was socially responsible to the extent of his literally unlimited authority. If he voted the impossible, the disastrous possible happened instead — and responsibility was then forced on him willy-nilly and destroyed both him and his foundationless temple.
“Superficially, our system is only slightly different; we have democracy unlimited by race, color, creed, birth, wealth, sex, or conviction, and anyone may win sovereign power by a usually short and not too arduous term of service — nothing more than a light workout to our cave-man ancestors. But that slight difference is one between a system that works, since it is constructed to match the facts, and one that is inherently unstable. Since sovereign franchise is the ultimate in human authority, we insure that all who wield it accept the ultimate in social responsibility — we require each person who wishes to exert control over the state to wager his own life — and lose it, if need be — to save the life of the state. The maximum responsibility a human can accept is thus equated to the ultimate authority a human can exert. Yin and yang, perfect and equal.”
The Major added, “Can anyone define why there has never been revolution against our system? Despite the fact that every government in history has had such? Despite the notorious fact that complaints are loud and unceasing?”
One of the older cadets took a crack at it. “Sir, revolution is impossible.”
“Yes. But why?”
“Because revolution — armed uprising — requires not only dissatisfaction but aggressiveness. A revolutionist has to be willing to fight and die — or he’s just a parlor pink. If you separate out the aggressive ones and make them the sheep dogs, the sheep will never give you trouble.”
“Nicely put! Analogy is always suspect, but that one is close to the facts. Bring me a mathematical proof tomorrow. Time for one more question — you ask it and I’ll answer. Anyone?”
“Uh, sir, why not go — well, go the limit? Require everyone to serve and let everybody vote?”
“Young man, can you restore my eyesight?”
“Sir? Why, no, sir!”
“You would find it much easier than to instill moral virtue — social responsibility — into a person who doesn’t have it, doesn’t want it, and resents having the burden thrust on him. This is why we make it so hard to enroll, so easy to resign. Social responsibility above the level of family, or at most of tribe, requires imagination — devotion, loyalty, all the higher virtues — which a man must develop himself; if he has them forced down him, he will vomit them out. Conscript armies have been tried in the past. Look up in the library the psychiatric report on brainwashed prisoners in the so-called ‘Korean War,’ circa 1950 — the Mayor Report. Bring an analysis to class.” He touched his watch. “Dismissed.”
Major Reid gave us a busy time.
But it was interesting. I caught one of those master’s-thesis assignments he chucked around so casually; I had suggested that the Crusades were different from most wars. I got sawed off and handed this:
Without debating the usefulness or morality of planned parenthood, it may be verified by observation that any breed which stops its own increase gets crowded out by breeds which expand. Some human populations did so, in Terran history, and other breeds moved in and engulfed them.
Nevertheless, let’s assume that the human race manages to balance birth and death, just right to fit its own planets, and thereby becomes peaceful. What happens?
Soon (about next Wednesday) the Bugs move in, kill off this breed which “ain’ta gonna study war no more” and the universe forgets us. Which still may happen. Either we spread and wipe out the Bugs, or they spread and wipe us out — because both races are tough and smart and want the same real estate.
Do you know how fast population pressure could cause us to fill the entire universe shoulder to shoulder? The answer will astound you, just the flicker of an eye in terms of the age of our race.
Try it — it’s a compound-interest expansion.
But does Man have any “right” to spread through the universe?
Man is what he is, a wild animal with the will to survive, and (so far) the ability, against all competition. Unless one accepts that, anything one says about morals, war, politics — you name it — is nonsense. Correct morals arise from knowing what Man
The universe will let us know — later — whether or not Man has any “right” to expand through it.
In the meantime the M.I. will be in there, on the bounce and swinging, on the side of our own race.
Toward the end each of us was shipped out to serve under an experienced combat commander. This was a semifinal examination, your ’board-ship instructor could decide that you didn’t have what it takes. You could demand a board but I never heard of anybody who did; they either came back with an upcheck — or we never saw them again.
Some hadn’t failed; it was just that they were killed — because assignments were to ships about to go into action. We were required to keep kit bags packed — once at lunch, all the cadet officers of my company were tapped; they left without eating and I found myself cadet company commander.
Like boot chevrons, this is an uncomfortable honor, but in less than two days my own call came.
I bounced down to the Commandant’s office, kit bag over my shoulder and feeling grand. I was sick of late hours and burning eyes and never catching up, of looking stupid in class; a few weeks in the cheerful company of a combat team was just what Johnnie needed!
I passed some new cadets, trotting to class in close formation, each with the grim look that every O.C.S. candidate gets when he realizes that possibly he made a mistake in bucking for officer, and I found myself singing. I shut up when I was within earshot of the office.
Two others were there, Cadets Hassan and Byrd. Hassan the Assassin was the oldest man in our class and looked like something a fisherman had let out of a bottle, while Birdie wasn’t much bigger than a sparrow and about as intimidating.
We were ushered into the Holy of Holies. The Commandant was in his wheel chair — we never saw him out of it except Saturday inspection and parade, I guess walking hurt. But that didn’t mean you didn’t see him — you could be working a prob at the board, turn around and find that wheel chair behind you, and Colonel Nielssen reading your mistakes.
He never interrupted — there was a standing order not to shout “Attention!” But it’s disconcerting. There seemed to be about six of him.
The Commandant had a permanent rank of fleet general (yes,
Well, as Ace says, it takes all sorts — I can’t imagine choosing half pay for the privilege of riding herd on cadets.
Colonel Nielssen looked up and said, “Morning, gentlemen. Make yourselves comfortable.” I sat down but wasn’t comfortable. He glided over to a coffee machine, drew four cups, and Hassan helped him deal them out. I didn’t want coffee but a cadet doesn’t refuse the Commandant’s hospitality.
He took a sip. “I have your orders, gentlemen,” he announced, “and your temporary commissions.” He went on, “But I want to be sure you understand your status.”
We had already been lectured about this. We were going to be officers just enough for instruction and testing—“supernumerary, probationary, and temporary.” Very junior, quite superfluous, on good behavior, and extremely temporary; we would revert to cadet when we got back and could be busted at any time by the officers
