Chapter 11 — PARDON

I returned to Jupiter a hero, again. This time my campaign for governor brought larger crowds than before. I was better known because of my prior campaign and my Gany success, and, of course, many people remembered my reputation from the Navy. In the interim the current governor had fouled things up in the usual manner, catering too openly to the special interests who had gotten him into office. He was running for reelection, so had the power of incumbency, but he was not otherwise a strong candidate. He saw me draw ahead of him in the polls, so he went the dirty route: smearing me as a Hispanic, a dealer with Saturnists, and a killer of hundreds. All true, of course, but it backfired, because the Sunshine electorate understood the circumstances and objected to the smear attempt. Angry Hispanics started a registration drive and added many thousands of voters; on election day their weight was felt in Ami and especially in Ybor. I won, not by any landslide, but comfortably enough, and I still had not succumbed to the lure of special-interest money.

As governor I had a lot more power and a lot more responsibility, and things were more complicated than they had been when I had been a senator. From the outset I received threatening letters from anti-Hispanic bigots who called me un-Jupiterian, by what logic I am uncertain. To my way of thinking the bigots are the un-Jupiterian ones. Coral had to keep alert, and she did intercept a letter bomb.

I started immediately, setting up committees to formulate the reforms I had in mind. But I discovered that I could not simply institute a program and implement it; I had to reckon with the legislature and the bureaucracy. Resistance to any change I initiated was indirect but massive—a political coriolis force that blunted every effort. As an officer in the Navy I had become accustomed to determining policy for my unit, giving the necessary orders, and seeing them carried out. Here, none of it was straightforward. After my first year in office I considered what I had accomplished in the way of monetary reform, improved education, prison reform, and suppression of the burgeoning trade in illicit drugs, and shook my head in frustration. Hardly anything seemed to have changed. The present system simply wasn't geared for change of any kind; it was like wading through molasses. Certainly I had made thrusts in all these areas and hoped that success would come, but it had not yet manifested itself.

As governor I also received a good deal of mail. Most of it Shelia handled, summarizing it efficiently for me, but some required my personal attention. Sometimes seemingly minor things developed into major ones. One example was the missive from Mrs. Burton:

Dear Governor Hubris:

I am seventy-four years old, a widow, in pretty good health. My stipend isn't really enough, and, anyway, I'd rather be a productive citizen. I am a competent stage technician, conversant with most technical equipment currently in use for broadcasts, and my record is good. But no one will hire me because of my age. Governor, I call this age discrimination, and I wish you would do something about it. A lot of us older people are ready, willing, and able to contribute to the economy—if you will let us.

I pondered for about three seconds. "Shelia, draft up a policy memo for signature: There shall be no discrimination in Sunshine on account of age. Anybody who can pass the tests and perform the job shall be considered on an equal basis, beginning with Mrs. Burton. We'll make an example of her; if she's as competent as she says she is I'll hire her myself."

In two days we had Mrs. Burton in my office. She was a large, heavyset woman of grandmotherly aspect; her hair was gray, her skin mottled, and her hands gnarled. But she checked out personally, and she did know her stuff; we used her to set up the stage for any public addresses I made, and my performance did improve as the result of her expertise. Now the sonic pickup was always aimed and tuned correctly, so that my voice sounded authoritative, and the light always brought out my best profile. The lectern was the right height for me and the seat comfortable. I felt quite at home in a setting that she had worked on, and that was worth a lot.

She became a kind of handywoman on the off days, seeing to the repair of furniture and furnishings. I liked to relax on occasion by reading old-fashioned books, the kind where you turn the pages by hand, but they tended to pile up awkwardly near my chair or desk. Mrs. Burton constructed a little bookcase that solved the problem.

Hopie took to her right away, adopting her as a grandmother figure. It would be an exaggeration to suggest that I could not have functioned without Mrs. Burton, but certainly she earned her keep and was a worthwhile associate.

But for every letter that worked out positively, there were a number that did not. I simply was unable to solve the personal and economic problems of every person in the state.

