The following is the continuation of our story, “He Who Pays the Piper Calls the Tune.”

While we’ve dramatized and fictionalized dialogue, most of what you’re about to read is based on real-life events, people, and historical facts.

Through the art of story telling, we’ve summarized how our world has been shaped.

We hope you enjoy the conclusion.

CLICK HERE for Part One.

He Who Pays the Piper Calls the Tune

Part II

Chapter 5: The Post-War Order

The conference room on the fifty-sixth floor of Rockefeller Center was quiet, save for the steady hum of New York City below. A faint scent of leather and cigar smoke hung in the air, remnants of previous gatherings that had shaped industries, governments, and now—a post-war world order.

John D. Rockefeller III adjusted his tie, his piercing gaze scanning the faces of his advisors seated around the long mahogany table. The room exuded power, and the men present knew they were at the helm of something much larger than themselves.

“The post-war world is ours to mold,” John began, his voice measured but resolute. “But we must tread carefully. We’re not building an empire. Influence, not dominance, will be our currency.”

“Influence through what, exactly?” an advisor inquired, leaning forward. “Philanthropy? Business? Politics?”

John’s lips curled into a faint smile. “All of the above. The key is subtlety—making our presence indispensable without drawing unnecessary scrutiny.”

The Rockefellers had already started laying the groundwork.

The United Nations headquarters stood as a testament to their vision, constructed on land donated by the family. It was a symbolic gesture, one that positioned them as stewards of global peace and cooperation. Yet beneath the veneer of altruism lay a calculated strategy to embed their values into the emerging international order.

“Gentlemen, the United Nations is not just a building,” John continued. “It is a framework. A gateway. Through it, we influence policies, shape global priorities, and, most importantly, align them with our vision.”

A ripple of nods spread around the table.

The Marshall Plan, with its billions of dollars flowing into war-torn Europe, presented the perfect opportunity.

The Marshall Plan, officially known as the European Recovery Program (ERP), was a U.S.-led initiative aimed at providing financial aid to Western European countries after World War II to help rebuild their economies and prevent the spread of communism. Proposed by U.S. Secretary of State George C. Marshall in a speech at Harvard University on June 5, 1947, the plan became a cornerstone of post-war recovery efforts.

While publicly framed as an act of American generosity, it also paved the way for Rockefeller-backed industries to dominate markets overseas. Steel, oil, and pharmaceuticals—these sectors thrived under contracts and policies steered by their influence.

In Geneva, the World Health Organization (WHO) was taking shape. Behind the scenes, Rockefeller money played a pivotal role in defining its agenda. The eradication of diseases like malaria and smallpox was a noble cause, but it also ensured that Rockefeller-funded pharmaceutical companies became indispensable partners in these efforts.

“We’re writing history,” one advisor remarked, lighting a cigarette. “And making a tidy profit while we’re at it.”

Not all endeavors were met with unanimous approval.

Latin America, rife with populist movements, proved a thorn in their side. Leaders like Jacobo Árbenz in Guatemala and Juan Perón in Argentina railed against U.S. imperialism, tying it directly to corporate interests. Rockefeller-backed initiatives, including the operations of United Fruit Company, were accused of exploiting local populations and resources.

The United Fruit Company (UFC) was a powerful U.S.-based corporation that dominated the banana trade in Central and South America during much of the 20th century. Established in 1899, the company controlled vast agricultural lands, transportation networks, and political influence in many Latin American countries, which were often referred to as “banana republics” due to their economic dependence on banana exports.

“Árbenz is a problem,” one advisor warned during a heated discussion. “His land reforms are threatening our assets in Guatemala.”

John’s expression darkened. “The problem will be dealt with,” he replied curtly. And it was.

In came the CIA.

Known as Operation PBSUCCESS, the CIA’s 1954 coup d’état in Guatemala was a covert operation orchestrated by the United States to overthrow the democratically elected president of Guatemala, Jacobo Árbenz Guzmán.

It left an indelible mark, reinforcing perceptions of the Rockefellers’ reach into the darkest corners of U.S. intelligence. The coup marked a significant event in Cold War history and had lasting consequences for Guatemala and U.S.-Latin American relations.

