The Way It Could Be.

Part 11 of 12.

Day 3: Afternoon

By the time he returned to the green there were more people there than Mike had seen previously, mostly milling around tables and stalls set up on the edge of the Green outside the workshop and under its front awning. Some people were still setting up, carrying in boxes and taking things out to put on the benches.

“Market’s open,” said Pete. “Go and have a look at what’s on sale.”

“A lot of people here,” Said Mike.

“Yes, people come in from the surrounding homesteads and hamlets on Saturday afternoon.”

Mike strolled through the throng. Everyone seemed to be chatting to someone, some in little groups. Many were trading, buying things or carrying boxes away. Many were just sitting in chairs on the Green. Kids were running around noisily.

At first Mike couldn’t work out what was unusual about the scene but then it dawned on him that everything on sale had been grown or made by the sellers. There were no imported items for sale, and no trashy trivia. There were many food items, mostly unpackaged fruit and vegetables, but also pottery, leatherwork, candles, bottled jams and honey and pickles, clothing, materials, bundles of things that looked as if they would be used in craft work. He spoke to a lady sitting at a bench with table mats, croche work, table clothes, and a quilt, and found that these were samples and that she was mainly taking orders for items to make, discussing patterns with potential customers. Some of the vendors had very little to sell, a few boxes of seedlings or fruit, a small range of tool handles shaped from saplings. One table had bottles of honey with different flavours. Several had toys for sale, some wooden and many soft sewn. Some had only one item to sell, such as a bike. A chest of draws had a sign on it, but no vendor in sight. Mike heard more than one pair arranging a barter rather than a monetary exchange.

He had almost arrived at the last table when he spotted Barry and a lady sitting at a bench talking. He watched idly for a few moments, then it struck him that here was an opportunity to sort Jan out. Before long the lady left and he went across, sat down and started talking to Barry. He toyed with the idea of asking straight out whether was an eye surgeon. But he thought it best to approach indirectly.

“How have you found your visit?” Barry asked. This led to a discussion of some of Mike’s experiences and inevitably to the hunt. Barry had the language and manners Mike thought would go with him being a professional but then he noticed Barry’s forearms were almost weightlifter grade. On one was a large sticking plaster. Mike saw a chance here.

“What happened?”

“I got hit by a hot rivet. Didn’t have it aligned well and when my stiker hit it shot out sideways. Good workmen don’t injure themselves they say.”

“So you do metal work?”

“Oh yes, not so often these days though. We were repairing a heavy gate and…”

A voice interrupted, “Barry, Emily says she wants you to bring a lettuce home…sorry to interrupt but I’m on the run.”

Mike turned to see a boy looking over his shoulder as he walked away. Barry called, ”Alright. Are you going to perform tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

Just then, over Barry’s shoulder Mike saw Jan on the other side of the green and immediately he wondered what would she think if she knew he was trying to pump Barry. She’d probably think he wasn’t very good at it, for an investigative journalist.

Barry had turned back as if to start talking again, and Mike saw there was about a second in which the conversation would go one way or the other. What would Jan think? More to the point what had she said? Would she want him to find out? The thoughts collided and indecision took up more than that one second. Barry was saying, “They’re just great those kids. They’re a gym club. They’ll be doing some tumbling and balancing for us later.” Mike chatted about this for a while and knew he was not going to try creeping up on eye surgery, at least not this time…maybe there’d be another chance later in the day.

Then it hit him. These were his last few hours at the Glen. He was getting the only train stopping that day, the 9.35 p.m.

A change of pace was evident. People were beginning to pack up their wares, and some of the tables were being carried back into the workshop. A loud gong sounded just as Pete came over to where Mike was sitting.

“Working bee time. We organise some of them for a couple of hours mid afternoon on festival day. Suits people who live further out. Remember you and I are down to have a crack at Elsie’s tree?”

“Hey I’m on that gang too,” Barry said, getting up.

Pete led into the workshop. “Trevor’s in charge of this job.”

“ I didn’t think you had any bosses around here.”

“We don’t. Trev’s just taken on nutting out the coordination. He’s had a look at the job and knows what we’ll need to do and what gear. By the way out here is our public works depot. See, lots of chains, crow bars, saws, jacks, tarps, shackles, you name it. All the gear a working bee might need. Anyone can borrow it anytime but its town property mainly used to do town maintenance chores. Mostly hand tools you’ll note, although we have a small tractor.”