Rather than detail the tedious minutiae of my frustrated efforts, I'll concentrate instead on the matters in which I was successful. Perhaps this is my human vanity manifesting itself, but success did not necessarily assuage my vanity. Early in my tenure trouble broke out in the Ami area. Here there was a large number of immigrants from Ganymede who had arrived over the course of the past twenty years as the economic situation of Gany worsened. They had formed a fairly cohesive community of their own, which was taking hold and doing well, but in the eyes of the Saxon majority they were shiftless louts. Since the police were mostly Saxons, some law enforcement seemed to have racial undertones.

On this occasion the precipitant was bilingual education. The sizable Hispanic minority wished to have school classes taught in Spanish as well as English, so that the children who spoke no English would not be at a disadvantage. The school system had refused, once more, and so another riot had broken out. These events made the headlines periodically. The police tended to be heavy-handed. Sometimes there were serious confrontations, with deaths occurring.

I, as the newly elected Hispanic governor, felt more than ordinary responsibility, because it was partly because of my election that the Hispanic community had made the issue at this time. The people felt that a Hispanic governor should set all things right for Hispanics. But my margin of victory had come from enlightened Saxons, who had taken the gamble that I would be evenhanded, not partisan, while having a mollifying effect on the minority elements. I did not want to disappoint them.

Politically I could not give the Hispanics what they wanted, even if it had been in my power as governor to declare it as fiat. In addition, I believed they were wrong. Thus the Hispanics didn't have, in me, the ally they supposed. How great would be their sense of betrayal when they discovered this?

I tackled the matter directly, as I wanted the rioting stopped. It was my impression that there was a rising tide of violence throughout Jupiter, as the economic situation slowly constricted; I hoped to ameliorate it in Sunshine. I made arrangements to appear in the center of the rioting district in the heart of the Hispanic section of Ami, in the park above their apartments. Technicians and Mrs. Burton set up an amplification system, and the event was announced on the Hispanic news service. It was short notice—only hours—because I wanted to stop the riot now, not after several days and much damage. Knowing the problem with the local police, whether genuine or perceived—expectations can be self-fulfilling—I asked the mayor of Ami to keep the police away. It would be just my party present: myself, Spirit, and Faith. My staff remained in Hassee, Hopie was in school, and Megan remained to supervise her; I couldn't take my family everywhere I went as governor. I wasn't worried about violence; a Hispanic governor was the one person these people would not hurt.

"I have a job for you," I told Faith as we traveled. "A teaching job, teaching English to Hispanics, but not as you have known it. For this you will be paid by the state of Sunshine—I have cleared this with the appropriate authorities—and you must assume administrative authority."

"Teaching English I can do," she said. "But I've never—"

"You will be assigned a competent staff," I said. "All you will have to do is verify that applicants are truly bilingual and that they are able to teach children or adults without antagonizing them."

"But don't you have professionals to do that sort of thing? You can't just put another relative on the state payroll. That's nepotism!"

"In this case it must be a relative," I said. "You must be in charge, no one else. You will see."

She shrugged. "You always knew what you were doing better than I did," she said. "I hope you know this time."

"He does," Spirit said.

Despite the short notice, the crowd was enormous. They were really interested in this, expecting good news. Well, I had to do what I had to do.

"All I ask is that you give me a fair hearing," I began, speaking in Spanish. "The same kind of hearing you want for yourselves. I have not come to tell you what you want to hear. I have come to tell you the truth. Listen to me and try to understand, for I do have your interests at heart, and not just because I happen to be of your number."

They were quiet, for never before had a governor come to talk to them directly, let alone in Spanish. Now they knew I was one of them. There was a holo news crew, but I knew that not much would go out on the national tapes; only Hispanics would understand it, unless they used subtitles or a translation. The Hispanic Network crew was there, though, and they would certainly broadcast it.

