Britain Sold Palestine to Pay Its WWI Debt — The Balfour Declaration Was a Banking Deal

In November of 1917, a British

government official sat down and wrote a

letter that was 67 words long. 67 words.

You could fit it on the back of a

business card. And yet, those 67 words

would set in motion one of the most

consequential and contested conflicts in

modern history.

A conflict that has never been resolved,

that continues to reshape global

politics today, and that, over a century

later, still has no clear end in sight.

The letter was addressed to a man named

Lord Walter Rothschild. And it said, in

part, that His Majesty's Government

viewed with favor the establishment in

Palestine of a national home for the

Jewish people. That letter became known

as the Balfour Declaration.

Now, the standard story goes something

like this. Britain, moved by both

strategic calculation and a deep moral

sympathy for the Jewish people, made a

noble, if complicated, promise to

support a Jewish homeland. It was a

decision shaped by war, by religion, by

empire, and by idealism. And that is all

partially true. But, there is a layer

beneath that story. A layer that is much

colder, much more transactional, and

frankly, far more interesting. Because

when you pull back and look at the full

picture, the financial catastrophe

Britain was drowning in, the web of

competing promises it was spinning

across the Middle East, the chemistry of

explosives, the corridors of a desperate

war cabinet, and the private banking

empires that sat behind it all,

what you find is that the Balfour

Declaration was not simply a moral

statement. It was, in many respects, a

financial and political transaction. A

deal struck by a bankrupt empire in

exchange for survival.

This is that story. Let me take you back

to the summer of 1914.

Europe had just tripped into the most

catastrophic war it had ever seen, and

Britain entered it with a degree of

confidence that, in hindsight, reads

almost as delusion.

The British Empire was the largest in

human history. Its navy ruled every

ocean. Its currency, the pound sterling,

was the foundation of global finance.

And its political class genuinely

believed the whole thing would be over

by Christmas. It was not over by

Christmas. It was not over by the next

Christmas, either, or the one after

that. What the British discovered, to

their mounting horror, was that modern

industrial warfare was not like anything

that had come before. This was not a

campaign of cavalry charges and quick,

decisive battles.

This was an unending machinery of death

that required an equally unending

machinery of money to sustain it. Every

single day of the war, the British

government was spending sums of money

that would have been unimaginable in

peacetime. The bills for shells, for

guns, for ships, for food, for uniforms,

for men, they kept arriving, and they

never stopped.

In 1914, the British national debt stood

at around 650 million pounds. By 1919,

when the smoke had finally cleared, it

stood at 7.7 billion pounds. That is not

a rounding error. That is a more than

10-fold increase in 5 years. Britain had

essentially gone from a creditor nation,

a country that lent money to the rest of

the world, to a debtor nation scrambling

to keep its head above water. The City

of London, once the undisputed financial

capital of the earth, was quietly ceding

that title to New York. And everyone in

power knew it. And no one wanted to say

it out loud.

The most pressing creditor of all was

the United States. Britain had borrowed

enormous sums from American banks, and

eventually from the American government

itself after the United States entered

the war in April of 1917. By the spring

of that year, Britain's overdraft at the

American banking house of J.P. Morgan

had reached nearly 400 million dollars,

a figure that represented the very edge

of what was financially sustainable.

France, too, had essentially exhausted

its ability to keep borrowing privately.

At one point, in early 1917, American

President Woodrow Wilson had instructed

the Federal Reserve to discourage

American banks from making further loans

to Britain and France. And almost

overnight, the entire private financing

structure that had been keeping the

Allied war effort alive lurched toward

the edge of collapse. Wilson was using

money as leverage. He wanted the Allies

to know that if American money kept

flowing, it would flow on American

terms. So, here is the context in which

everything that follows takes place.