As the decade came to a close, the family’s influence was firmly entrenched across the globe. Yet the looming shadow of the Cold War presented a new challenge. To maintain their grip, they would need to adapt—and innovate.

Chapter 6: Seeds of Resistance

The whispers of dissent grew louder as the mid-20th century progressed. A growing number of doctors, scientists, and journalists began questioning the dominance of the Rockefeller-backed medical-industrial complex. These critics formed alliances, sharing stories of suppressed research and silenced voices.

Dr. Linus Pauling, a two-time Nobel laureate, was one such voice.

Pauling’s research into the benefits of high-dose vitamin C challenged the pharmaceutical paradigm. His studies showed promising results in boosting immunity and even combating cancer. But his findings were met with skepticism—not because they lacked merit, but because they threatened the status quo.

The AMA and other Rockefeller-influenced organizations dismissed Pauling’s work as “pseudo-science.” Media outlets, many of which relied on advertising dollars from pharmaceutical companies, ran hit pieces questioning his credibility. Pauling, once celebrated for his brilliance, found himself marginalized.

But Pauling wasn’t alone. A network of alternative health practitioners and researchers began to form. They shared a common belief: that health was about more than just drugs and procedures. They advocated for nutrition, exercise, and holistic care.

And they saw the Rockefeller empire as a barrier to true progress.

In 1963, a pivotal moment occurred. The Milbank Fund released a report praising the benefits of community health centers. These centers, which provided holistic care, were gaining traction in underserved areas. But the report’s recommendations clashed with the interests of the pharmaceutical industry. Behind the scenes, Rockefeller advisors worked to ensure that federal funding for these centers was limited.

The battle lines were drawn. On one side was the Rockefeller-backed establishment, with its vast resources and institutional power. On the other were the dissidents, armed with little more than their convictions and a growing base of public support.

Chapter 7: The Global Stage

David Rockefeller’s vision extended far beyond the borders of the United States. By the 1970s, the Rockefeller Foundation was deeply involved in international development. Their initiatives spanned continents, from agricultural projects in Africa to health campaigns in Asia.

One of their most ambitious efforts was the Green Revolution. Led by Norman Borlaug, a Rockefeller-funded scientist, the initiative aimed to combat global hunger through high-yield crops and modern farming techniques. The program was hailed as a success, saving millions from starvation. But it also came with consequences.

Critics argued that the Green Revolution’s reliance on chemical fertilizers and pesticides—products often supplied by Rockefeller-linked companies—created new problems. Soil degradation, water scarcity, and economic dependency plagued the regions it was meant to help. Small farmers struggled to compete, their livelihoods overshadowed by corporate agriculture.

At the same time, the Rockefeller Foundation’s involvement in global health initiatives continued to grow. They funded vaccine research, disease eradication campaigns, and public health education. But their efforts weren’t without controversy.

In India, a Rockefeller-backed sterilization program aimed at controlling population growth faced backlash. Reports emerged of coercion and human rights abuses. The program’s failures highlighted the tension between philanthropic ambition and ethical responsibility.

David Rockefeller defended the foundation’s work. “Our goal has always been to improve lives,” he said in an interview. “But progress is never without challenges. We learn, we adapt, and we move forward.”

But, despite his confident tone, he thought to himself: “There must be a way to silence those opposed to our progress…”

Chapter 8: The Rise of Environmentalism

The sun was setting over the Hudson Valley estate when David Rockefeller called the family meeting to order. The 1960s had ushered in an era of both turmoil and opportunity, and David, as the family’s de facto head, knew they were at a crossroads.

“The world is changing,” David began, pacing the room. “Oil remains our lifeblood, but the rise of OPEC cannot be ignored. Resource-rich nations are asserting their independence. We must be ready to adapt.”

Chase Manhattan Bank, under David’s leadership, had already begun forging relationships with key players in the Middle East. His frequent trips to meet with the Shah of Iran and King Faisal of Saudi Arabia were well-documented, though the true nature of these discussions often remained behind closed doors.

“King Faisal’s nervous about Western exploitation,” an associate remarked after one such trip. “He wants guarantees.”

