“Yes, but the difference was, when the war ended, the Soumamo didn’t release the captives. They made them labor their entire lives at growing fiber plants. Worse yet, they also made the captives’ children labor for them. This was highly immoral, we thought.”
“What brought about the war with them?”
“They wanted to use forced labor in common areas over the ridge to the west that both our groups used jointly for agriculture and hunting. We didn’t want them to force captured warriors to work for them in those areas because we might become associated with their loathsome practice. Our other neighbors and potential trade partners might avoid contact with us because they feared that, if war broke out and we were allied with the Soumamo (our usual arrangement), they might be captured and forced into a lifetime of labor. Better for them to avoid all contact with us. Not a good result when we were trying to expand trade. In the controversy over labor in the common lands, our relationship with the Soumamo steadily deteriorated. Eventually, they attacked us, beginning the horrendous conflict.”
“Do they still have forced labor today?” asked Rick.
“We made them get rid of it but you can still see remnants of it, for example, today at the feast.”
“Really? Where?”
“The attendants who served us the food are descendants of captured warriors. The Soumamo now pay them, but very little. You may not have noticed, but they look different than the Soumamo.”
“I wondered where the attendants fit into Soumamo society.”
“At the bottom,” said the Leader.
“Is Soumamo society changing in the direction that you wish?” Rick asked.
“Things are changing, but slowly. The Soumamo have shown some interest in diversifying in recent decades, and their social attitudes have changed some. Time will tell.”
CHAPTER 28
The Political System
Rick looked again at the list of topics he needed to research before leaving the rain forest and he seemed to be on schedule to complete, but it was close. His next topic was politics, which he’d started just before the Soumamo visit. He knew that the Leader exercised authority in the Euromamo village but he didn’t know the extent of it, and he didn’t know anything about the rest of the political system. As he had done previously when he began a new topic, he went to John Eel Hunter to get information. Before he knocked, he made sure that John had not hung his blue privacy disc on his door frame.
“During the years we’ve lived in the valley, we’ve given a lot of thought to our political system or, as we call it, the government,” said John, once he learned Rick’s interest.
“You seem to have given thought to everything, John,” said Rick congenially.
“We try. It’s fortunate that you’re asking these questions at this time because, next week, Peter Ubervis, in his capacity as Adjutant General, will announce the dates of our next election. Potential candidates have a week to decide whether to run, then the candidates will announce their decisions and the four-week election period will begin. All told, the new government will be in place about seven weeks from now.”
“How frequently do you have elections?”
“At least once every three years.”
“If it’s an election, I assume that you’re a democracy,” said Rick.
“Representative democracy is more accurate. The Leader and the Council do most of the work of the government, although the ultimate power resides in the informed electorate. If you ask me your questions, I can address them one by one.”
“Sure. How did the Leader get her office? It’s elective but does heredity play any part?”
“It’s purely elective. Our forebears did away with hereditary leadership early in our stay here.”
“How did that happen?” asked Rick.
“Following the wreck of the Cork, Captain Gallant led the society. The responsibility fell upon him in the emergency and he remained in charge during the long fight up the La Cuerda to the valley. However, once our forebears settled here, the Captain encouraged the village to devise a new system of government. Obviously, they’d come from the English system based on heredity but they hadn’t brought a king or aristocracy to the rain forest so they were free to decide whether they wanted hereditary descent as a principle in selecting their political leaders. They decided against it.”
“Why did they reject heredity descent?”
“The circumstances of the rain forest pushed them to reject it. As you know, wealth and privilege in England was based on inherited rights to land. All English land of value was claimed and its ownership was tightly controlled through primogeniture and entail. In contrast, in our valley, no one had settled, so the land was available for the taking. The old basis for political control of the society, namely control of the land, didn’t exist here. In addition, our forebears fight up the La Cuerda convinced them that their leaders should be strong, quick to understand the rain forest, and resistant to disease. They couldn’t risk getting a weak offspring in a hereditary system. Although it was clear they should give up heredity descent, it was less clear what new principle should be used to confer political power.”
“How did they figure that out?”
“Luckily, a few on the Cork knew some John Locke as well as a few works on politics from the classical world, but even with that philosophical and historical guidance, they were on new ground here. This was before the American and French Revolutions so they didn’t even have those examples to work from.”
“But you eventually established a democratic system, didn’t you?”
“Representative democracy,” he reminded with a smile.
“Right. How did you get there?”
“As you know, many Euromamo men died during the fight up river. To restore our population, it became imperative that as many women would bear children as were willing. In return for the women’s agreement to bear children, they insisted that everyone be given an equal voice in running the society and were the main advocates of democratic values. Their rule was adopted and has guided us ever since with a few modifications.”
