Memoirs of a Premier

[Tom]

From the desk of Former Premier Robert Davis. A collection of memoirs.

Preface

Due to unforeseen and terrible circumstances, I find myself beginning my foray into the post-political world on a most melancholy note. Not a day goes by in which I am not reminded of the terrible circumstances in which we find our fine nation.

War in this galaxy is never more than a stone's throw away. It seems the cycle of war and peace mirrors life and death itself. I'm afraid that it is a cycle that fundamentally defines us, like a type of code written into our genes. If we ever do manage, as a community of nations, to transcend this pattern, what we shall find in its place is not something of this universe. We will have stepped beyond labels such as Nepleslian or Yamataian and into something far grander than can be described in words.

I expect that I will not live to see that age.

Of course, such lofty dreams are best reserved for the dreamers, not those whose job it is to preserve an entire nation's way of life in the face of constant danger. No, their duty is of a much more pragmatic nature, entailing the kinds of difficult decisions that lead to many a night of hard drinks. Theirs is the duty that weighs heaviest, that pains the most; and men who can bear such a burden are, at least in my humble experience, both rare and far between.

These are, I think, the memoirs of one such man.

Entry #1: "Anyone can wear a hat."

It was late in the spring when I received mine; a thing of black and green felt, no different I thought from any of the hats that my predecessors of days long forgotten had worn.

I remember the tailor wearing a very low cut dress, with a little silver heart in the lapel. I suppose that's a really stupid thing to remember but that's just how things like this happen. She smiled, but I do not believe she fully understood the depth of the importance that this image would come to fill.

Robert Davis, hero to the people and eventually the Sky Marshall, isa hero. With a name like that, it behooved me to look the part as well - for people need their heroes, or at least some enduring belief in the existence of heroes and the fairness and rightness of man. Over the course of my life, my command and eventually when circumstances forced the Emperor to resign, in my time as then Grand Admiral, I have discovered just how important this lie is not only to the populace, but to myself as well.

The reality is that we're all a very difficult monster; we are, above else, human beings. In all of my life I have never met another species so alien to me sometimes as my own. The war, and the needless violence, and the cruelty of our darkest imaginings - these are all facets of our existence, barely concealed beneath the surface of the general, almost clerical fabric of society.

It takes a special sort of flair to make people believe in something greater than themselves. You have to care about little things like appearances, sometimes. So I bought the hat, even though it's the only hat of its kind in existence and my advisers called it a waste of taxpayer dollars. And I tipped the tailor, and smiled. But ultimately, it's just a hat - physically, a thing that protects my head, and hides my receding hairline.

But to the people? It's something entirely different. It's a bold, uncompromising statement of intent; I am the leader, here, and I will call the shots. I will protect the people.

Ah, now you see, that's the thing; sometimes, it can't be done. We are, after all, only human. Animals. Beasts at war not only with our brothers but also with our own nature. It takes a firm hand to hold the leash, and even then, the owner must beware; he holds a wolf by the ears. Should your hand slip just a little, the result is disaster.

So it is with a nation; not just a nation, a galaxy. I age, and I fear that the work I have devoted my entire existance towards may never, in the end, be realized.

In the end, I ask myself if it really matters whose head the hat rests under. We all possess in us this innate potential to do great good, as well as great evil. Anyone can wear a hat, but I find myself wearing THIS particular one, which under its brim rests the hopes and dreams of a nation.

Such a fragile thing is belief! Is it possible that all society truly requires is a man upon a pedestal, hands outstretched before him, speaking in an air of command?

During my service, to this great nation - I call it a nation, for what else am I to call a unified Nepleslia? - I have seen men throw away their lives, simply for belief. Every day I have asked, and for belief, I have been granted unquestioning loyalty even unto death. Some of my hardest decisions have not been upon the battlefield, but have in fact been behind a desk, all awash with the guilt that men - men just like I - are living and dying at my behest. I say, I know in my heart, that they die for a greater world to come. But that is my belief.

It is their belief - my belief - that will endure. Whether it is I that must wear this hat, or some other man, the belief in a greater world must not be allowed to die. It is a fire in a windstorm; though a weary burden, those of us who must carry it, must never let it fall. The power of belief is astounding. It warms the hearts of all but those who realize they hold the torch.

There have been times - yes - when I have myself been afraid that I am not worthy to hold the belief of a nation within my hands. There have been times that I have doubted myself, and that I have flagged, and those times I have clung hardest to this hat. It is those times that I have stood the straightest. For to seem unhurried, to be calm in the face of great crisis - that is what a hero must do. For if the light snuffs, it casts all to darkness.

The torch must never fall.

 

[Tom]

Entry #2: On the Qualities that Make a Heroic Leader

For all the doubts that I hold in my abilities - and of these there are many - I would be remiss to fail mentioning those higher qualities that a durable leader should possess in plenitude. For heroism and leadership don't necessarily go hand in hand - history is littered with great heroes who made disappointing leaders - and one must have adequate amounts of both to truly succeed.

The appearance of the leader is simply one facet of a well-cut diamond - of which each face must be balanced and flawless. The style is important, of course, but style alone only makes a dandy man well-suited for bedding women. That is not to take away from the importance of keeping oneself visually appealing; a man who pays no heed to appearance likely dooms himself to a life of obscurity, able to affect from a distance, perhaps, but never in the public eye.

Those qualities that rest under the hat must be possessed in abundance as well. Many mistakenly consider high intelligence a prerequisite for office, as if a high I.Q. guarantees automatic admission to the highest echelons of the political kingdom. Inevitably, the question is asked: would not these intelligent men be more suited to wear the cap? No! This could not be further from the truth! The gaps in your knowledge are easily filled by the members of your council, of whose advice you selectively chose to believe or ignore.

Of far greater importance is a capacity for proactive critical thinking, which I define as an ability to question assumptions and regulate one's own judgments in spite of outside influence. There are many mercenaries and charlatans in the world of politics, and they make quick work of leaders who are unable to act decisively.

A leader must have a will of iron, to be able to sustain the blows of rivals, to push through unpopular legislation when necessary, and to make the hard decisions that often leave bitter resentment in their wake. He must willingly leap into the fiery barbs flung by his adversaries so that he may defend his beliefs and his decisions, for a leader who does not possess mettle will find himself with fewer allies than he started with.

It's unfortunate, but this is human nature. A leader who makes bad decisions with conviction draws allies to his side simply because he possesses that quality our frail species calls passion. Passion is the kindling that lights the flame of inspiration. A leader must be enthusiastic about their cause because enthusiasm is contagious.

And how quick does contagion spread! In nary a month did Nepleslia go from being a protectorate of Yamatai to an independent nation!

But even then, one must find a way to control that energy, lest it burn out like a candle. The passion needs to be directed towards good use, and the leader must be able to distance himself from that energy when circumstance demands it. Like a master sculptor, he must take that raw energy - his boulder - and chisel patiently at it, step by step, until his masterpiece is complete. Woe be to the leader who only cuts large, angry swaths from the stone, for in his haste he either destroys the work or finishes with one of inferior quality!

To some, it may appear presumptuous for the leader to assume he should be the one holding the chisel in the first place. But one must always remember that a stone of exquisite quality, left uncut, is just another piece of mediocre rock left to sit and erode in the sands of time.

History never remembers the uncut stone.