local communityrnbarbecue, “Two Years After” is worthless.rnSome of the groups, locations specified or not, that the publicationrnlists may actually exist; some might even have morernthan two or three members; and a few might actually be dangerous.rnBut according to the publication, which reproducesrnphotographs of the bombed Murrah Building throughout therntext, all of them are part of the vast and sinister “Patriot Movement,”rnwhose goals were succinctly characterized by the SPLGrnin a media briehng for “Two Years After” on March 4, 1997:rn”The Patriot Movement poses a continued danger to the country,rnincluding the threat of biochemical weapons.” Though repeatedrnagain in the text, this claim is never substantiated, althoughrna few pages later we learn that “The United States facesrnan increasing threat of biochemical terrorism—possibly fromrnelements in the Patriot Movement—that would result in massiverndeath and destruction. Patriot publications are filled withrnstories about an impending biological or chemical attack onrnU.S. citizens by the federal government.” This fear of the federalrnuse of biochemical terrorism against Americans is interpretedrnby the SPLG to mean that the “Patriots” are planning tornuse such techniques themselves.rnNot only are many of the extravagant and sensational claimsrnof the publication never substantiated, but also a false unity isrnattributed to the “Patriot” movement. Ideological as well as behavioralrndistinctions among different groups are ignored, thernactions of individuals are ascribed to the “movement” as arnwhole, and organizations that are entirely law-abiding and essentiallyrnmainstream are lumped in with fragments of the Klanrnand neo-Nazis. This is what has happened to conservative activistrngroups such as the U.S. Taxpayers Party and the Gouncilrnof Gonservative Gitizens, which have been portrayed as part ofrnthe bomb-throwing “Patriot Movement.” In the list of the 858rnPatriot organizations throughout the country, local and staternchapters of the USTP and the GGG, as well as of the John BirchrnSociety, are included, with no differentiation among them, orrnbetween them and the more extreme fringe groups. ThernUSTP, founded by movement conservative Howard Phillips, isrna political party that seeks repeal of the income tax, abolition ofrnabortion, control of immigration, withdrawal from the UnitedrnNations, and a restoration of constitutional government. ThernGGG, mainly a Southern-based organization of grassroots conservativernactivists but with chapters throughout the nation, is arnhard-line conservative but hardly extreme group. Both thernUSTP and the GGG tend to be Buchananite in their orientation,rnboth are entirely law-abiding, and neither has ever beenrnaccused by any responsible source of harboring any sympathyrnfor political violence or engaging in it. The same is true of thernJohn Birch Society. One may agree or disagree with their versionsrnof conservatism and their political views, but to placernthem in the same category as Timothy McVeigh or the NationalrnAlliance is clearly irresponsible.rnYet this style of scholarship is not untypical of the SPLG’srnproducts, and the man behind the Genter, Morris Dees, enjoysrna long track record of similar distortions, as well as some amazinglyrnhigh financial returns from it. In 1988, the Progressive,rnhardly a magazine of the far right, reported that Dees was rakingrnin some $5 million a year, “about twice as much as [thernSPLG] manages to spend,” and USA Today reported in 1996rnthat the SPLG is “the nation’s richest civil rights organization”rnwith assets of $68 million. In 1993, the American Institute ofrnPhilanthropy ranked the SPLG as the fourth least-needy charityrnin the country. “We’re interested in much more than poverty,”rnDees told the Progressive, and his Genter has the bank accountrnto prove it.rnYet whatever the value of MorrisrnDees’ scholarship and whateverrnmotivates him to sponsor it, he continuesrnto bamboozle much of the media.rnOriginally a direct-mail fundraiser by profession. Dees soldrnhis marketing firm in 1967 for a tidy $6-7 million and thenrnheaded for the big time in civil rights. With partner Joe Levin,rnhe set up the SPLG in 1971, won the support of black Georgiarncivil rights activist Julian Bond, and embarked on the lucrativerncrusade in which he has been enlisted ever since. He raisedrnfunds for George McGovern in 1972 and made use of the Mc-rnGovern mailing list afterwards. In 1975, he raised money forrnthe defense of black convict Joan Little, accused of stabbing arnjail guard in North Garolina, and an anti-death penalty projectrnin Georgia with lawyer Millard Farmer. The two men quarreledrnover money, and Dees wound up settling with Farmer for aboutrn$500,[)00. “I was naive at first,” Farmer told the Progressive. “1rnthought he was sincere. I thought the Southern Poverty LawrnGenter raised money to do good for poor people, not simply tornaccumulate wealth.”rnFarmer’s characterization of the SPLG is not unique amongrnDees’ former associates (Dees says of Farmer, “He’s a fool”),rnbut the former marketing wizard was now launched on a newrncareer. He was soon raising funds for Jimmy Carter, thoughrnGarter wasn’t far out enough for Dees, who says, “You can’t firernthem up with a middle-of-the-road cause or candidate. You’verngot to have someone who can arouse people.” If Garter wasn’trnuseful for harvesting the cabbage, however, Ted Kennedy andrnGary I lart were better, and Dees raised funds for both of themrnin the 1980’s.rnBut it was still bush league. It wasn’t until Dees discoveredrnthe Ku Klux Klan and the far right that he really started munchingrnin the high-dollar pastures. In 1980, Dees founded a researchrninstitute and newsletter called Klanwatch, which kept anrneye on the Klan and related (and not a few unrelated) politicalrngroups. Even some of his own associates argued that the BGan,rnat that time with a national membership of less than 10,000,rnwasn’t worth the trouble, but Dees understood where the moneyrnwas buried. “The money poured in,” reported RandallrnWilliams, the original director of Klanwatch, who, like so manyrnof Dees’ other associates, departed in disgruntlement. “We developedrna whole new donor base, anchored by wealthy JewishrnNOVEMBER 1997/15rnrnrn