Britain, in 1917, was exhausted, deeply

in debt, facing the potential collapse

of its war financing, hemorrhaging men

on the Western Front, watching Russia

dissolve into revolution, and

desperately searching for any strategic

advantage, any diplomatic maneuver, any

deal that might tip the scales. Now, let

us talk about the land at the center of

all of this. Palestine, in 1917, was a

province of the Ottoman Empire. It had

been under Ottoman rule for four

centuries. And crucially, it was not

empty. At the start of the First World

War, Palestine was home to somewhere in

the range of 700,000 people. The

overwhelming majority of whom were Arab

Muslims and Arab Christians who had

lived there for generations. Jewish

communities also existed in the region,

centered primarily in Jerusalem, Hebron,

Tiberias, and Safed. Ancient communities

with deep roots. But, in terms of raw

demographics, Jews made up fewer than

10% of the total population. Some

estimates put the Jewish population at

the time of the Balfour Declaration at

around 60,000 people, compared to more

than 700,000 Arabs. This is not a minor

detail. It is the central fact that the

Balfour Declaration's authors chose to

address with a single subordinate clause

buried at the end of the letter. The

existing majority population of

Palestine was described, in the letter

that would determine their fate, not by

name, not as a people, not as a

community with political rights or

national aspirations, but simply as a

consideration to be kept in mind.

Arthur Balfour himself, in a private

memorandum written in 1919, was blunter

than the letter. He wrote that, in

Palestine, they did not propose even to

go through the form of consulting the

wishes of the present inhabitants of the

country. Zionism, he said, was a far

profounder import than the desires of

the 700,000 Arabs who then inhabited

that ancient land.

So, the stage is set. Now, let us meet

the people who built this deal.

The first person you need to understand

is Chaim Weizmann.

By 1917, Weizmann was a Russian-born

biochemist and a passionate Zionist

working as a reader in biochemistry at

the University of Manchester. He had

emigrated to England in 1904, become a

naturalized British citizen, and spent

years cultivating relationships with the

British political elite in service of

the Zionist dream, a Jewish homeland in

Palestine. He was not a famous man

before the war. He held no official

leadership position in the Zionist

movement at its outbreak. But, he had

two qualities that would prove

transformative. A gift for personal

diplomacy that was almost hypnotic in

its effect on British politicians, and a

scientific mind that would produce one

of the most strategically important

discoveries of the entire war.

Here is where it gets genuinely

remarkable.

In the early years of the First World

War, Britain faced a crisis that most

history books do not discuss alongside

Gallipoli or the Somme, but was arguably

just as dangerous. The British military

needed enormous quantities of a chemical

called acetone. Acetone was the

essential solvent used in the production

of cordite, the smokeless explosive

propellant used in virtually every shell

fired by British forces. Without

acetone, you cannot make cordite.

Without cordite, your artillery goes

silent. And in the industrial slaughter

of the Western Front, artillery was the

dominant weapon. The problem was that

acetone was traditionally imported from

Germany and other Central European

sources, which were, for obvious

reasons, now completely closed to

Britain. Britain's acetone supplies

began to run critically short just as

the war's appetite for shells became

insatiable. Weizmann had developed,

through years of laboratory work, a

fermentation process that could produce

acetone from cereal starches, grain,

maize, even horse chestnuts at one point

when grain supplies ran short.

When Winston Churchill, then the First

Lord of the Admiralty, learned of this

process, he summoned Weizmann for a

meeting.

Churchill reportedly asked Weizmann

point-blank, "Can you make 30,000 tons

of acetone?" Weizmann answered that,

once the bacteriology of the process was

established, it was only a question of

scaling the operation. The government

commandeered distillery equipment across

Britain and built dedicated factories.

By 1917, the Weizmann fermentation

process was producing acetone at a rate

of nearly 3,000 tons per year at

factories, including the Royal Naval

Cordite Factory at Holton Heath in

Dorset. Between 1914 and 1918,

Churchill's navy and the British army

fired 248 million shells. Weizmann's

chemistry kept that furnace burning.

Now, there is a story, memorable and

seductive, that when Balfour later asked

Weizmann what he wished in return for

his contribution to the war effort,

Weizmann replied, "There's only one

thing I want, a national home for my

people."

Weizmann himself was skeptical of it. He

wrote later that he almost wished it had

been as simple as that, but that history

does not deal in Aladdin's lamps. What

is certain is that the practical

relationship Weizmann built with the

British government through his wartime

scientific work gave him access,

credibility, and personal relationships

with the most powerful men in the

country. He met with Balfour privately

on multiple occasions. He had the ear of

Lloyd George, the Prime Minister. He

knew Herbert Samuel, who would later

become the first British High

Commissioner of Palestine. He had

become, in the corridors of Whitehall,

not merely a supplicant, but a trusted

figure.