A four people were rummaging around, assembling ropes and chains and saws. Pete made sure Mike had met the others.

“Are we taking the chainsaw Trev?”

“No, the cross cut will do. My technique needs a bit of practice. Actually it’s not a big tree.”

They picked up the gear and walked out through the back of the workshop.

“What’s the tree problem?” asked Mike.

“Ah, very sad,” Barry explained. “It’s a lovely blue gum that’s suddenly gone delinquent. Got a lean on it in the big rain and blow we had last week. Must have weakened the roots’ hold. Anyway the bigger it gets the more it’ll threaten Elsie’s veranda, so he’d better go.”

After less than ten minutes walk they came to a cottage on the edge of the settlement. An elderly lady wearing an apron came out to greet them and led the way down the side of the house. There was the culprit. Mike’s response surprised himself. What a pity to have to cut down such a nice healthy tree. It was really only middling size , but a noble beast, well proportioned with a long straight trunk and a heavy canopy.

People went straight into action without much discussion. Everyone seemed to start doing something useful making Mike feel a little out of place.

“What do you think Jack, take the one cable over to the Blackbutt there? That’ll be enough to make sure it swings to the East a bit more?’

“Yes, that’ll be fine. You organise that and I’ll start taking a scarf out.”

Jack was standing at the butt of the tree with an axe, looking around to line up the fall, then he started to chop out a V. Meanwhile Trevor and one of the others had sorted out a roll of light cord and he began to swing a small weight, then let it go, to sail up and over a high branch. Cheers. “Hey you’re getting good at that.”

One of them pulled the cord over the bough as another clipped the wire rope to the other end and soon they had the wire shackled to a block and tackle chained to the base of the blackbutt. Three of them took up the slack and formed a line on the heavy rope running from the triple block. Meanwhile Jack had finished cutting, put the axe aside and took one end of the double crosscut saw Trevor had ready. They knelt and after a few short strokes to get the blade through the bark they swung into a long powerful action ripping fast through the wood and spraying orange sawdust onto Trevor’s boot. After only a few seconds they paused and Trevor stood to check everything. “Better take it up now I think,” he said to the team on the rope, and they leaned into their task making the top of the tree sway. He and Jack got back to the sawing and within less than a minute cracking was audible and then it slowly started to fall. Trevor and Jack stood and stepped back diagonally a few paces. The team on the rope began to move back faster and ended up running as their pulling swung the tree to crash on the open lawn.

As the noise subsided Mike was surprised to hear a mournful wailing. He looked to the side and one of the rope team was standing with arms in the air chanting in a high pitched voice. Some of the others joined in.

Mike looked at Pete quizzically. ”Oh it’s a lament, a wake, funeral oration you might say. Sadness for the loss of a noble life, and gratitude for his services to us.”

“Services?’’

“Yes, for what he has done and for what he is about to do.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s about to become log cabin walls and flooring. We’ll knock him into logs now and later they’ll be taken down to the mill to be sawn. Tops will go to the ethanol plant.”

The tree had hardly hit the ground before Barry, Mandy and Mike moved in and began cutting up the branches and dragging them away to stack neatly. Barry seemed surprisingly wiry and agile for his considerable age. Mike could now see that he was capable of much more than delivering eggs.

”What’s the cabin, 6 by 4 isn’t it Trev?”

“Yes. I estimate we will only get one of each out of it. I’ll measure.”

“Leave enough to lop off that scarf bit.”

Trevor used a pocket tape and a crayon to mark the lengths.

Pete said to Mike, “We’ll get two nice logs out of this trunk for the log cabin we ‘re going to build down near the big lake. It ‘ll be another little bunk house for a couple of visitors.”

Trevor and Jack had the cross cut saw flying again and soon cleaned up the jagged end of the log. Some of the others moved in with two crobars and bits of branches to lift the trunk where the first main cut would go, to prevent the saw jamming. Mike began dragging one of the bigger branches to the heap. Amanda said to him, “Wait a bit, I’ll get another little post out of that one.”

“Alright. Post for what?”

“Nothing in particular but we hack up the thin bits into whatever will be useful if we can. That lower end is straight enough to make a rail or small post. The scruffy bits will become fire wood we’ll leave for Elsie.”