"You want your schools to be bilingual," I continued. "So your children will not be penalized for being what they are. But this is folly." There was a stir, but I moved on. "Listen to me! I am a refugee myself; only I and my two sisters survived our bubble-trip to Jupiter. It took two of us fifteen years to get citizenship, and the third doesn't have it yet." I indicated Faith. "She's a resident alien, like many of you. We know, we understand! But my child is in a Saxon school with Saxon teachers; she has no classes in Spanish. When she was in Ganymede, her classes were all in Spanish, because that is the language there, as perhaps you remember." There was a murmur of mirth; of course they remembered. "She had to learn, to become bilingual herself. Now she's back in Jupiter, and English is the language, so she speaks it."

I bore down on my point. "When in Rome, you do as the Romans do; you don't try to make the Romans learn your language, you learn theirs. If you don't care to do that, you don't stay in Rome. Now you live on Jupiter, which resembles Rome in certain ways. Certainly it is as strong and arrogant as Rome was." There was an understanding laugh. "You want to make a good life here, of course. But it will not be given to you on a platter; you have to earn it. In fact, you may have to wrest it from reluctant hands, as I had to." There was another laugh; they were with me. I was playing this crowd the way I play an individual, reading it as I spoke, tuning in on its affinities. "This is the planet of free enterprise; you are entitled to what you can get. As long as you stay within the law. As long as you pay your taxes." I grimaced and was rewarded by another laugh. "But to do this you must speak Jupiter's language! It is the only way to break your bonds of ignorance and isolation and make it in this society."

Now there was a muttering. I overrode it. "Listen to me! If you had schools taught in Spanish, do you know what this would lead to? It would lead to the ghetto! You would be locked into your closed society and your children would be locked in because you did not speak the language of opportunity. You would have in the end a completely separate school system. Do you know what that means? Do you? The Blacks can tell you. It means inferior schools that lock your children into an inferior place in the society. The Blacks fought for integration, to share the Saxon schools. You must fight for it, too! You must make them educate you exactly the same as Saxon children are educated—the same standards, the same teachers, the same language—so that when your children go out to compete for the best jobs, no Saxon is better qualified than they are. Only then will your children be able to achieve a better place in Jupiter than you have now." I paused. "How many votes do you think I would have gotten for governor if I had campaigned in Spanish?"

There was another ripple of laughter. They knew I would have lost again, if I hadn't courted the Saxon vote. That helped make my point. "You can't persuade a man of anything unless you speak his language. Don't let yourselves be ghettoized," I concluded. "Insist on your right to learn English so that the entire spectrum of opportunity available in Jupiter is yours. You know your children will never learn English well if they can have their classes in Spanish. They wouldn't go to school at all if they didn't have to. You can't afford to have their education governed by that. It isn't easy, but it has to be done—so that every child will have the same opportunity I have had. To hold office, even to become governor!"

"But we don't have good teachers for English!" someone protested.

"That we can remedy," I said. "My sister Faith will help you learn English."

They were silent, not quite understanding this. But I acted, seizing the moment. I stepped forward to where a woman stood with her little boy of about six. "Señora, my child is not here," I said in Spanish. "May I borrow yours? For only a few minutes?"

She gazed at me nervously. "What will you do, Don Hope?"

"I will teach him English," I explained. I knew, somehow, that this child spoke no English, and neither did his mother; it was the nature of this audience. "My sister and I will teach him."

Reluctantly she turned the child's hand over to mine. "What is your name, señor?" I asked him formally.

"Pedro," he replied shyly.

"Very well, Pedro. Come here by the pickup. You know what it is?"

He shook his head in negation.

"It is what makes my voice loud," I explained. "Listen." I leaned toward the pickup and said "Loud." And the word blasted from the speakers around the park: Fuerte!

The boy stepped back, impressed, looking around. The crowd waited and watched, curious to learn what I was up to.

"Now, Pedro," I said, reassuring him with a smile as I read his willingness to respond. "I will teach you a word in English. It is the word for what you need to survive in the society of Jupiter, to help yourself and your mother. You want to help your mother?"

"Si," he agreed.

"The word is power," I said, pronouncing it carefully in English. "Pow-er."