And he used that trust with

extraordinary skill. Weizmann told the

British government things it wanted to

believe. He told them that the vast

majority of Jews worldwide were Zionists

who would flood to Britain's side if

Britain publicly embraced Zionism. He

told them that Jewish influence in both

the United States and revolutionary

Russia was immense, and that a

pro-Zionist declaration from Britain

could sway American Jewry to push for

greater American commitment to the war.

He also, in a move of considerable

diplomatic cunning, warned the British

that Germany was considering making its

own pro-Zionist declaration, and that if

Germany beat Britain to the punch,

Jewish sympathies across the world could

swing away from the Allies. Now, we need

to be careful here, because historians

have spent considerable time examining

how accurate these assessments actually

were. The short answer is not very. The

British government held what one

historical analysis described as an

exaggerated view of the wealth and

influence of world Jewry. Russian Jews

were deeply divided on the Zionist

question, and the majority of

politically active Russian Jews were not

Zionists, but socialists, mostly

concentrated in the Menshevik camp,

rather than among the Bolsheviks.

When the Balfour Declaration was finally

published in early November of 1917, the

Bolshevik Revolution had already

happened.

Lenin had entered Petrograd, and the new

Soviet government had immediately called

for an armistice. The declaration's

primary strategic objective, keeping

Russia in the war by appealing to Jewish

opinion there, had been rendered moot

within days of its release. But, in the

months leading up to the declaration,

these strategic calculations felt urgent

and plausible to a war cabinet that was

desperate for any lever it could pull.

The record of the British War Cabinet

meeting on the 31st of October, 1917,

just 2 days before Balfour sent the

letter, is remarkably candid. Balfour

told his colleagues that the vast

majority of Jews in Russia and America

now appeared to be favorable to Zionism,

and that if Britain could make a

declaration favorable to such an ideal,

they should be able to carry on

extremely useful propaganda both in

Russia and America.

The language is not that of altruism. It

is the language of wartime calculation,

of finding pressure points and

exploiting them.

The declaration was explicitly described

as a propaganda asset. But, to

understand what Britain was actually

giving away, you also need to understand

what Britain had already promised to

other people. Because, here is where the

story becomes almost farcical in its

audacity. By the time Arthur Balfour sat

down to write that letter to Lord

Rothschild in November of 1917,

Britain had already made two other major

promises about the fate of Palestine and

the surrounding region. Promises that

directly contradicted the Balfour

Declaration. And both of those promises

were still technically in force. The

first promise had been made in a series

of letters exchanged in 1915 and 1916

between Sir Henry McMahon, the British

High Commissioner in Egypt, and Hussein

bin Ali, the Sharif of Mecca.

Hussein controlled Mecca and Medina, the

two holiest cities in Islam, and the

British wanted him to launch a revolt

against the Ottoman Empire, which he

did. The famous Arab revolt, later

romanticized in the legend of Lawrence

of Arabia. In exchange for this revolt,

Britain effectively promised Hussein

that the Arab lands of the former

Ottoman Empire would become an

independent Arab state or confederation

of states after the war.

The exact boundaries were kept

deliberately vague, a piece of

diplomatic ambiguity that would generate

argument for decades. But, internal

British documents, including a note from

Lord Curzon in 1918 and a memorandum

from the Foreign Office's Political

Intelligence Department in 1919, stated

plainly that Palestine had been included

within the scope of the promise of Arab

independence. Britain had, in other

words, promised Palestine to the Arabs

in exchange for their military

contribution to the war. The second

promise was made in May of 1916 in a

secret agreement known as the

Sykes-Picot Agreement, named after its

two chief architects, Sir Mark Sykes of

Britain and François Georges Picot of

France. This agreement carved up the

entire Middle East between British and

French spheres of influence in

anticipation of the Ottoman Empire's

collapse. Palestine, under Sykes-Picot,

was designated for international

administration. It was not to be under

exclusive British control, and it was

certainly not to be handed over as a

homeland for any particular ethnic or

religious group. So, to summarize where

things stand in November of 1917,

Britain has promised Palestine to the

Arabs in exchange for the Arab revolt.

Britain has agreed with France to place

Palestine under international

administration. And now Britain is

promising the Zionist movement a Jewish

national home in Palestine. Three

promises, three different destinations

for the same piece of land. And all

three of these commitments were made by

the same empire within a 2-year window

to groups whose interests were

fundamentally incompatible, and each

without the knowledge of the others.

