An Unlikely Phoenix

by Frank Zafiro

  “She mentioned Quebec in 2020, and Scotland, just two years ago.”

  “And you found those examples compelling?”

  He had to shake his head. “No. I argued that they both retained strong bonds with their mother country. Those were technically divorces, but amicable ones.”

  “All true,” the Governor agreed ruefully. “No, the most comparable example remains our own history. And that resulted in four years of war, the bloodiest one in our existence. I’d like to avoid that, obviously.”

  “Especially since now there’s another wrinkle to worry about.” He gave her a grave look. “Nuclear weapons.”

  “And we certainly want to avoid that.”

  “Yet you’re asking me if we have the votes to secede?”

  “Of course, I am! If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that this White House only responds to strength. If secession is going to be a bargaining chip, the threat has to be real. An empty threat brings empty results.”

  Alex gave her a curious look. “So, we won’t secede?”

  “Oh, Alex. You’re as literal as Harold sometimes.” She reached for a pitcher of water on the small table to the side of them and poured two glasses. Then she handed him one, raising her own. “We will do what we must to remain true to people of the great state of California,” she said, toasting.

  They drank. The water was cool, and felt good in Alex’s throat as he swallowed.

  “Now,” she said, placing her glass aside. “Here’s what I think we ought to do. I think you should very publicly meet as promised with those moderate members and have whatever conversation you need to have so that the White House sees you dancing to its tune. Meanwhile, we need to unify our secessionists, and win over a few more of the non-commitals. If I ever have to slap the President with the open threat of secession, I have to know I have the votes here at home.”

  “I don’t know if we’ll ever get the votes for a super majority,” Alex said.

  “We don’t need that. We just need enough to put it to the people. If things ever get bad enough that someone like you or me thinks we need to secede, the average Californian will have to be able to see that, too.”

  “You’ll definitely need a Sarajevo for that.”

  The Governor smiled grimly. “Somehow, I think this White House will have no problem giving us that. They’ve been building toward it for three terms now.”

  Chapter 9

  The further removed we are from an historic event or period, the more emphasis we tend to place on the role of those in higher leadership positions. Much of what is achieved, or what damage caused, is lain at the feet of these leaders. This is surely true of Lincoln, of Roosevelt, of Reagan, and this trend exists throughout world history.

  In terms of the crisis of 2030, most eyes tend to come to rest on the sitting President and the Governor of California, who ultimately led the largest opposition to federal power. The impact and influence of both can and should not be diminished, but a closer look at this time period, especially through alternate news sources, reveals additional players whose roles may have been secondary in nature, but which were no less important. They may, in fact, have ultimately been among the most important, as their decisions drove events in a way that even the President and the Governor could not.

  — From An Unlikely Phoenix by Reed Ambrose

  AFTER A DAY OF VERY public meetings with moderate members of the senate, Alex felt fatigued. The meetings themselves were not entirely a charade, but progress was limited and glacial, and such things wore him out.

  Despite his weariness, he still met with the leaders of the various senate factions that evening. He invited all of them to his home, pouring hard drinks for those who would imbibe, and respecting the wishes of those who did not. By the time the half dozen senators were clustered in his library, it was after nine P.M.

  “Can we get this rolling?” James Mallory asked, his tone slightly irritated. “I have an early morning.”

  “We all do, Jim,” replied Héctor Chavez. “Early mornings and late evenings. That’s the life of a senator these days.”

  August Emerson sighed, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “I’ve been a senator for twenty-six years, Héctor. And an assemblyman for six before that. Trust me when I tell you that early mornings and late evenings have always been the life of a senator.”

  A light, nervous chuckle ran through the group. Alex motioned toward the chairs and small couches in the center of the room, and the senators settled into their seats. Alex purposefully took a seat that could not be construed as the ‘head’, so as to promote a greater sense of equality. He knew there was a pecking order in this group, like any group, but he wanted to mitigate it as much as possible. Tonight should be about ideas, not personalities. He hoped that would prevail, though he doubted it would be painless.

  Alex glanced around the assembled group. Each senator represented a different faction in the discussion over potential succession. Three were in favor, one opposed, and one uncommitted. And then him, of course. An officially uncommitted vote that might sway several others.

  Héctor Chavez, Gregory Bell, and Miriam Slake all favored secession, though they differed on what to do once that was accomplished. Héctor wanted to join Mexico (or as the Governor had accurately pointed out, rejoin Mexico). Gregory believed joining Canada was the correct action, while Miriam steadfastly maintained that California should be the premier state in a new nation. August favored conciliation (or, as he accurately pointed out whenever possible, reconciliation, since even a pro-Union senator had to admit that relations had deteriorated to that point). James Mallory was staunchly uncommitted.

  And then there was Alex. The pragmatist. Decidedly undecided.

  That’s the lay of the land, he thought. Now let’s find out if we can change the topography.

  “I asked all of you here because there are some things that can’t be hashed out on the floor of the Senate,” he began. “Or better put, there is honest talk that can’t happen there. But it can here. So let’s talk.”