"¿Pow'r?"

"POW-er."

"Powr," he mumbled.

"Ah, but you must say it as if you mean it," I told him. "Loud. Power!"

"Pow'r," he said with greater volume, recovering the second syllable.

"Here where they can hear you," I said, guiding him to the pickup.

"Pow'r!" he cried, getting into the feel of it, and this time the speakers roared it back, startling him again.

"Yes, that's your voice," I told him. "Say it again. Make them answer you."

"Pow'r! Pow'r!" he cried gleefully into the amplification.

I gestured to the crowd. "Power! Power!" they called back, catching on. Many of them may not have understood English, either, but they were onto this one.

Then it became a chant, child and crowd speaking to each other responsively. "Pow'r! Power! Pow'r! Power!"

"The power of language!" I cried into the pickup, overriding the chant. "Make them teach you! Keep your own language, your own heritage—it is a fine one, no shame there—but know theirs, too, so you can do what I have done. It's a hard course, but it leads to victory. Power! Power! Power!"

The chant became deafening as they all joined in. After a minute that shook the park I spoke again. "Remember this woman!" I cried. "My sister, Faith Hubris, flesh of my flesh! She will teach you! She will find more teachers, so all of you can learn! Those of you who are already bilingual, come to her and she will hire you to teach your people. This is the true beginning of power!"

They looked at Faith, who stood somewhat in awe of this cynosure. But she was a fine figure of a woman of that age, and her familial resemblance to me was evident, and these were definite assets.

"If you are unsatisfied, tell her, and she will tell me. She is my sister; I must listen to her!" And they laughed, knowing how it is with sisters. "She will do it the way I would do it. It will be as if I am among you. I am with you in my heart, but you know I must keep my eye on those Saxons in Hassee!"

They cheered. They liked the notion of a Hispanic governor supervising the Saxon legislature. They would accept my sister in lieu of me. They knew how strong the Hispanic family bonds are. I had given them the closest possible representative.

Spirit and I made ready to go. Faith remained, talking with those who spoke Spanish and English, proving that she knew both languages well. Already the bilingual Hispanics were approaching her. She was the center of attention, in a way she had not been since her years of youth and beauty.

As Spirit and I got into our car, waving good-bye to little Pedro, we heard the chant starting up again. Only this one sounded more like "Hubris! Hubris! Hubris!"

I may misremember, but I don't believe the Hispanic community of Ami ever rioted again while I was governor. Their problems remained, but now they were working on the solution. And Faith had found her mission in life.

Thorley, of course, had a different view:

And so the quixotic Hispanic, fresh into the problems of gubernatorial policy, has absconded with another coup: He has dazzled his folk of South Sunshine into quiescence with the proposition that their problems will somehow evanesce if only they learn to speak another tongue. In the process he has, with the legerdemain of the true politician, installed his sister on the state payroll and made the state like it. The man is certainly a master of his trade. One wonders what sleight of hand he will accomplish next. Without question he is a compelling orator; it has been mooted that the sound of the chant "Hubris! Hubris!" resounds throughout the Latin quarter of the city of Ami like the erstwhile refrain of "Heil! Heil!" in the Germanic segment of Uranus. If this man Hubris had ambition, he would be dangerous.

I can't say that I appreciate all of Thorley's notions, but I can appreciate his way with words. If I am, as he terms it, a compelling orator, he is a compelling journalist. He always knew what I was up to almost before I did, which surely facilitated his expertise. How prettily he remarked on my ambition!

The matter of Ami did not end here, for Faith led me into an event of greater consequence. She did her job well, and soon there were very few critics of my nepotism, for it was evident to most Saxons that Ami was quiet because the governor's sister was looking out for its minority interests, and not only those of the Hispanics. Faith made reports regularly from the ghotto, as she chose to put it, and it was manifest that the somewhat shallow and self-centered girl I had known as a child had become quite another person in the course of her travails in space. I soon got a composite picture of the true problems of Ami, ranging from petty discrimination to brutal murder. I did what I could to alleviate the problems, but it was only a token; the governor has less impact than the local authorities. But one matter did fall squarely into my bailiwick.

