It is virtually impossible to encounter a well-read individual who has not at least heard of John Coleman’s seminal work, The Committee of Three Hundred. For many, this book is not merely a title that rings a bell—it’s a text they have delved into, pondered over, and perhaps even debated.
First published in English in 1991, the book has since undergone numerous reprints, some featuring updates and additions from Coleman himself. Its reach has extended far beyond its original language, with translations into a plethora of tongues, cementing its status as a global phenomenon.
John Coleman, born in 1935 in the United States, is a figure whose life story adds significant weight to his claims. A former operative of Britain’s MI6 intelligence service, Coleman spent years immersed in the shadowy world of espionage before turning his attention to writing. Over the past four decades or so, he has produced an impressive body of work—by his own account in 2006, this included over 500 books and articles. Yet among this prolific output, The Committee of Three Hundred stands out as his magnum opus, arguably the most famous and influential book of its kind worldwide. Coleman asserts that the book draws heavily on his firsthand experiences within MI6, as well as on privileged information unavailable to the general public. At its core, the work unveils the existence of a clandestine organization—the titular “Committee of Three Hundred”—comprised of a select group of global elites bent on dominating the world.
According to Coleman, this Committee traces its origins back roughly 150 years, emerging as the successor to the Council of 300, a group of key shareholders in the British East India Company (EIC). Founded in 1600 under a charter from Queen Elizabeth I, the EIC was a colossal entity that wielded immense economic and political power until its dissolution in 1874. By that time, Coleman contends, the Council of 300 had already entrenched its influence, controlling the economies of numerous nations and dominating global markets for various commodities. Through the establishment of banks and corporations across diverse sectors, these shareholders laid the groundwork for what would become the Committee of Three Hundred. This new entity inherited and expanded upon the Council’s ambitions, presiding over a British colonial empire that spanned a quarter of the world’s population—an empire so vast that it was famously said the sun never set upon it.
The ultimate aim of the Committee, as outlined by Coleman, is nothing less than the establishment of a One World State governed by a single, all-powerful One World Government, with the Committee itself at the helm. Even in the days of the EIC, its leaders sought global domination, achieving partial success. The Committee of Three Hundred, however, has taken this mission further, relentlessly pursuing it into the present day. To realize this vision, the Committee employs an extensive and multifaceted arsenal: financial systems, military might, mass media, narcotics, cultural manipulation (or rather, the promotion of an anti-culture or counterculture), religious distortion (including pseudo-religions and outright Satanism), and intelligence agencies like MI6. The Committee’s strategy involves installing its operatives in pivotal governmental roles to consolidate power. Simultaneously, it seeks to control the masses by reshaping their consciousness through tools such as media propaganda, pagan cults, sexual permissiveness, drug proliferation, and other elements of counterculture.
For those who have read Coleman’s book, these ideas are familiar territory. Yet what sets Coleman apart is his perspective—he is no mere chronicler of events. Throughout The Committee of Three Hundred, his voice carries the conviction of a committed Christian, one who views the Committee as a cabal of Satanists. To Coleman, this group is not just a political or economic threat but a spiritual one, fully aware that Christianity poses the greatest obstacle to its plans. Consequently, the Committee seeks to eradicate it, often by substituting it with occult alternatives and counterfeit belief systems. Coleman’s concern extends beyond the fate of his faith; he fears for humanity as a whole, warning that the Committee’s neo-Malthusian faction intends to physically eliminate much of the global population.
As an American, Coleman’s anxieties are particularly acute when it comes to the United States. His patriotism shines through, revealing a deep-seated love for his country and a distress over its trajectory. Political analysts often note that U.S. presidents appear constrained by “external circumstances,” making decisions that seem suboptimal for the nation and its people. While some attribute this to presidential missteps, Coleman offers a far more radical interpretation. He argues, with a wealth of examples, that American presidents—particularly in the 20th century—do not serve the interests of their country or its citizens. Instead, they act as puppets, executing the directives of the Committee of Three Hundred.
Coleman contrasts this modern era of subservience with an earlier time when U.S. leaders embodied a more independent, patriotic spirit. He points to figures like Andrew Jackson, the seventh president (1829–1837), who famously thwarted the creation of a Central Bank that would have granted the Council of 300 a stranglehold over America’s finances. Jackson survived multiple assassination attempts, ultimately dying of natural causes. Similarly, Abraham Lincoln, the 16th president, defied the Council’s banking interests, only to meet a tragic end in 1865—assassinated, Coleman asserts, on the orders of those same financial powers.
By the 20th century, however, Coleman contends that most American presidents had fallen under the Committee’s sway. He cites Lyndon LaRouche, another American patriot, who identified Theodore Roosevelt and Woodrow Wilson as key figures in cementing the Committee’s control. LaRouche argued that these presidents facilitated the passage of the Federal Reserve Act, effectively handing America’s economic sovereignty to the Committee and its affiliates, including the New York Council on Foreign Relations—an offshoot of the London Round Table. This “liberal establishment” of the U.S. East Coast, often cloaked in the guise of aristocratic “patricians” or “economic royalists,” has since dominated academia, media, entertainment, and publishing, shaping the nation’s direction to align with the Committee’s goals.
Intriguingly, Coleman notes that U.S. authorities do not entirely conceal their role in forging a “new world order” culminating in a One World State. They cultivate a narrative that positions America—and by extension, its citizens—as the primary beneficiaries of this global empire, a modern Pax Americana. Yet Coleman dismisses this as a delusion, a carefully crafted illusion to stifle resistance. In reality, he warns, the true winners will be the Committee’s elite members and their inner circle, while ordinary Americans face a grim fate: either deemed “surplus” and slated for elimination or reduced to servitude in this new world order.
The Committee’s agenda finds expression through entities like the Club of Rome, founded by David Rockefeller, a purported Committee luminary. This organization issues “recommendations” designed to hasten the One World State’s realization—policies such as population control, industrial stagnation (disguised as a shift to a “post-industrial society”), and the erosion of national sovereignty through privatization, open borders, and unrestricted global flows of goods, capital, and labor. Initially, some assumed these measures targeted only developing nations, sparing America as an exemplar of progress. Coleman counters that America itself has become a testing ground, a model for implementing these directives since the 1960s—a process he describes as national “suicide.”
This transformation, Coleman argues, began with the counterculture revolution of the mid-20th century. He meticulously details how the Committee orchestrated the rise of punk, hippie culture, rock music (epitomized by the Beatles), the sexual revolution, widespread drug use, and escalating crime—all aimed at resetting American society. As a global trendsetter, America’s upheaval rippled outward, influencing the world. Economically, the Committee pushed deindustrialization, with figures like Etienne Davignon overseeing the decline of industries such as steel, automotive, shipbuilding, and agriculture. Coleman laments the deliberate dismantling of America’s once-proud maritime sector and the sabotage of nuclear energy development, both aligning with the Club of Rome’s “zero growth” ethos.
In The Committee of Three Hundred, Coleman paints a dire picture of a world teetering on the edge of tyranny, driven by a shadowy elite he believes he has unmasked. His work is both a warning and a call to awareness, rooted in his unique vantage point as an insider turned whistleblower, a Christian, and an American patriot fearful for his nation’s soul. Whether one accepts his conclusions or not, the book’s enduring popularity attests to its power to provoke thought and stir debate about the forces shaping our world.