  No one replied. The group waited for Alex to take the lead. Except for August, this was something they’d become conditioned to in their careers, and even August had adapted to the changing of the guard. He used to be the Majority Leader, but when the members voted in Alex instead, the veteran senator didn’t object. He was nothing if not accepting of the realities of politics. He remained a productive participant in all activities but seemed to oppose Alex whenever his political views allowed.

  “We are at a crossroads,” Alex began, but August interrupted.

  “I daresay we’ve passed right through the crossroads, Mr. Majority Leader. I daresay it is more accurate to state that we truly stand at the banks of the Rubicon.” He lifted his glass slightly to Alex, and sipped.

  “Perhaps,” Alex allowed. “But when Caesar stood at the Rubicon and pondered what to do next, he had a luxury that we don’t. While he may have faced obstacles in front of him, all of his people were united behind him.”

  “His armies, you mean,” August corrected. Somehow his native Georgian accent, now almost fifty years removed from his state of birth, become more prominent at times like these. And perhaps as the bourbon took effect.

  Alex didn’t argue the point. “His armies, yes. A major component of the political power of his time. But imagine if he’d been facing that decision with a divided army behind him. There would have been no decision to make in that case, because he would have known anything he attempted without unity would fail. That is the same issue we are facing, gentlemen.” Alex glanced at Miriam. “And lady.”

  “You’re right,” Héctor said. His suit was impeccable and his dark hair fashionably styled. “But we have been discussing this issue for over a year, and we’re at an impasse. What are you suggesting we do?”

  “Talk,” Alex replied.

  “We’ve been talking,” said Héctor, and next to him James Mallory and Gregory Bell nodded their heads in agreement. “We’v
e talked and talked, and we get nowhere.”

  “You’re right,” Alex agreed. “So let’s try something else.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s listen, instead.”

  Héctor gave him a baleful look, then leaned back in his seat. “Alex, if you’re just going to play word games and insult us, why did you even bother to call this meeting?”

  “I’m not doing either of those things. I’m honestly suggesting that tonight, we put aside our own notions as much as we can, and truly listen to each other. Maybe in doing that, we’ll find an answer, a path that we can all agree on.”

  Héctor looked doubtful. “Are you saying none of us has been listening for the past year?”

  “Not at all. But I know that I sometimes listen more with an eye towards how I can respond, or I’m looking for a way to counter what’s being said, or thinking about what I am going to say when it is my turn to talk. And I like to think I’m a pretty good listener.”

  “You are,” Miriam said, and a couple of the men grudgingly nodded their agreement.

  “So if a good listener finds himself falling prey to these things, can we agree that a great listener or a poor listener might as well?” He looked around the group, meeting each senator in the eye. “Look, I know how intelligent every one of you is. If we purposefully focus on really, truly listening to each other tonight, I know we can make some headway. Or at the very least, understand each other better.”

  There was a long moment of silence, followed by several shrugs.

  “Worth a shot,” James said.

  “Sure,” agreed Héctor.

  “All right. Who would like to start?”

  He half-expected several of them to start at once, but was pleasantly surprised when no one did. Maybe they really are taking my suggestion to heart.

  “Why don’t we start with the most basic question?” Alex suggested. “Should California consider secession from the United States of America?”

  Again, no one answered immediately. This heartened Alex even further.

  “A straw vote?” he asked, and when everyone seemed in agreement, he pointed to Miriam first.

  “Aye,” she said.

  Alex moved clockwise with his gaze.

  “Nay,” said August.

  “Aye,” Gregory said, immediately after.

  James hesitated, then shook his head. “Abstain.”

  Alex looked at Héctor, who nodded. “Aye, of course.”

  So nothing has changed. Alex wasn’t surprised, and he was undaunted. Every game started with knowing where the pieces were on the board.

  “August,” Alex said, “since you are the lone vote against, I offer you the floor before we go any further.”

  August gave him a stately nod, and drew himself up slightly in his seat. If this had been on the senate floor, Alex knew they’d all be in for at least thirty minutes of rhetoric. He hoped August would be uncharacteristically brief and more direct than that.

  “My fellow senators,” the veteran politician intoned, “to consider secession is simply lunacy. I say this not from a philosophical stance, though one could argue such. After all, there are those among us who find it particularly cowardly to abandon one’s nation merely upon the basis of political disagreement, especially when the system of government allows for dissent, redress, and change from within the system.”

  “Ostensibly,” muttered Miriam.

  August shot her a dark look. “I believe I have the floor, madam.”

  “My pardon.” Miriam’s tone was unapologetic.

  August gave her a tight smile. “As I said, while philosophy and indeed, patriotism, are all enough to stand against the very idea of secession, I reach my conclusion for doing so very much on practical terms before even bringing philosophy and patriotism into the equation.”

  “Practical terms?” Miriam asked. “Like what?”

  August sighed. “My dear Madam Slake, if you are going to interrupt me at every turn, we are going to be here all night.”

