A Matter for Men

TWENTY-SIX

"ALL RIGHT," said Whitlaw. "Obviously, there was a point to that little exercise. No, put your hands down. I'm just going to give you this straight out. There's no such thing as a government."

He looked around the room. "Point to it. Show me the government. Show me any government." He waved our hands down again. "Forget it. You can't. You can show me some buildings, and some people and some rules written down on paper, but you can't show me a government. Because there's no such thing in the physical universe. It's just something we made up. It exists only by our agreement that it does. You just proved that here. We agreed that we wanted some stuff managed and we agreed on some rules for how it should be managed. The agreements are the government. Nothing else.

"How big the government gets depends on how many agreements you make. If enough people agree, we'll build some buildings and hire some people to work in them and manage the agreements for us. Now, here's the question-how do you know if something is the business of the government or not?-that is, the business of the people we've hired to work in our buildings and manage our agreements for us. How do they know what to manage? What's the test?

"No-put your hand down. It's too simple. A person, place, or thing is in the jurisdiction of a government if it tests that government's agreements. If it doesn't, it isn't.

"The government doesn't have to manage the people who keep the agreements. They don't need managing. They're being responsible. It is the business of the government to manage those people who test the agreements. This is it. The whole of government consists of the art of managing people to keep the agreements-especially those who do the managing."

Whitlaw moved thoughtfully to the back of the room. He sounded as if he were speculating idly aloud. "Now ... management is decision-making, right? Anyone not see that? So, the question is-what are the guidelines by which the managers make their decisions? What is the meter-stick?" He looked around at us.

Marcie something-or-other: "The agreements, of course. The rules."

Whitlaw snorted. "Not bloody likely. The rules are just the context-the authorization for the decisions. In fact, the history of this nation is about men and women not following the rules. History is a list of who tested what agreements.

"Every time an agreement is tested, the person whose responsibility that agreement is, is also being tested. So, what does that person use for guidelines?-particularly when there are no guidelines! What is the source of that person's choice?" Whitlaw shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and turned slowly around, making sure we were all paying attention. When he spoke, his voice was low and quiet. "The truth is that ultimately every single choice ... is a reflection of the integrity of the individual making it."

"You might want to notice that-that everything we've done in this country, everything that we've accomplished-good or bad -in nearly two and a half centuries, has been done out of the integrity-or lack of integrity---of people like ourselves who are willing to make decisions and be responsible for them, especially when they know those decisions will be unpopular."

I wondered what he was working toward. He wandered back to the front of the room and sat down on his desk, facing us with an anticipatory expression on his face.

"Do you think the Moscow Treaties were fair?" he asked abruptly.

The class was divided. Some thought yes, some thought no. Most weren't sure.

Whitlaw said, "Well, let's look at it from the rest of the world's point of view. How do you think we looked to them?"

"We're the home of the free, the land of the brave-all the refugees come here." That was Richard Kham Tuong. He had almond eyes, brown skin and curly blond hair. He said it proudly. "People come here looking for freedom. We're a source of hope."

"Uh huh," said Whitlaw, unconvinced. He stood up and strode casually back to stand directly in front of Richard Kham Tuong. "Let me run some statistics by you. One half of the world's population goes to bed hungry every night. There are nearly six billion people on this planet-but the three hundred million who are lucky enough to live in the United States consume one-third of the planet's resources every year. For most of the last century, it was closer to one-half, by the way. Do you think that's fair?"

"Uh . . ." Richard recognized that as a loaded question and did the only thing he could. He stalled.

"Or let me try it another way," Whitlaw went on. He was sandbagging Richard now; we all knew it. "Suppose we order a couple of pizzas for this class. There are twenty-two very thin slices in a pizza, so there should be just enough for everybody to have a little bit. But when they arrive, I take fifteen of the slices for myself and leave the rest of you to fight over what's left. Is that fair?"

"You're loading the question, sir. Obviously, the way you say it, it's not fair."

"Well, what do you think we should do about it?"

"Everything we can, I guess."

"All right. Let's see. Are you willing to give up all of your clothes except what you're wearing now? Are you willing to survive on one meal of rice and beans per day? Are you willing to give up your automobile? And all use of electricity? Because that's the kind of sacrifice it would take-every single American would have to give up that much before we would be able to start paying back our debt to other nations. Are you ready to agree to that?"

There was silence in the classroom. Nobody wanted to be the first to admit it.

"It's all right," encouraged Whitlaw. "You'll notice I'm not ready to go hungry either."

"Okay, so we're selfish-what's the point?"