“Damn!” someone said, having got his saw jammed in one of the bigger branches. “I thought the balance was further back and the cut would open as I got through, but it’s leaning on that other branch there. Can someone lift the end a bit?”

“I’ll do it,” said Mike and began to climb over branches. They both lifted but couldn’t free the saw. “Hang on, I’ll get my back under it and use my legs.”

They were both perched awkwardly with feet on branches a metre off the ground but Mike was able to lift enough to allow Dan to saw furiously until cracking was heard and the weight came off. But as Mike moved out of the way his foot slipped and his shin hit the branch he’d been standing on. He let out a yelp although he knew it wasn’t anything serious, but he sat back awkwardly on another light branch, which bent, and he found he couldn’t get his foot out.

“What’s up?” called Trevor.

“Damn. I’m stuck.” Then with some alarm he realised he was sliding sideways and down, further jamming his leg.

From out of nowhere Barry scrambled through the foliage, plunged a crowbar between the offending branches and quickly levered them apart enabling Mike to slide backside first to the ground.

“Aw, bad luck mate, you’ve barked your shin,” he said. “Mike’s barked his shin.”

“Its nothing; bit of skin off,” as he sat rubbing his leg vigorously. “Thanks for getting me out.”

“Sure you’re OK? Mandy, can you get the kit?”

Mike hobbled out of the branches and sat on the log. Mandy and Barry fussed around and had a bandage on in no time. “We always bring a first aid kit,” said Pete.

“Any brandy in it?” asked Mike, as he stood up.

“How’s it feel?”

“Fine, no problem. Thanks doc. Just send the bill.”

“Sorry you got clobbered,” said Barry.

“No problem. Should’ve been more careful. Thanks again for the quick crow bar work.” He couldn’t help wondering whether the arms responsible belonged to a blacksmith or an eye surgeon.

Mike helped Mandy put the kit together again and then went back to helping with the dragging and stacking.

His shin was a bit sorer than he’d let on, but the event had a strange effect on him. It impacted as a kind of turning point, an initiation. He was a member of this team, doing a humble but important job, doing it quietly and efficiently. At last he had ceased being a mere useless observer, an aloof outsider taking notes on the natives, and had joined them and felt good about being useful, and was conscious of a vague sense of commararderie. Nothing like what it must be like on the battle field of course, but it’s nice to work with friends to get the job done, and to take a little pride in how well we’re doing it, and to appreciate how your mates are competent and conscientious, all of us quietly doing something good for someone. And as a bonus, to have gone through a painful initiation ceremony!

Then he realised, he hadn’t thought to bring his notepad. But strangely he was not wishing he had it. It had symbolised his separateness, his role as outside observer, studying the natives. Somehow that was no longer quite how he felt.

In no time the poor old blue gum had been reduced to a few neat and pathetically small piles of logs and sticks. As Jack was raking up the last of the wood chips and leaves and others were winding up ropes Elsie appeared on the veranda with tea, biscuits and scones. They sat in view of the job well done, chatting and complimenting Elsie on her cooking. She thanked them for dealing with the tree, but Mike thought she could have been more expressive. He would have made much more fuss if people had done all that for him. After all to get a tree lopper in would have cost several hundred dollars.

After a little thought as they were walking back he mentioned this to Pete. Pete said, ”I think the difference is that we’re quite used to mutual assistance around here. Elsie’s grateful, we know that, but she didn’t need to go on about it. It’s just standard practice that if you suddenly have a tree problem you can’t handle people will organise to come and fix it. Now what you would not know is that for decades Elsie’s been doing things like that for everyone else. She’s not so active now but she helps on working bees and takes loads of veggies and eggs down to the surplus benches, and is always ready to come over and help others. She helped with organising the hunt.”

“Yes I can see that’s different. Where I come from if someone cut your tree down for nothing it would be unusual and you’d feel it appropriate to make a big fuss. “

“Yes, you mainstream people live as a individuals who have to buy and pay for everything you get, so you feel obliged to repay precisely, even if it’s only thanks. Here we’re giving and receiving all the time so this one tree event doesn’t stand out as something that needs to be paid for especially. We all know that although we in a sense gave something today, that’s only part of the big picture where we get a lot in the long term.”

“Is there any sense of keeping a tally?”