It seemed that during my absence from Jupiter, while I was ambassador to Ganymede, there had been a serious riot in Ami, this one in the Black community, where unemployment was chronically high. Police had charged a demonstration in a club-wielding phalanx; there had been an explosion, and several policemen had died. The due process of law had wended its tedious way, and now four Blacks were on death row, as it was called, their appeals denied, and they were due to be executed within a month. It was the prevailing sentiment of the Black community that the men were innocent or at least were guilty of a lesser crime than murder and that had they been Saxon they would have gotten off with lesser sentences or even have been freed for lack of evidence. There had been sporadic demonstrations; now, Faith assured me privately, if the executions proceeded as scheduled, there would be a blowout such as the city had not seen in a decade. I needed to act.

I investigated. I researched the literature of the case, consulted with legal experts, and went to death row to interview the four men directly. My conclusion was that they had indeed been condemned unfairly. Whether they were guilty or innocent I could not tell, but that was not the point; I was convinced that, based on the evidence presented at their trial, no one could have established either their guilt or innocence. Since, in a criminal case, it was necessary to establish guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, that meant they should have been acquitted. Why hadn't that happened? Because, apparently, the prosecutor had been savagely effective, a veritable tiger, while the counsel for the defense had been inadequate. The police had needed an example to prove their effectiveness as law enforcers; the state had wanted a demonstration of power to cow future rioters; and the men were Black. The specter of a dual system of justice loomed before me; these men would indeed have been acquitted had they been Saxon. This was clearly a miscarriage of justice.

So I exercised my prerogative as governor and pardoned the four men. Within hours of my decision they were free.

I had suspected that there would be mixed reaction to my act; Megan had warned me. But I had underestimated its ferocity. There was a storm of protest. The Saxon media condemned me with seeming unanimity. They claimed I was setting criminals loose on the street to pillage and kill again with impunity. None of them seemed to pay any attention to the facts of the case. I was amazed and chagrined; it seemed the Jupiter press really did not care about justice, whatever it might claim.

Furthermore, neither did the people. Regular polls were published; my popularity had been hovering at about seventy percent, but after the pardon it dropped to forty. Were I up for reelection at this point, I would lose.

I was shocked. It had never seriously occurred to me that the majority of the media and people could turn their attention away from the plain facts and policies of Jupiter and condemn a man on ignorance. Yet, as Spirit reminded me, they had done exactly that in condemning the accused bombers. I really should not have been surprised. But my disillusionment hurt.

"There is always a racist element," Megan said. "As a Hispanic person in power you are subject to suspicion. They do not like to be openly racist, so they focus on other issues. Had you been Saxon, the reaction would not have been this strong. Had you been Black, it would have been stronger. Now they have a pretext to condemn you, but the well-spring is deeper." And, of course, Thorley had the last word:

Sometimes I despair for my profession. Governor Hubris has been widely praised in the past for being wrong. Now he is being condemned for being right. I do not for a moment condone the release of murderers, and I do not share the governor's predilection to leniency, and I do suspect that the four accused bombers were guilty as charged, but the case against them was not tight. That provided our liberal governor with the pretext to nullify the conviction. Don't blame him for being what he is; you knew that when you so foolishly elected him. Blame instead the inept authorities who could have made a tight case against the bombers, and should have, yet who carelessly flubbed it. Next time, do it properly. Don't provide the bleeding hearts with the tiniest crevice to insert their wedges for the overturning of justice.

Then the news of the hour moved on and the furor subsided. Slowly my popularity revived, until it nudged back above fifty percent, but it never recovered its former health. I had learned a cynical political lesson. Like a military commander who first experiences the carnage of battle, I had been blooded.

I stood for the things I stood for, but never again would I believe that the voters did. Their love was superficial. Perhaps they deserved the type of politician they usually got.

I had pardoned the four bombers, but I would not pardon the fickleness of the electorate.