When the Bolsheviks published the secret

Sykes-Picot Agreement in late November

of 1917,

just weeks after the Balfour

Declaration, Arab leaders were outraged.

Hussein felt betrayed. The elaborate

architecture of British promises was

suddenly visible to everyone, and it

was, to put it generously,

self-contradictory.

Lord Curzon would later privately

confirm that the McMahon-Hussein

correspondence had promised Palestine as

Arab and independent. A Foreign Office

official in 1923 privately noted that

the British had committed themselves to

incompatible pledges, and that the best

policy was to let sleeping dogs lie.

T. E. Lawrence, the man who had helped

orchestrate the Arab revolt on behalf of

Britain, wrote later that he had spent

years being continually and bitterly

ashamed.

Now, where does the financial dimension

come in? Because, that is the thread we

started pulling at the beginning, and it

is time to follow it to its source.

Begin with the Rothschilds. The letter

that became the Balfour Declaration was

addressed personally to Lord Walter

Rothschild, a member of the most

powerful banking dynasty in the world.

This was not a coincidence of protocol.

The Rothschild family was deeply

intertwined with both the financing of

the British Empire and the Zionist

project in Palestine. Baron Edmond de

Rothschild, Walter's cousin, had been

funding Jewish agricultural settlements

in Palestine since the 1880s,

effectively bankrolling the early

Zionist colonization effort with his

personal fortune. By 1900, he was

reportedly the largest single employer

of Palestinian Arab labor through his

agricultural enterprises there.

The Rothschild family had been donating

heavily to the cause of a Jewish

homeland for decades before it became

British government policy.

Beginning in 1916, British policymakers

in the Foreign Office explicitly

believed that Jewish financial networks

and Rothschild influence in particular

could help finance the growing expenses

of the First World War. There was a

school of thought within British policy

circles, one that historians have since

described as based on an exaggerated and

somewhat stereotypical view of Jewish

financial power,

that a public British endorsement of

Zionism could mobilize Jewish capital

and Jewish political influence in the

United States in ways that would benefit

Britain's war financing and its

diplomatic position with Washington. It

is important to be clear about what this

means and what it does not mean. There

is no documented transaction in which

the Rothschilds said, publicly or in

writing, that in exchange for a British

promise of a Jewish homeland, they would

provide specific financial support to

the British war effort.

What we can say with confidence is that

the British government held the belief,

however exaggerated, that endorsing

Zionism would help them with their

financial and political situation in

America.

That belief was explicit in the War

Cabinet minutes. Balfour said so

directly. And the letter itself was

addressed to a Rothschild, transmitted

to the Zionist Federation in a

transaction that was as much diplomatic

and financial signaling as it was

humanitarian declaration.

The question of why the letter went to

Walter Rothschild specifically, rather

than to Weizmann, who was the actual

Zionist negotiating lead, is

instructive. Weizmann himself had wanted

the letter addressed to him directly.

Balfour chose Rothschild instead. The

Rothschild name carried financial and

social weight that Weizmann's could not

yet match. Addressing the letter to

Rothschild was a signal to Jewish

communities worldwide, to American

Jewish financiers, to anyone watching,

about the seriousness and the nature of

the commitment being made.

And there is one more thread to pull.

The Rothschild archives' own records

indicate that beginning in 1916, British

officials explicitly hoped that in

exchange for their support of Zionism,

the Jewish community would help to

finance the growing expenses of the

First World War. The practical

mechanisms of this were multiple.

Wealthy Jewish donors financing the war

effort directly, Jewish political

influence in America pushing for greater

American financial and military

engagement, and the broader propaganda

value of demonstrating that the allies

stood for the aspirations of a

persecuted people. All of these were, at

their core, financial calculations

wrapped in the language of morality and

statecraft. There's also a strategic

imperial calculation that must be

discussed honestly, because it sits at

the heart of why Palestine specifically,

rather than some other territory, ended

up at the center of this transaction.

By 1917, the British military, under

General Edmund Allenby, was advancing

through Ottoman-controlled Palestine.

Jerusalem would fall to British forces

in December of that year. And key voices

within the British War Cabinet,

including Lloyd George himself, had come

to see exclusive British control over

Palestine as an essential post-war goal.

Palestine sat as a land bridge between

the crucial British territories of

India, Egypt, and the Suez Canal,

Britain's imperial lifeline.

