Standing rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, yes. Evil communism forces everyone into what the state wants and socialism is elective.”
“Wrong,” she replied. “Communism is the end game of socialism. Communism is the theoretical, stateless utopia where mankind has been perfected to the point where government is no longer needed.
“A completely voluntary communist society stems from the Marxist theory of evolution. For the Marxists, the communist utopia is the apex of human development-a time at which man has genetically evolved out of his selfish ways and consistently acts toward the common good, completely of his own volition. To get from capitalism to the hypothetical utopia of pure communism, society must be subjected to the tyranny of socialism. That’s where people make their mistake in describing the two philosophies. They think socialism is voluntary and communism is involuntary when actually the reverse is true.
“So in the interim phase between selfish capitalism and selfless communism we have socialism. Under socialism, mankind, for its own supposed good, is subjected to the authority of dictatorship, an enlightened ruling class of elites who control the human environment in egalitarian terms in order that they may steer the proper genetic evolution of mankind.”
Standing looked at her. “You are such an attractive woman, I could almost believe anything you say. I think that’s why FOX News has been so successful.”
“You are changing the subject, Mr. Standing,” said Julia.
“I haven’t changed it, my dear. You have. Don’t you believe in justice? Don’t you believe in people not being allowed to game the system?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then why are you so against making the world a better, more equitable place for all of us?” Standing asked. “You have given me the usual shallow, shopworn defense of capitalism, but you haven’t given me one concrete reason why my ideas are so unreasonable.”
“One concrete reason?” the reporter replied. “I can actually give you four. First, it is morally wrong to take anything that doesn’t belong to you and having the state do the taking doesn’t magically make it okay or right. Second, socialism has been tried repeatedly and has never worked, anywhere. Yet each new crop of elites think they can enact socialism and this time it will be different. They stick the socialist fork back in the electrical outlet expecting a totally different outcome, but it always ends up the same.
“Third, when people become reliant on the state, that reliance erodes their self-respect, their sense of self- worth, their work ethic, and their independence. Finally, socialism promotes class envy and class warfare. The makers resent the takers for draining their resources and the takers resent the makers because no matter how much the takers take, they always want more. They erroneously believe that the makers have an abundant supply from which they should be continuously compelled to give. But, as Maggie Thatcher so aptly put it, the problem with socialism is that eventually you run out of other people’s money.”
Standing shook his head. “I’m afraid you have misunderstood me, my dear.”
“You know what, Mr. Standing? At first calling me my dear was cute. You reminded me of my grandfather, but now I find it patronizing.”
The billionaire liked that he had gotten under her skin, but he didn’t like being compared to her grandfather.
“And as far as misunderstanding you,” she continued, “I haven’t. I understand you all too well. Listening to you speak, I keep remembering that old Chinese proverb. Give a person a fish, and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a person to fish, and he’ll eat for a lifetime. Your problem is that you want to give everyone fish. If you really cared about human dignity, you’d be giving everyone fishing lessons.”
Standing shook his head once more. Why was this so hard for these flatearth types to understand? “Despite everything we’ve talked about, despite the disproportionate number of haves versus have nots, the inequitable distribution of wealth, all of it, you’ve never had one doubt about capitalism? You can look me in the eye and tell me that somehow greed and self-interest are good things?”
“All I know, Mr. Standing, is that there is no perfect place where greed doesn’t exist. In fact, the greater the government control, the more greed there is. The people who are the worst off in our world don’t live under capitalism, they live in societies that have turned away from or are prevented from embracing capitalism and free trade. So you’ll pardon me for saying so, but what you’re proposing isn’t going to make the world a better place. If you were successful at doing what you say you’d like to do, it would make the world a much, much worse place, and I pray to God it never happens.”
“God,” said Standing with a derisive sniff. “You see the state our planet is in and you still believe in God. You really aren’t very bright, are you?” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“I’m bright enough to realize that now that you’ve made your money and are one of the wealthiest people in the world, you’ve abandoned the ideas that got you here and have replaced them with fantasies of a classless utopia,” said the reporter as she stood up.
The billionaire was taken by surprise. “What’s going on?”
“Thank you for the wine.”
Was she leaving? “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Back to my office to finish writing my article.”
“I asked you to dinner and expect you to stay for all of it,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as he took hold of her arm. “Sit down.”
“You’ve got less than two seconds to take your hand off of me, Mr. Standing. I promise you that I’ll snap your wrist before your security team even knows what has happened. I can only imagine that bones break very easily in a man of your age and take very long to heal.”
How dare she? Standing was enraged, yet he forced a smile onto his face and removed his hand from her arm. People in the crowded restaurant were watching. “Let’s not embarrass ourselves. I’m sure we can find something else to talk about.”
Sliding out of her chair, Julia Winston forced her own smile. “Good night, Mr. Standing.”
As she walked away, Standing got in the last word, uttering it loud enough for her to hear. “Bitch.”
He snapped his fingers to get the attention of his security detail and indicated that he was ready to leave. He’d be damned if he would suffer the additional embarrassment of sitting at his table and dining by himself like some lonely old man.
His waiter rushed over. “Is everything all right, Mr. Standing?”
“Everything is fine, Jeffery,” he said, a less-than-convincing smile upon his lips. “Something has come up and we won’t be able to dine with you tonight.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.” Looking at the three-thousand-dollar bottle of wine, he added, “What would you like to do with the Montrachet?”
Though he would only pour it down the drain once he got home, Standing certainly wasn’t going to gift such an expensive bottle of wine to a mere waiter. “Put a cork in it and give it to Max,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the head of his security detail. He then stood up from the table and headed for the front of the restaurant. He had no idea that his evening was about to go from bad to worse.
As he climbed into his armored Denali, Standing’s encrypted cell phone rang.
CHAPTER 33
Standing told his driver and security team to stand on the sidewalk while he sat in the Denali and took the call. He didn’t want anyone to listen to him speaking to Robert Ashford.
“I’m afraid I have bad news,” said the MI5 operative.
“You seem to be in the bad-news business a lot lately, Robert,” replied Standing. “It’s starting to become a habit I don’t care for.”
And Ashford didn’t care for the rebuke, but he held his tongue. Standing had too much incriminating leverage stacked against him. He decided to get right to the point. “I’ve received word that the rabbit hutch was compromised.”
Standing had expected the conversation to be about what had happened in L.A., not about Mustafa Karami