“No. You know that in the long run you’ll get as good as you gave, more or less. And of course, did we give anything really, on balance? Or did we have an enjoyable time? Something different to do. A chance to exercise some skills we haven’t used for a while. Got some exercise. Nice to work with a team that knows what its doing, because we’ve dealt with lots of trees before. Nice to feel that our town can do this competently and easily -- we have the gear and the experience and the organization. Nice to work with people who’re pitching in to help someone. Nice to think about the social credit, the solidarity events like this maintain. Would you have preferred to sit at home and watch a football game?”

“No, despite my shin. Maybe we should go back and pay Elsie. Hey isn’t Barry fit for his age?

“Yes. Older people around here are in good shape. Look at Elsie, and Gran.”

“I guess it’s because they keep so active. By the way, I’ve decided not to sue.”

“Oh that’s a relief. By the way, we’ve decided not to charge for the medical attention.”

“Did I tell you, Elsie is one of our village elders?”

“What do you mean, that she’s old. I can see that.”

“No, Sorry. I mean she’s one of our wise ones, a witch doctor. Know what they do?”

“Elsie casts spells?”

“Well, she can work magic.”

“Here we go again. I’ll just shut up and you’ll explain.”

“OK. Elsie’s one of the people the town has asked to be an elder. The elders are just people who have a lot of experience and respect and who are sensible and caring and sometimes if there’s a problem that’s proving difficult we’ll take it to them. Maybe informally some people will go and chat it over with one or two of the elders but sometime if it’s a big and difficult problem several of them will get together to try to nut it out.

“But what about the town meetings? Aren’t they for deciding what to do when there’s a problem?”

“Yes they’re the best way to work out technical things, like where to put that garbage gas unit, but some things are best dealt with another way, like interpersonal problems, people not getting on well, or someone doing things that go against town traditions or not pulling their weight well. Sometimes a person will unwittingly be doings something that’s not good for themselves. Sometimes one of us will suspect that someone has problems but isn’t letting on. Usually anyone will try to help if there’s a problem but sometimes with the difficult problems people like Elsie and Gran are the best one’s to think out how to deal with things sensitively.”

“Why elders though. Why not a committee with young people on it?”

“It’s not really a committee. It’s just that about ten people have become known as the one’s who are really good at working things like this out. They have had a lot of experience with the town and its people. They can remember past issues, strengths, weaknesses, solutions. They know this or that approach worked fifteen years ago with Mabel or Fred. They know that ten years ago Herb had a breakdown over something and there are things he’d rather not go over now. They know how people here react in different situations. They’ve seen the emergencies and crises. Above all they have had a lot of experience with town solidarity; they know what binds and what undermines, and they know how crucial it is to maintain solidarity.”

“So what if someone defies some ruling? Do the witchdoctors stick pins in their effigy?”

“No, they just put a curse on them and they die slowly. Actually they do work unseen magic. One of them might just go and have a cup of tea with someone and chat discretely about the problem, and lo and behold many a problem just seems to fade away. Often it’s simply a matter of finding out what’s really bugging someone, and then thinking about a win-win way through. Many tribes had these kinds of mechanisms you know. The witch doctor’s main role in the tribe is to attend to its spiritual health, but often there are networks and traditions whereby many people can help resolve tensions as soon as they are identified, or instantly come in if there’s an accident or a death and care for people. You got some where you life?”

“Yeah, we got the problems, but in a nuclear family you are on your own solving them mate. But what about the edicts, the rulings? Do you have to follow them, at risk of penalty of some kind? Defy the elders and get shunned?”

“No, of course not. You can totally ignore them if you like, with no fuss. The elders only try to come up with suggestions and help.”

--------------------------

.

As they came into the workshop to return the equipment Jan was there. Pete called out loudly, “We’re back. Heroes return from great battle against Nature. Tree vanquished. We won! We cut the puny bastard to shreds. Human superiority confirmed again. Mere wood no match for steel forged in fire and shaped by the mind of man. And Mike was magnificent. Fought bravely. Right in the thick of the fray, flailing about with bits of the fallen giant. But he suffered grievous wounds. The enemy got through his guard and dealt him a dastardly to the shin – how low can you get! Hail to the brave warrior here. Hang up your shield great Sir Michael and put yer feet up mate.”

