The confirmation of Kevin Warsh as the new Chairman of the Federal Reserve Board of Governors has, unsurprisingly, reenergized some Federal Reserve conspiracy theorists. And while I enjoy a good conspiracy theory as much as the next guy (I’m probably somewhere between Bill Maher and Alex Jones on the Tinfoil Hat Index), there’s a different aspect to the Fed’s origin that I find more interesting: legislative incompetence isn’t exactly a recent phenomenon.

Back in 1910, a small group of politicians and private bankers met under the cover of a South Georgia duck hunting trip to draft what became known as the Aldrich Plan (named after Senator Nelson Aldrich). That plan would eventually morph into the Federal Reserve Act of 1913. More than a century later, plenty of people still subscribe to a fairly sophisticated conspiracy theory surrounding that meeting, most famously laid out in G. Edward Griffin’s 1994 book, The Creature from Jekyll Island.

Conspiracy theorists love The Creature—and for good reason. Like many enduring conspiracy narratives, it weaves together some elements of accurate history with broader conclusions that mainstream historians and economists vigorously dispute.

But what I find most fascinating about this secret group of gathering and powerful men is what it revealed about Congress: over a hundred years ago its exposed the naïve, tribal nature of legislative decision-making. Twenty-five years after the secret Jekyll Island meeting, one of the attendees, Frank Vanderlip, admitted that secrecy was key to the plan’s success. Had Congress known who actually wrote it, the bill likely would have had no chance of passing.

Think about that. Some of the most powerful men in the world understood that, in total, members of Congress would not evaluate the text of a complex banking bill.

Instead, they’d make their decisions based purely on who supported or opposed the legislation. And since the same party controlled the House, Senate, and White House, the architects only needed to persuade a couple of key people—the Speaker of the House and the Senate Majority Leader—and the rest would reliably fall in line. Just like they were supposed to. Just like the six men at Jekyll Island expected.

Tribalism was as prevalent in Washington in 1913 as it is today.

That’s a shame, but perhaps that’s simply how it must be. Or how it’s always been. Few members of Congress, if any, actually read the bills on which they vote.  They rely on someone else to signal—or outright tell them—how they’re supposed to vote. I suppose that frees up their valuable time for the truly important government work, like attending protests and posting on social media.

David Moon is president of Moon Capital Management. A version of this piece originally appeared in the USA TODAY NETWORK.