  “I have a feeling we will be, anyway,” she said.

  Alex held up his hands. “Let’s keep this civil,” he offered to both of them. “I should have been clearer, however. I see tonight as a conversation, not a series of position speeches. So, please, August, answer the question?”

  “If I hadn’t been interrupted, I already would have,” August huffed. He reached for his drink, taking a deliberately slow sip and swallowed. Once he’d replaced the glass, he cleared his throat and continued. “Practical issues, gentlemen,” he said. “That is what we are faced with, not philosophical ones. We serve the people of the great state of California, and to do so, we must live in the real world.” August pointed at Miriam. “And so must you, my dear.”

  “I am not your dear,” Miriam bristled. “And maybe instead of throwback sexism that reeks of MAGA, you could be a little more specific?”

  August clenched his jaw, and Alex thought for a moment that he would jab back at her. Instead, he said gruffly, “The White House will never let us go. Is that specific enough for you?”

  “If we vote it, they can’t stop us.”

  “If.”

  “Yes, August, if. And that is what we’re discussing here – whether that if can or should happen. And you—”

  “And I say no on both counts. Curious that you put those terms in that specific order, madam. Can or should? Really, if the answer to the first one is in the negative, then the answer to the second is rather moot, wouldn’t you say?”

  Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Miriam said, “I’ll play along, just in case you have something new to say. Why can’t it happen?”

  “I’ve already told you. The Federal government of the United States of America is simply not going to allow a state to secede from the union in 2029. It will not happen. No, the White House will follow historical precedent and prevent the secession by any means necessary. Including military force, if it comes to it.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Miriam countered.

  “Then you are being naïve.”

  “Using the military is a violation of law,” Miriam said. “It goes against posse comitatus. Federal troops can’t be deployed to enforce domestic policy.”

  “Your reasoning on that point is flawed.”

  “Oh, really? Do tell.”

  “There is no need to be snarky, Miriam.” August glanced at Alex and back to her. The other three senators looked on wordlessly. “This is, after all, just a discussion.”

  “Really? Because it is starting to sound like the venerable tradition of man-splaining, but please continue.”

  August did. “For one thing, the Posse Comitatus Act specifically references only the Army and the Air Force. The Navy and the Marine Corps are not mentioned, and the Coast Guard is given special exemption.”

  “For law enforcement purposes. Drug traffic interdiction, to be precise.”

  “Even so, if one were to argue that an act of secession is a violation of federal law, then arguably three of the five branches of the military could be brought to bear without violating the act.”

  Miriam shook her head. “It’s a weak legal argument, and wouldn’t survive challenge to the Supreme Court.”

  “Perhaps, but what is the makeup of the Supreme Court? How many justices has this president appointed?”

  “Five,” Miriam admitted.

  “Five. And two others that are philosophically aligned to these five. A clear majority.”

  “Yes, and that’s a problem when the case is ambiguous,” Miriam argued. “But when the issues of law are clear cut, the Supreme Court has no choice but to interpret it that way and rule appropriately.”

  “My good madam senator,” August said, his tone moderately condescending and world weary, “when have you ever known issues of law to be anything other than ambiguous, particularly in the hands of lawyers?”

  “Weren’t you a lawyer?” she shot back.

  “I was, and thus I speak from experience.” He sh
ook his head. “But it is a moot point. If California secedes and claims to no longer be part of the union, what standing would she then have to appeal to U.S. Courts? Most would argue little or none. And that leads me to the second point, which is that since the state is no longer part of the union and is a self-proclaimed separate and sovereign political body, posse comitatus would no longer apply. The White House would therefore be free to use any and all military force to quell what would no doubt be labeled a rebellion. And accurately so, I might add.”

  “That would mean sending American soldiers, some of whom are from California, to fight against other Americans.” Miriam’s tone was one of disbelief.

  “By definition, those others you refer to are no longer Americans, if the state secedes,” August said. “And the dilemma you just outlined was the same one many young men faced in 1861.”

  Miriam shook her head. “I can’t believe any President would do that.”

  “Lincoln did. And he is widely regarded as one of the greatest presidents this nation has ever had.”

  “Wait a second,” interjected Gregory Bell, the sole black member of the group. “You can’t just throw Lincoln around like that. We all know our history, August. That war was over slavery. An unjust cause.”

  “Unjust, yes, I wholeheartedly agree.” August took a sip of his drink, his expression thoughtful. “But history is written by the victors, Gregory. If the Confederacy had been triumphant in that war, I believe you would see history books in the south today speaking very definitively about the moral courage it took to stand up for states’ rights, even if the cause of the day was unfortunately misguided.”

  “Misguided?” Gregory sputtered. “Slavery?”

  August waved away his indignation. “I’m not proposing that is the truth of it. I’m simply saying that history is written by the winners and that nations are notorious for employing ex post facto rationalizations and deliberate blindness to remain heroic in the telling of their own history. Look at German schoolbooks over the last sixty years, if you don’t believe me.”

  “You’ll have to enlighten me on that one,” Gregory admitted.