"That is the point. That's how we look to the rest of the world. Like pigs. Rich and fat and selfish. Let's go back to the pizza analogy. Here I am sitting with my fifteen slices. Are you going to let me get away with it?"

"Of course not."

"Then you think you're justified in restricting me?"

"Of course."

"All right, now you understand part of what the Moscow Treaties were about. Yes, there was a war-and the Moscow Treaties were aimed at the causes of it. A very large part of it was the perception that the United States had been selfish with the world's resources."

"Wait a minute!" Paul Jastrow said. "That's only in the eyes of the other nations. There's another side to that argument, isn't there?"

"I don't know," Whitlaw said innocently, his blue eyes twinkling. "Is there? You tell me."

Paul Jastrow sat down, frowning. He had to think about this. Joey Hubre raised his hand. "Sir, I read somewhere that the problems that the United States has been experiencing for most of our history have been the problems of success, not failure."

"So?"

"Well ... I mean, um, I hope I get this right. The article said that the size of a success is proportional to the amount of energy invested, and that all of the technological advances that have occurred in this country could have only occurred because of the huge amount of resources available to apply to the problems."

"And-?"

"Well, the point was that this justified our prodigious energy appetite. You have to put fuel in the jet if you want it to go. The other nations in the world have benefited from our advances. They can buy the fruits of the technology without having to invest in all the research. Um, the article used energy satellites as the example. A poor nation-a landbound one-doesn't have to develop a whole space program to have an energy station in space. They can buy one from us for only two million caseys. It was the United States that spent billions of caseys developing the industrial use of space, but everybody benefits."

"I see-and that justifies it?"

"Would it have been better for us to have spent that money on food for the poor? We'd still have lots of poor people today, but we wouldn't have energy stations in space. And those energy stations may eventually make it possible for poor nations to feed all their people."

Whitlaw kept his face blank. "If you were one of those poor people, Joey, how would you feel about that? No, let me be even more graphic. If you were a poor farmer, and your wife and three children were so malnourished that together the five of you weighed less than a hundred kilos, how would you feel about that?"

"Uh . . ." Joey sat down too.

Where was Whitlaw going with this? A lot of people were starting to get angry. Were we wrong for enjoying what we had? Paul Jastrow spoke up for all of us. He was slouched low in his chair and had his arms folded angrily across his chest. "It's our money," he said. "Don't we have the right to say how we want to spend it?"

"Sounds good to me-except what if it isn't all your money? Remember, we've been consuming nearly one-half the world's resources for most of a century. What if it's their money too?"

"But it wasn't their money-it was their resources. And they sold them to us on a free market."

"A free market which they claim we manipulated to our advantage."

"And they haven't manipulated back?"

"Ah, I didn't say that." Whitlaw was trying to keep a careful neutrality. He held up a hand. "I don't want to repeat the whole argument-that's not what we're going for today-but are you beginning to understand the nature of the disagreement? Do you see the validity of both points of view?"

A general murmur of assent swept the room.

"Now," said Whitlaw, "we've seen how a group of people can make a decision that affects all of them, and that decision can still be unfair. Most of the nations on this planet think the Moscow Treaties were fair. Do you?"

We thought about it. Some of us shook our heads. "Why not?" Whitlaw pointed.

"Our economy was almost destroyed. It took us over a decade to recover."

"Then why did we agree to those treaties?"

"Because the alternative was war-"

"They had us outnumbered-"

"We didn't have a choice-"

"All right, all right-" He held up his hand again. "All of that is all very well and good-but I want you all to consider something else now. Isn't it possible that your perception of the treaties' unfairness is a biased perception, a product of your own subjective points of view?"

"Uh..."

"Well ... "

"Sure, but . . ."

"No." That was Paul Jastrow. Everybody turned to look at him. He said, "It doesn't matter how many people say it's right if it isn't. We just spent a whole session learning that everything a government does is going to be unfair to somebody, but a good government tries to minimize the unfairness."

"Uh huh. . . ." Whitlaw nodded. He was wearing his devil's advocate expression and using a pleasant, noncommittal tone of voice. "But isn't that what the Moscow Treaties were supposed to do? Establish a more equitable distribution of the world's resources?"

"Yes, but they did it wrong-they were confiscatory. And you just demonstrated to us that you can't redress old wrongs that way without creating new wrongs."