“Peter – Shaddup! Want a cuppa?”

“Not me. Elsie filled us up.”

“Well get moving or you’ll be late for the banquet.”

-------------

Back on the Green Mike saw people setting up tables and chairs and unloading things from barrows and some horse-drawn trailers. The tables had been spread with loads of tucker and elaborate decorations. One was an ornate silver galleon. “What an odd thing to have on the table,” Mike said to Jan.

She laughed. “That’s the salt. You know, at the royal table there would be an elaborate salt container and the really superior people sat between it and the king. If you were seated below the salt you were of inferior status. Now where’s the salt on this table?”

Mike looked. “Right at the end.”

“Correct. No one sits above or below this one! There are other symbolic things on the table too.”

Mike thought about jotting that in his notepad, but couldn’t be bothered getting it out of his shirt pocket.

Boys and girls dressed in peasant finery came out of the workshop carrying large pots of hot soup and bread. The gong sounded. “Grub’s on !” said Pete for Mike’s benefit. No one else needed the prompt. People swarmed to the tables and began loading up their plates. Before long everyone was tucking into the banquet, some sitting in deck chairs, some wandering around handing around plates of food, some standing in little groups. Chatter and laughter almost drowned out the sound of the string quartet playing their hearts out just inside the ring of tables. “One of our pumpkins is in this soup,” said Jan.

The peasants brought out other dishes from time to time. The late afternoon light began to fade prematurely. “Rain’s still about,” said Pete.

“Hope it holds off until the performance is over,” said Mike.

“Yes, but if it starts we’ll just cram into the workshop.”

From behind him came a cheery “Hi Mike!” He turned and there were four girls, one of them Amy. Then he realised the one next to her was Penny. All wore big smiles on their faces.

“Oh, hi there?”

He stared to see what Penny looked like without her mask.

“Heard you hurt your leg,” said Amy.

“Yeah. Hey we both got a crook shank now. How’s your’s?”

“Alright. How’d you like the hunt?”

“Great. More to the point,” he said turning to Penny, “how’d you get on. I was worried about you and your mate there for a while.”

“We were OK,” Penny said. All the girls seemed to be in a slightly giggly mood, probably hyped up by the party atmosphere. Kids were hurtling about everywhere and making a lot of noise.

“Is Charlie still here?” asked Mike.

“No. They all left on a bus while you were on working bee.”

“Oh, sorry I didn’t say goodbye.”

“He was great wasn’t he? Funny guy. I thought he was mean and nasty at first.”

“Me too. But I guess that hunt does strange things to people.”

“Sure does,” said Amy, still beaming. “When are you going home?”

Tonight.”

”Pity you can’t stay longer. There’re lots of places we could show you. You haven’t been to the hills at all.”

“Well maybe next time, eh?”

“OK, it’s a date.”

They ran off as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving Mike a little confused. For some reason he was in Amy’s good books at last.

About ten youngsters began to put down mats in a row, and positioned a mini tramp. The gong sounded and kids began to tumble across the mats, build pyramids and generally have a great time. It was more like a fun work out for the club than a performance, with the big ones helping the littlies to go for moves they were still learning. It seemed to Mike as if some of them were good enough to get a job in a circus. Two were excellent jugglers and one had almost mastered unicycle. There was much goofing around and miming. At times all the other action would stop as two or three acted out a comical little scene, like the two drunks trying but failing to have a fight. A boy and a girl did some pair balancing to music from the quartet that moved into a semi-circle close behind them.

A clown came on, demanded to have a go at everything, and crashed in a variety of comical ways. But then he charged at the mini tramp, flew high into the air, and his baggy pants came off. He ripped his jacket and face mask off almost before he landed, to reveal a lithe and fit looking acrobat in tights. He turned, and ran back into a blur of tumbling, to the cheers of the crowd. The troupe packed up and left abruptly.

Within minutes the quartet had somehow grown into a large group which began belting out lively tunes. People got back to milling around, eating and talking. A few began to dance in front of the musicians. It was now fairly dark, with the low cloud ominous but holding off.

Amanda and Alice were sitting with them. Harry and Frieda came over and chairs and benches were shuffled into a rough circle around a small fire in one of the stone places.

“How’s it been?” Harry asked Mike. “How do you like our little Glen?”