The Sykes-Picot Agreement had envisioned

international administration of the

territory.

Britain wanted to get out of that

commitment and establish direct

dominance. Supporting a Jewish national

home under British protection would

accomplish two things at once. It would

give Britain a reason to claim Palestine

for itself, rather

submitting to international

administration. And it would create, in

theory, a population that would be loyal

to Britain and provide a permanent

justification

Mark Sykes, who had co-authored the very

agreement that bore his name, had become

an enthusiastic Zionist by 1917, in part

for precisely this imperial reason. He

served as a key conduit between the

Zionist leaders and the War Cabinet, and

he understood that a Jewish national

home in Palestine would serve as the

perfect instrument for converting

British military occupation into

something that looked like a

civilizational mandate. He reportedly

told a group of Zionist leaders in early

1917, "I want to see a Jewish Ulster in

Palestine." That phrase is worth sitting

with.

Ulster, in British political history,

was the Protestant settler colony in

Northern Ireland that served as

Britain's anchor of control over the

island. The comparison was not

accidental.

Sykes was thinking about Palestine the

way British imperial planners had always

thought about settler populations, as a

community that would owe its existence

to British power, and would therefore

defend British interests.

So, what was the British War Cabinet

actually doing on the 31st of October,

1917,

when it approved the final text of the

Balfour Declaration? It was

simultaneously doing several different

things at once. Some of them cynical,

and some of them genuinely idealistic.

But, all of them bound together by the

iron logic of a desperate war.

It was pledging a propaganda asset to

improve British standing with Jewish

communities in America and Russia.

It was trying to preempt Germany from

making its own pro-Zionist declaration.

It was securing a rationale for British

dominance in Palestine after the Ottoman

collapse. It was signaling to Rothschild

financial networks that Britain was a

worthy partner. It was expressing the

genuine Christian Zionist sympathies of

men like Lloyd George and Balfour, who

had grown up reading the Bible, and who

genuinely believed that restoring the

Jewish people to their ancient homeland

was a kind of sacred obligation. And it

was doing all of this while

simultaneously maintaining promises to

the Arabs in a secret agreement with

France that flatly contradicted the new

promise being made. The declaration that

emerged from all of this, those 67

words,

was by design vague enough to mean

different things to different audiences.

The phrase national home rather than

state was chosen deliberately because it

was ambiguous. Did it promise a Jewish

state? Not explicitly.

Did it promise Jewish immigration and

settlement? Yes.

In that one subordinate clause, the

words civil and religious rights were

used. Not political rights, not national

rights.

The existing population of Palestine was

guaranteed the right to pray.

Their right to govern themselves, their

right to determine the future of the

land they had lived on for generations,

was not mentioned. There was one voice

inside the British cabinet who said

plainly what the declaration's

consequences would be.

Edwin Montagu was the Secretary of State

for India in 1917. He was also the only

Jewish member of the British cabinet,

and he was deeply opposed to the Balfour

Declaration.

He wrote in a cabinet memorandum that

the policy of His Majesty's government

was anti-Semitic in result and would

prove a rallying ground for anti-Semites

in every country of the world. His

argument was that defining Jewish people

as a nation without a country and

proposing to relocate them to Palestine

would give ammunition to those who

wanted to strip Jewish citizens of their

rights in every country where they lived

by suggesting their true loyalty lay

elsewhere. His objections were

overruled.

The years that followed the declaration

are a story of Britain slowly

discovering that it had made a promise

it could not keep to three different

groups about the same piece of land all

at the same time. The British Mandate

for Palestine, formally ratified by the

League of Nations in 1922, incorporated

the Balfour Declaration into its

governing framework, making Britain

legally responsible for facilitating a

Jewish national home while

simultaneously protecting the rights of

the Arab majority.

These two obligations were not

compatible. They had never been

compatible. The architects of the

mandate knew they were not compatible.

They proceeded anyway because they had

made the promises and could not find a

way to unmake them. The Arab population

of Palestine resisted from the

beginning. They had been given no voice

in the negotiations that shaped their

future. They had not been consulted

during the drafting of the Balfour

Declaration. They were not represented

at the Paris Peace Conference in 1919.

Their political leadership was

outmaneuvered, their protests were

dismissed, and their land was, through a

combination of legal purchase, British

administrative facilitation, and

outright dispossession, steadily

transferred to Jewish settler

communities over the course of three

decades. The Arab Revolt of 1936 to 1939

was a desperate uprising against a

mandate system that was systematically

undermining the Arab majority's ability

to determine their own future.

