Malaaina
28-02-2008, 12:20
18 August 1960
Being a Republican Party Prime Minister of Mala’aina was not a position suited to humble men and, whatever else they might say of him, no one had ever accused Lorrin Dole of humility. His party, after all, had continuously held government ever since the Cooper Liberal Government had fallen in 1845 as a direct result of Cooper’s proactive reconstruction program in the wake of the abolition of slavery. His family had sat in Cabinet two years out of every three ever since his ancestor, Crister Dole, had been a leading figure in the Republican Revolution led by Shieldian and other European planets and businessmen against the native monarchy. Dole himself had also known only success and prominence ever since he was a schoolboy. His attitude was not one he hid well. The slim, perpetually well-dressed man carried himself rather proudly, his shoulders back, his nose pointed slightly upward as though he were speaking down to anyone he addressed. It was certainly the impression he gave now, sitting at the head of the table in the Parliamentary Library, the head of a Party with a large majority in its own right, addressing a collection of Opposition and Crossbench leaders which he could not help but think of as a rabble.
Dole’s eye moved first to those faces which, as far as he was concerned, did not belong. Alice Burns, a relatively pretty woman with regular features and the mannerisms of a well-bred Mala’ainan woman caught his eye first and he inclined his head towards her. The personal distaste he felt for the Miss Burns’s National Women’s Party, which held a mere five votes in the House of Representatives, would not let him behave as other than a gentleman. To the only other woman in the room, Dole made no such courtesy. Kathleen Henry was one of the five representatives chosen in special elections to bring the concerns of the largely disenfranchised 9% of Mala’aina’s population which was of African descent to the attention of the Parliament and she was the first to do so through an independent political party. However, her New Alternative Party only commanded three of those five seats with the other two supporting the Government. The third face to catch Dole’s eye was that of Albert Keekaniau, the perpetual leader of the Royalist Party and champion of the long deposed native dynasty who commanded all five indigenous seats.
If Dole found Burns, Henry and Keekaniau particularly out of place, his scorn for the rest of the group was only slightly milder. Cold, dismissive eyes surveyed John Baker, the aging Socialist Leader; Andrew Carter, the aristocratic leader of the Liberals; and Colonel William Emmeluth, the Progressive Party’s flamboyant hero; Robert Christensen, the gruff leader of the Farmer-Labour Party; and Victor Stedman, the dour Christian Democrat. His feeling was somewhat natural for the leader of a party with a large majority confronted not even with a weak opposition but with a spattering of tiny parties, fighting one another as hard as they ever fought the Government. Keeping that thought in mind, Dole turned his attention to the Leader of the Opposition proper, Mr. Thomas Weaver, an exhausted, sweating old man whose political death loomed over his caucus.
Dole spoke slowly, as befitted a man who had no cause whatsoever for concern. “So, I am to understand that you asked to speak with me because you are no longer capable of forming an opposition?”
Weaver swallowed and glanced down, unable to meet Dole’s gaze. Emmeluth, a man known to always speak as though certain of victory despite his party’s constant defeats, interjected himself into the conversation in a rather brash tone which almost, almost mind you, made Dole feel sorry for Weaver. “Absolutely. There’s no way we can form a Shadow Cabinet with this bloke or caucus with him and the rules, as currently written, insist that the Leader of the Opposition must enjoy the support of a majority of members who did not vote with the Government in the last confidence vote. In other words, the Opposition proper has to be larger than the Crossbench.” Weaver looked like he was holding back tears. A situation like this, unable even to sit in Opposition properly, was humiliating for the leader of the nation’s second largest party and fundamentally undermined his chances of convincing the voters he was capable of winning elections now or ever and it was a humiliation which Emmeluth relished more than Dole.
Being a Republican Party Prime Minister of Mala’aina was not a position suited to humble men and, whatever else they might say of him, no one had ever accused Lorrin Dole of humility. His party, after all, had continuously held government ever since the Cooper Liberal Government had fallen in 1845 as a direct result of Cooper’s proactive reconstruction program in the wake of the abolition of slavery. His family had sat in Cabinet two years out of every three ever since his ancestor, Crister Dole, had been a leading figure in the Republican Revolution led by Shieldian and other European planets and businessmen against the native monarchy. Dole himself had also known only success and prominence ever since he was a schoolboy. His attitude was not one he hid well. The slim, perpetually well-dressed man carried himself rather proudly, his shoulders back, his nose pointed slightly upward as though he were speaking down to anyone he addressed. It was certainly the impression he gave now, sitting at the head of the table in the Parliamentary Library, the head of a Party with a large majority in its own right, addressing a collection of Opposition and Crossbench leaders which he could not help but think of as a rabble.
Dole’s eye moved first to those faces which, as far as he was concerned, did not belong. Alice Burns, a relatively pretty woman with regular features and the mannerisms of a well-bred Mala’ainan woman caught his eye first and he inclined his head towards her. The personal distaste he felt for the Miss Burns’s National Women’s Party, which held a mere five votes in the House of Representatives, would not let him behave as other than a gentleman. To the only other woman in the room, Dole made no such courtesy. Kathleen Henry was one of the five representatives chosen in special elections to bring the concerns of the largely disenfranchised 9% of Mala’aina’s population which was of African descent to the attention of the Parliament and she was the first to do so through an independent political party. However, her New Alternative Party only commanded three of those five seats with the other two supporting the Government. The third face to catch Dole’s eye was that of Albert Keekaniau, the perpetual leader of the Royalist Party and champion of the long deposed native dynasty who commanded all five indigenous seats.
If Dole found Burns, Henry and Keekaniau particularly out of place, his scorn for the rest of the group was only slightly milder. Cold, dismissive eyes surveyed John Baker, the aging Socialist Leader; Andrew Carter, the aristocratic leader of the Liberals; and Colonel William Emmeluth, the Progressive Party’s flamboyant hero; Robert Christensen, the gruff leader of the Farmer-Labour Party; and Victor Stedman, the dour Christian Democrat. His feeling was somewhat natural for the leader of a party with a large majority confronted not even with a weak opposition but with a spattering of tiny parties, fighting one another as hard as they ever fought the Government. Keeping that thought in mind, Dole turned his attention to the Leader of the Opposition proper, Mr. Thomas Weaver, an exhausted, sweating old man whose political death loomed over his caucus.
Dole spoke slowly, as befitted a man who had no cause whatsoever for concern. “So, I am to understand that you asked to speak with me because you are no longer capable of forming an opposition?”
Weaver swallowed and glanced down, unable to meet Dole’s gaze. Emmeluth, a man known to always speak as though certain of victory despite his party’s constant defeats, interjected himself into the conversation in a rather brash tone which almost, almost mind you, made Dole feel sorry for Weaver. “Absolutely. There’s no way we can form a Shadow Cabinet with this bloke or caucus with him and the rules, as currently written, insist that the Leader of the Opposition must enjoy the support of a majority of members who did not vote with the Government in the last confidence vote. In other words, the Opposition proper has to be larger than the Crossbench.” Weaver looked like he was holding back tears. A situation like this, unable even to sit in Opposition properly, was humiliating for the leader of the nation’s second largest party and fundamentally undermined his chances of convincing the voters he was capable of winning elections now or ever and it was a humiliation which Emmeluth relished more than Dole.