“Just great,” said Mike. “Really cute. But a lot of how it works is still hard to figure out though.”

“Oh, such as?”

“Well, one thing is…I guess…why the pace is so relaxed. I’ve explained to Pete and Jan, where I come from life’s about struggling all the time to find something to produce and sell, and its not easy. It doesn’t seem to be like that here. Most of you seem to spend most of your time pottering around doing things you feel like, without having to worry about selling your labour or some product.”

“Yeah, we think you lot work about three times too hard!” Amanda said. “Much of that’s because you’re forced to waste your energy in zero-sum struggles against each other for things that should not be scarce in the first place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we avoid the terrible problem of vast numbers of people pushing on doing things that are unnecessary, harmful, or criminal, simply because they have no alternative way of getting an income. For example why do some people continue to advertise cigarettes, or produce weapons. Most of them would probably happily stop doing those things if they could get a job doing something else. But that’s not possible in your economy; it’s difficult to get a job doing anything. So you have many millions of people working at so many stupidly unnecessary and wasteful things.”

Harry had to jump in. “Meanwhile many people are trying desperately to begin little businesses, and they go bankrupt because there isn’t room for them. Whatever they’re trying to get into there’s already too many people doing that. And then there’s all the time and effort and worry and resource use due to firms competing against each other for the same limited market, like Coke and Pepsi trying to get soft drink sales from each other. All because you have an economy where everyone must search for something to produce and sell when there’s already far more being produced and sold than is needed.”

Amanda again. “We avoid all that terrible waste of resources and time and work and the wreckage that comes from the struggle to be among the winners. We do it simply by making sure just enough of our productive capacity is organised to produce what’s needed.“

Suddenly Mike thought to ask, “What about disabled people here. How are they cared for?”

Harry said, ”Well, really no one’s disabled. We all just have different abilities. I can’t sing. Percy Hodges can’t walk. Daphne Simpson can’t speak well. But there’re useful and satisfying things we can all do. Daphne’s twelve now and she’ll probably never be able to do arithmetic but she helps her family on the farm, joins in working bees, helps backstage at concerts, and does lots of useful things. When she feeds the chickens that’s something that needs doing and its less for others to do. So we simply make sure all people who have some kind of difficulty are able to contribute to some of the work that needs doing. It’s all looked after by a subgroup of the economics committee, the one that allocates paid work and makes sure everyone who wants work gets a share.”

Predictably Amanda took a more critical angle. “Think about how your society deals with disability. It doesn’t provide enough jobs for people with university degrees, let alone for people like Daphne. Her parents would be left with the problem because no one in her street would help much. Her parents would have to go to work each day so she’d soon be put in an institution, creating a need for professional carers, but your government would refuse to give enough money to provide for her, so she’d be bored and neglected at best. She’d probably have a rotten life and would be a social cost. Here she has a nice life and helps to meet costs.”

“And she knows she’s a valued contributor.”

“It’s the same with aged people,” Harry said. “To you they’re a troublesome and costly problem. Firstly you cut them off from making any contribution, through compulsory retirement, and then you have to provide expensive housing and professional care. They have nothing to do all day. Firstly we don’t have retirement. People with life time experience just go on doing their job, tapering down as they wish, maybe teaching more than doing. They’re of huge value in the community because of their experience and knowledge, especially their memory of local conditions and events. They know there can be a severe frost or drought that affects this or that crop every ten years, or that variety of grape just doesn’t thrive here, or that something was tried years ago and didn’t work, or bush fires have never taken in that gully. They know people well so they can feed in advice on how best to handle problems. They can do many valuable things within the household economy, like cook fabulous dinners -- what skill’s more important than that? They are priceless assets, valued for their wisdom, with many important things to do all day.”

It had become dark although the banquet was now lit from the workshop and from a number of fires that had been started in stone fireplaces around the edge of the green. Mike made what he swore would be his last trip to the food tables, dawdled back. The others had gone. Pete was sitting back in his chair, legs out in front towards a cosy fire and hands behind his head, just staring at the green now cluttered with groups mostly sitting and lying on the grass

“What are you thinking Pete.”