It was met with British military force.

By the end of the 1940s, the catastrophe

of the Holocaust had transformed the

moral and political calculus around

Zionism entirely. Jewish survivors of

Nazi extermination, who had nowhere to

go because most countries refused to

accept them as refugees, were streaming

toward Palestine.

The Zionist movement had been building

the infrastructure of a state for 30

years.

And Britain, exhausted by a second

catastrophic war, increasingly unable to

manage the violence erupting between

Jewish and Arab communities in

Palestine, and deeply conscious of the

fact that it had helped create the

situation through the contradictions of

its own policies, simply gave up. In May

of 1948, the British Mandate ended.

The state of Israel was declared, and

within hours, the first Arab-Israeli War

began.

Approximately 750,000 Palestinian Arabs

fled or were expelled from their homes

during the war that followed.

The events of 1948 are known in Arabic

as the Nakba, which means the

catastrophe.

It was the largest forced displacement

of population in the history of the

modern Middle East, and it created a

refugee crisis whose third and fourth

and fifth generations are still

stateless today. The borders drawn in

that war, the UN Partition Plan that the

Arab states rejected and that the Jewish

forces expanded beyond, the ongoing

occupation of the West Bank and Gaza,

all of it flows in an unbroken line from

those 67 words written on the 2nd of

November, 1917.

Now, here's the question that history

demands we sit with honestly. Were there

good faith intentions mixed into all of

this? Undoubtedly, yes. Both Balfour and

Lloyd George appear to have had genuine

personal sympathy for the Zionist cause,

rooted in their religious upbringings,

and a real belief that Jewish people

deserved a homeland after centuries of

persecution.

Weizmann was not simply a manipulator.

He was a genuine nationalist with a

vision he had dedicated his life to. The

Jewish communities who settled in

Palestine were not simply colonial

instruments. They were human beings

fleeing real persecution, building

schools and hospitals and universities,

trying to construct a home after being

driven from every other home they had

tried to make in Europe.

But good faith intentions, when they are

pursued through the vehicle of imperial

power with no accountability to the

people most affected, produce outcomes

that are indistinguishable from malice.

The Arab majority of Palestine did not

participate in the transaction that

determined their fate. They were not at

the table when Britain promised their

homeland to three different parties

simultaneously.

They were represented in the Balfour

Declaration only as an unnamed mass.

Their civil and religious rights

mentioned in a clause that was written

to give plausible deniability, not to

offer genuine protection.

The Palestinian Arabs were, in the most

literal sense, the collateral in a debt

settlement they did not agree to and

could not refuse. The British Empire in

1917 was not a humanitarian

organization. It was a global imperial

power fighting for its survival,

managing a financial crisis of

staggering proportions, and making

decisions with the cold logic of a state

that understood leverage and obligation

and strategic interest.

The Balfour Declaration was made because

it served British interests in the war.

It was addressed to a Rothschild because

of the financial and political weight

that name carried. It promised something

Britain did not own to people who had

not asked for it to be given over the

heads of those who were already living

there. The consequences of those 67

words have now lasted longer than a

century. Every attempt to resolve them

has failed. Every peace process has

collapsed. Every generation born into

the conflict inherits a wound that was

open before they existed. And at the

origin of that wound is a letter, a

careful, deliberate, strategically

calculated letter

written by a bankrupt empire addressed

to a banking dynasty promising someone

else's land as a price of survival. John

Maynard Keynes, one of the greatest

economic minds Britain ever produced,

was a young Treasury official during the

First World War. He watched the

financial contortions of his government

with clear eyes, and he later wrote that

the statesmen of 1917 were juggling with

fires that they barely understood. The

Balfour Declaration may be the most

consequential fire any of them lit,

and it has never stopped burning.

If you made it to the end of this one, I

would love for you to leave a comment

telling me what you thought. This is one

of the most layered and contested

stories I have ever tried to tell,

and I am genuinely curious what you took

from it.

If you found this useful, a subscription

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We are working hard to keep producing

this kind of research-driven

storytelling. And if this kind of

history interests you, check out the

video on the Rothschilds. There is a lot

in that one that connects directly to

what we covered today.

Thank you so much for watching, and I

will see you in the next one.