Whitlaw picked up his clipboard and made a note. "You're right." He sat down on the edge of his desk and did something very unusual-for Whitlaw. He lowered his voice. He said, "A large part of this course is supposed to be about the Moscow Treaties, so you'll understand why they were necessary. And I think now you understand why many Americans resented them. It felt like we were being unfairly punished for being successful. And it didn't matter to the other nations that all of our studies and data models and simulations showed that most of their starving populations were beyond saving-they still felt that they had to make that commitment to try-"

"But not with our resources-"

"Hush a moment, Paul," said Whitlaw, uncharacteristically polite. "Let me finish this. It didn't matter what we felt. We were outvoted. The other nations of this world were going to see that we cooperated whether we wanted to or not-because data simulations or no, they still had to try to save their starving populations. And yes, it was unfair the way it was done-and that's a large part of what I wanted you to realize-but that was the best solution they could come up with. And yes, it was a punitive one-"

He stopped to catch his breath. He looked a little gray. Janice MacNeil said, "How come it was never explained this way before? I mean, all the news ever said was that it was our own noble sacrifice to help the rest of the world. I never heard before that they were holding a gun to our heads."

"Well, which would you rather believe? That you're doing something because you're being charitable or because you're being forced to? If you were President, which would be easier to sell to the electorate?"

"Oh," she said. "But didn't anybody notice?"

"Sure, lots of people did. And they said so, very loudly-but nobody wanted to believe them. Remember, most people were so relieved at having avoided a nuclear war they were willing to believe that its non-occurrence was proof of the nobility of both sides. They were eager to believe it, rather than that someone had blackmailed someone else under the table. People who complained were called extremists; after all, you don't have to listen to extremists. It's easier than you think to devalue a truth that you don't want to hear. And remember this: any unpopular idea is going to look extreme, so you want to be responsible in how you present it. It is almost always dangerous to be right-and it is certainly dangerous to be right too soon."

"Well-um, does the government know now? I mean, what did we do about it? Or what are we going to do about it?"

Whitlaw said, "The process of making that decision has been going on for almost twenty years now. We are doing it every day. We are surviving. We are continuing-and we're contributing.

"You see, this is the hard part to accept. In retrospect-now that we have had the benefit of twenty years of hindsight-we can see that what was done was perhaps the very best thing to do under the circumstances. If you want to look at it from a nationalistic point of view, those treaties were only temporary setbacks, because they did not cripple us permanently. And furthermore, they made it possible for us to deal with the rest of the world in an atmosphere of reduced hostility because they finally felt they had evened the score.

"Now, you need to know just how we paid our reparations. We only shipped food and farm machinery; instead of cash, we gave them energy satellites and receiving stations. That way, they all had a vested interest in keeping our space program going. We shipped teachers and technicians. We exported ourselves-"

And suddenly, three years later and a thousand miles away, the coin dropped. Whitlaw had never come out and said so, but he had made it pretty clear that we had lost that war. And that we knew we had lost the war-and it seemed as if we had actively cooperated in the process of our own punishment. Or had we? There were a lot of government programs that only made sense in retrospect-like the Teamwork Army, for instance. That was only supposed to be a peacetime solution for massive unemployment-the regimen was exactly like that of the regular army, except they didn't drill with guns; but then, how long does it take to learn how to use a gun? Six weeks?

And the space program-as long as we had mass-drivers on the moon, there wasn't a city on Earth that was safe. We didn't need atom bombs-we could drop asteroids.

And all those shipments of food and farm machinery-that helped our economy more than theirs, because we got to retool our assembly lines to build a new generation of technology.

And all those energy satellites-every nation that accepted one would be dependent on us for its maintenance.

And our export of more than half a million teachers to the underprivileged nations-the next generation of world leaders would be taught with American values.

It made a crazy kind of sense. I could almost imagine the President saying, "What if we only pretended to lose?"

I thought of a lockbox with a false bottom and a suite of rooms on the thirteenth floor. You can't hide anything forever-you can only misdirect the attention of the searcher.

The rest of the world would be looking for evidence of military buildup-and we were hiding it as economic recovery and reparations and civilian solutions to unemployment! And the best part of it was that those things were always exactly what they seemed to be, even when they weren't.

And something else

Even Whitlaw's class had been a sham.

I'd always wondered why there was a Federal Education Authority. Now it made sense. Under the guise of teaching us history -how we had lost a war-Whitlaw was teaching us how to win the next one without ever fighting it. He'd taught us to outthink our enemies, because it was easier than outfighting them.

I felt like a grenade had gone off in my belly. A grenade that Whitlaw had shoved down my throat three years before and had taken this long to explode.

I'd never thought about the Special Forces before-they were just another military unit, one specifically trained for crisis deployment. I guess I'd thought that meant natural disasters and riots -I hadn't realized there was a second Special Forces hidden in the one place nobody would think to look: inside the regular Special Forces.

I realized that and my heart popped. What was the Special Forces really for? What had I been a part of?