David nodded. “We offer him stability. Investments in infrastructure. Education. We make them dependent on our expertise, not just our oil.”

Meanwhile, a different kind of storm was brewing.

Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, a book that eloquently challenged humanity’s unwavering faith in technological progress by exposing the dangers of the pesticide DDT, had ignited a firestorm of environmental activism. The family, synonymous with oil, found itself in a precarious position.

“We can’t afford to be the villains of this narrative,” David said during a strategy session. “If we’re smart, we’ll lead the charge for change.”

The Rockefeller Foundation began funneling funds into environmental research and conservation projects. They supported the establishment of national parks and bankrolled studies into renewable energy. Publicly, they were hailed as visionaries. Privately, some advisors grumbled about “greenwashing”—a calculated effort to safeguard the family’s reputation.

“It’s not greenwashing,” David countered during one particularly heated debate. “It’s insurance. Against irrelevance.”

By the decade’s end, the strategy was paying dividends. The Rockefellers were no longer merely captains of industry; they were architects of a sustainable future. Critics remained skeptical, questioning whether their environmental initiatives were genuine or merely another form of control.

Chapter 9: The Shift

By the 1980s, the world was shifting yet again. Silicon Valley was rising, and the digital revolution threatened to upend traditional industries. The Rockefellers’ strongholds in energy, finance, and medicine seemed almost archaic in comparison to the promise of technology.

“Information is the new oil,” David proclaimed during a board meeting. “The question is, how do we position ourselves?”

The family began investing heavily in emerging technologies. Partnerships with institutions like MIT and Stanford—both of which had long-standing Rockefeller ties—accelerated research into artificial intelligence, biotechnology, and telecommunications.

At the same time, the Rockefeller Foundation expanded its global health initiatives. The HIV/AIDS epidemic galvanized their efforts, leading to significant investments in antiretroviral drugs and prevention campaigns. Their role in shaping global health policy grew, though not without controversy.

“You’re turning health into a commodity,” a journalist accused David during a rare interview. “How do you respond to critics who say you’re profiting from suffering?”

David’s expression remained impassive. “Progress requires investment. We’re providing solutions, not creating problems.”

As the millennium approached, the Rockefellers had successfully navigated yet another transformation. Yet the digital age brought new players to the forefront, challenging their dominance.

Would the family’s legacy endure, or would they be relegated to the sidelines of history? Or worse, would they be thought of as puppeteers using civilization as pawns under their control?

The answer, as always, lay in their ability to adapt.

Chapter 10: The Dawn of the Information Age

The conference room at 30 Rockefeller Plaza was bathed in the soft glow of late-afternoon sunlight. David Rockefeller sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his hands steepled, eyes focused on the array of advisors, strategists, and media consultants gathered before him. The year was 1983, and the air was thick with urgency.

“The world is changing faster than we can comprehend,” David began, his voice calm but resolute. “The way people consume information, the way they think, the way they act.

We’re no longer just fighting battles in boardrooms or across supply chains. This war will be fought in living rooms, through television sets, newspapers, and—soon enough—computer screens.”

An advisor, a grizzled veteran of corporate media, nodded. “Cable news is exploding. CNN is already making waves with their 24-hour news cycle. The narrative will no longer be controlled by the morning edition of The Times or the evening news on ABC.”

David’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then we ensure that we’re the ones shaping that narrative.”

The Rockefeller family had always understood the power of influence, but while the rise of mass media threatened this power, it also presented an unprecedented opportunity.

For decades, their wealth and connections had bought them access to editors, publishers, and broadcasters. Now, with the advent of cable television and the looming potential of the internet, the battlefield was expanding exponentially.

“We’ve already made significant investments in NBC,” said another advisor, flipping through a dossier. “But we should think bigger. Diversify. Control multiple streams of information. Not just news, but entertainment, publishing, and—”

“Education,” David interrupted, his voice sharp. “That’s where real influence lies. What people read in textbooks, what they’re taught in schools. Ideas planted early grow deep roots.”

The table murmured in agreement.