“So women voted here from early on?”
“Yes, and more than a century before England and the United States adopted female suffrage.”
“They were in uncharted territory.”
“Very much so. It would have been helpful, of course, if our forebears could have learned about the Articles of Confederation and the Constitution in the United States, and about the French Revolution while they were debating their form of government but, unfortunately, they were isolated in the rain forest until 1825 when they made their first trip to La Cuerda. To their credit, the government our forebears devised here in isolated nature worked well enough, and it’s been improved over the years based on our continued reading and experience.”
“What were the main elements of your system?”
“They wanted to distribute power away from a single leader so they could get the benefits of collective decision-making. Therefore, they created a Council, an Adjutant General, and a Judge. Before discussing them, I need to tell you about other reforms that are fundamental to our political system.”
“Please do.”
“About 1830, they completely separated religion and politics. History told them that mixing the two poses great risks for social peace. Still fresh in their memories was the beheading of King Charles I over religious differences a century earlier. As you know, Europe had burned people at the stake over minor theological issues like transubstantiation. Unfortunately, the examples of violence based in religious differences are numerous.”
“And religious conflicts don’t dissipate quickly over time. People will fight forever to make sure that political authorities don’t disadvantage their religion. Of course, they’re much more receptive to using the political system to advantage their religion,” he added with a wry smile. “Our forebears didn’t want our politics to get caught up in either of those alternatives.”
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��Why was it an issue for them? The passengers on the Cork were of the same religion, weren’t they?” asked Rick.
“They were generally Anglicans but even at that early time there were some differences of opinion on theology. In the new environment of the rain forest, they decided that they should let people worship however they wanted without any interference or coercion by government. They got the government out of religious questions just like they got the government out of restricting marital arrangements.”
“Other governments have taken that position.”
“Yes, but our forebears went farther. They concluded that theological differences weren’t worth fighting over since so much of theology is made up. For the Easter Bunny’s sake, just make it up another way and avoid the fight.”
“What are some of the ways they kept religion and politics separate?” asked Rick.
“They established several rules that, in our experience, have worked well. For example, candidates were prohibited from suggesting that the Easter Bunny, Hosfowotine, any other deity, or any religious principle supported them or their policy positions. From our readings, they knew that, in societies where this was permitted, all sides in a controversy could claim divine support so it didn’t help the discussion. Stated another way, they only allowed secular, empirical arguments in political discussions. That rule required political debates to be based on facts that can be tested rather than on mere beliefs that cannot be proven true or false.”
“But candidates can make references to religion, can’t they?”
“No, they can’t. It’s unacceptable in our political discussions. No prayers are said at the beginnings of Council meetings, nor do speakers ask at the ends of political speeches that “Hosfowotine bless the Euromamo’. The Church of Science, for one, would regard that as a silly, unsubstantiated entreaty given our current level of knowledge. Finally, we do not have ‘In The Easter Bunny We Trust’ or ‘In Hosfowotine We Trust’ on our scato, only the denomination of the scato and the Cork. Beyond politics, we don’t allow prayers at the beginning of general public events such as sporting events and other secular entertainments.”
“That’s a fuller separation of politics and religion than I’m used to in outside society; however, what about the schools? Are references to religion allowed there?”
“No prayers, to be sure,” he said with a smile, “and no references to god in any loyalty oaths to Euromamo society. As far as the content of school courses, we require that all information that is taught be supported by empirical evidence. We don’t allow mere religious beliefs to substitute for explanation. As we say, ‘Religion is about belief while education is about thought, proof, and doubt’.”
“Were there other reforms?”
“Yes, and important ones. We’ve completely separated politics and scato. As a result, our candidates aren’t permitted to seek or accept donations when running for office. Word-of-mouth verbal support is all they can get.”
“How was scato a problem?”
“During the late nineteenth century, scato began to be donated to candidates in our elections. It wasn’t a lot because our society doesn’t revolve around scato, but it was still unseemly. We knew that gifts always create reciprocal obligations and we didn’t want our office holders to feel obligated to perform favors for their donors. After all, the donors’ interests might well differ from the interests of the society as a whole.”
“When was that change made?”
“In the early twentieth century, there was a broad reform movement that prohibited donations of scato to candidates. If illegal donations were discovered, the candidate was barred from office. Importantly, the law also meant that those who had scato to donate and those who didn’t have scato to donate had an equal voice in our government.”
“If candidates can’t receive scato, how can they inform villagers about their plans for your society?”