One younger strategist, barely in his thirties but already carrying the swagger of someone who had earned his seat, spoke up. “We need to be subtle about it, though. The public is becoming more skeptical of concentrated power. If we’re too overt, it’ll backfire. Look at what’s happening with the Trilateral Commission.”

David’s eyes narrowed. The Trilateral Commission, a think tank he had helped found to foster cooperation among North America, Europe, and Japan, had become a lightning rod for conspiracy theories. To many, it epitomized the notion of a shadowy elite pulling the strings of global governance.

“Let them talk,” David said, dismissing the concern with a wave of his hand. “Conspiracies are distractions. What matters is what’s real. Control the information, and you control reality.”

Chapter 11: Subtlety. Always subtlety

By the mid-1980s, the Rockefellers had positioned themselves at the nexus of media and technology. Their investments in NBC – funneled through GE to conceal their influence  -provided a foothold in the burgeoning cable news market.

Simultaneously, they funneled money into academic institutions and think tanks, ensuring their influence extended into research and policy.

“We need more than just ownership,” said John, David’s nephew, during a strategy meeting.

“We need partnerships with journalists, producers, and academics. People who understand the power of storytelling.”

The family’s philanthropy became a key tool in this effort. Grants flowed to universities, public broadcasting initiatives, and cultural organizations. Publicly, these donations were framed as acts of benevolence. Privately, they were strategic investments.

“A grant to PBS buys more goodwill than a full-page ad in The New York Times,” John explained to a skeptical colleague. “It’s not just about visibility; it’s about trust.”

But even as they expanded their media empire, the Rockefellers were not immune to the challenges of the digital revolution.

By the early 1990s, the internet was no longer a fringe experiment; it was rapidly becoming a mainstream phenomenon. David, now in his eighties but as sharp as ever, convened another meeting to discuss the implications.

“We’re entering uncharted territory,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. “The internet is decentralizing information. Anyone with a computer can publish a story, share an idea, or spread a lie. How do we maintain influence in a world like that?”

A young advisor, fresh from Stanford, chimed in. “We adapt. The internet isn’t just a threat; it’s an opportunity. Social networks, search engines, e-commerce—these are the new gatekeepers. If we invest wisely, we can shape this ecosystem from the ground up.”

David’s eyes lit up. “Then we’ll invest. But remember: subtlety. Always subtlety.”

Chapter 12: The Digital Age

By the late 1990s, Rockefeller-funded initiatives were quietly shaping the digital age.

Through partnerships with universities and venture capital firms, they backed early internet ventures and emerging technologies. At the same time, their philanthropy shifted to include digital literacy programs and online education platforms.

“The narrative is evolving,” John remarked during a family retreat at Pocantico. “People trust what they see online more than what they read in a newspaper. We need to meet them where they are.”

One of their most significant moves was their involvement in the development of the World Wide Web’s infrastructure. While their name rarely appeared in public discussions, their money was there, funding research into data encryption, server technologies, and even early search engines.

“The beauty of this,” John mused to an advisor, “is that the internet democratizes information. But even democracies need architects.”

Not everyone was convinced. Critics accused the family of trying to co-opt the very tools that were meant to dismantle traditional power structures.

“They’re just dressing up control as progress,” said one journalist in an exposé that ran in a minor outlet. “The Rockefellers are building the infrastructure of the future, but make no mistake: They’ll own it.”

David, reading the piece in his office, chuckled softly. “They think they’ve caught us,” he said to his assistant. “But all they’ve done is prove our point. Information is power.”

Conclusion: The Game

As the new millennium dawned, the Rockefeller family had once again adapted to the shifting sands of history.

Their investments in media, education, and technology ensured that their influence remained pervasive, even as the world changed around them.

“This isn’t just about preserving a legacy,” David said during what would be one of his final strategy sessions. “It’s about shaping the future. Not just for us, but for everyone. The question is whether they’ll see it that way.”

And so, as the internet reshaped society and the 24-hour news cycle became the norm, the Rockefellers remained at the center of the story. Not always in the spotlight, but always in the room. Always pulling the strings.

As David looked out over the New York skyline one last time, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of satisfaction. The world had changed, but the game remained the same.

And the Rockefellers, as always, were playing to win.

You just don’t know they’re playing.