“It’s not difficult. Each candidate produces a political pamphlet setting forth his or her positions. Copies of all the pamphlets are available in the posting room.”
“So overall, the major changes your forebears and later generations made to your political system were allowing women to vote and then removing hereditary descent, religion, and scato.”
“Yes, once we had done that, our political discussions centered on substantive issues and that was our goal.”
“Wasn’t it difficult keeping people interested in substantive issues during elections?”
“Yes, and it still is. Getting the focus on substance and keeping it there requires continuous effort. We regularly educate and re-educate our society about issues and our values.”
“Are there any other reforms of your political system?”
“Yes. Voting is done by the informed electorate, so the franchise isn’t universal.”
“I certainly want to know more about that.”
“Good. Let me work down from the top. You see, the Leader is elected by the Council, not directly by the voters.”
“The Council?”
“It’s a group of seven distinguished members of our society. They elect the Leader by majority vote, unless the Leader is standing for re-election, which requires more votes.”
“Why don’t the people elect the Leader directly?”
“Our forebears knew that some villagers would not understand public issues sufficiently to make informed decisions. Therefore, they created a Council of highly respected citizens who would spend more time studying policy issues. The Council members are the best equipped to know who would make an effective Leader.”
“And the people elect the Council, I suppose?”
“Not all the people. Only the informed electorate can vote for members of the Council, or vote on other issues for that matter.”
“I know that your society has kin groups. I would have guessed the heads of those groups would compose the Council.”
“Originally, before the Council was formed, the heads of families played an important role in our society, but we realized that most heads had greater loyalty to their kin groups than to the general society.”
“Blood runs thicker than water, I suppose,” said Rick.
“That’s our thinking as well. People have a natural tendency to group together with their kinsmen so we tried to guard against that. Another problem was that the heads of the kin groups held their positions through descent so there was no guarantee of their ability. Although heads of kin groups can be on the Council today, they aren’t selected because they’re leaders of their families. Eliminating that was an important step in reducing the role of kinship in politics.”
“You said that the informed electorate picks the Council members. Don’t they vote for the heads of their own kin groups to represent them on the Council? Don’t you get the same result?”
“They did during the first few years of the Council, but the rules were changed. Since then, we haven’t allowed anyone to vote for a member of their own kin group to be on the Council. Stated another way, they must vote for someone outside their kin group. The result is that those seeking election to the Council must cultivate social contacts throughout the village, and demonstrate that they’ve broader social interests beyond kinship.”
“Can the Leader be re-elected?”
“Yes, the Leader can be elected for one or two three-year terms with a majority vote of the Council.”
“What about after that?”
“Our forebears were concerned about someone remaining in office too long, but they also thought that a blanket prohibition on serving additional terms might deny the village the continued services of the best leader. As a solution, they provided that a Leader must get five of the seven votes to be elected to a third term, and must get six of the seven for a fourth term, and finally must get all votes for a fifth and subsequent terms. They wanted to check the power of the Leader but preserve the ability of the Council to elect the most capable individual.”
“How many terms has the L
eader served?”
“Three. This election would give her a fourth term so she needs six of the seven votes on the Council. It will be very difficult.”
“How is it timed? The Council is elected first, I suppose?”
“Yes. The informed electorate chooses the Council and then, one week later, the Council elects the Leader. If the Council elects one of its members as Leader, the Adjutant General calls a special election for a replacement to the Council.”
“How do you keep the Council from exercising too much power?”
“They are elected and therefore are subject to being thrown out of office at the next election. In addition, decisions of the Council can be directly overturned by the informed electorate, as you may already know.”
“You have referred several times to the ‘informed electorate’. How’s that different from the general electorate?”
“After reading about other democracies, we concluded that only those members of our society who are informed about our civic affairs should vote in our elections. As we say, ‘Informed voters cast informed votes’. It’s not much more complicated than that.”
“So the more intelligent vote and others do not?”
“We don’t characterize it in terms of intelligence, although that doubtless plays a role. The fact is that some very smart people in our society don’t vote because their interests lie elsewhere. They just don’t care about civic issues.”
“How do you bar the uninformed from voting?”
“We don’t bar them from voting, but we certainly discourage them from doing so. This makes more sense to us than encouraging everyone to vote as a civic duty.”
“How do you discourage them? I’d think they’d be unwilling to give up such a precious right.”
“We’ve removed the stigma from not voting. In fact, it’s a civic duty to abstain from voting unless you think you’ll cast an informed vote. This is taught in our schools from the earliest years so it becomes ingrained in our way of thinking.”
“How do potential voters decide if they are informed enough to vote?”
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