After a few seconds Pete said, “I’m looking at this scene and thinking to myself, this is what it’s all about isn’t it? This is the peak. Who could want anything more than to be part of this. A fabulous feast, after a great day. Fabulous entertainment. Bottle of Maggie’s moonshine beside me, half empty now though. And among people who are not just my friends, but people who are so…admirable, noble. That’s the most valuable thing you know. These people are not just friendly and caring and helpful. They are great citizens. They care about, think about their society, they focus on the good of the town, they can sort issues out, they can deal with difficult cases and express criticism without rancor, they can defuse conflict. They are very very wise. And they are humble. They are not conceited or concerned about image and status. Look at Gran over there. She knit’s the best jumpers in the universe, and cooks the best baked dinners and Christmas cakes, but isn’t in the least bit interested in being praised. And, most important of all I think, they are not greedy. They don’t want titles or wealth or luxuries or high incomes or big cars and houses. They’re content with frugal sufficiency. Most of them fiercely despise wealth. They know it’s evil and irrelevant. It endangers solidarity and quality of life. It’s a distraction from things that really matter, like the conditions that gave us this banquet. And don’t you just love Harry’s duds. Harry refuses to speak proper English you know, because of his contempt for the pretentious airs of the privileged classes. Wears trousers that risk prosecution for indecent exposure, despises the fees his city colleagues charge, and if the wind blows the roof off my house tonight he’ll be over before it hits the ground, and Frieda will be five seconds behind him with some hot scones wrapped in a tea towel. Look at Toby over there. He could never get a job in your society. Can’t even read or write well, but he is a great fellow, always cheerful, always helpful, works hard on working bees, cares for his sheep as if they were close relatives. These people are good, humble, solid…citizens. Without them you can’t have a satisfactory society. Just knowing they exist is the main thing that sustains my morale.”

Mike said nothing. Pete rambled ahead, almost as if Mike wasn’t there.

“And I’ll tell you another thing about them. They are …critical. They think clearly and fiercely and thoroughly. They’ll nut things out, logically. They will see the faults, they’ll see the better way. They’ll look for the assumptions and check them out, and they’ll tell you where you are wrong, nicely. They’ll give credit where it’s due. That’s so reassuring. I know that if there’s something I need to get right or the town needs to get right, there are people here who’ll help with that and will be good at it. Why are they like that? Because again we all know that our dependence on this locality means we must get the right answers or we won’t get the food and the water and the energy and the community we must have. In that situation you don’t muck around, you don’t tolerate sloppy or emotional or invalid or deceitful reasoning. You have to get it right. And you have to be able to reason and explain things well to others, because we all have to agree on what to do.”

“I can see the logic there, but I’m surprised at you saying people are critical. They seem nice to me, not likely to find fault. In fact I sometimes think you’re all much too easy going and nice to each other.”

“Oh, critical doesn’t mean hostile or, nasty or even negative. It means…thorough and careful and reliable I think. It means being determined to sort the issue out, get to the bottom of it, check. It means making sure something is OK, like a plan or how a firm is going. Its having the courage to tell you something you might not want to hear, and the skill to do it without offending. Sometimes you’d think someone was a bit abrupt or abrasive, saying ‘I don’t think that’s right’, or ‘Why?’ but after they explain you can say, ‘OK, I see, yes I think you have a point there.”

‘OK, I agreed.”

“To question is not to contradict or condemn or attack. I’m delighted to have my ideas questioned all the time, because that means others are interested in helping me sort out what I mean and whether my position is sound. Saves me wasting my time on a dud idea or project. People around here are very critical and very nice about it. It’s important to be both, because its important to convey a different view in a friendly way, so there’s the best chance it’ll be taken on board. These people are very good at all this, because we have had years of practice at these kinds of interpersonal skills that are crucial for making the town work.”

Pete hit the bottle again.Neither said anything for some time.

“For several thousand years humans have wished they could find the secret that would emancipate them from the horrors tyrants, governments and their peers inflict -- and here in the Glen we have it. It’s not powerful witchcraft or paying to the gods, orf heroes or leaders. It’s good people like these. It’s simply good citizens. Gawd, don’t Maggie’s booze make a man rattle on.”

He took another swig from the bottle.

“Not that they are saints mind you. I’m not saying they’re perfect. They are full of quirks, irritating blemishes and weaknesses, me included. I drone on too much, even without Maggies moonshine. Jan’s too impulsive at times. Harry overdoes the ragamuffin yokel thing. He tries too hard to contradict the typical arrogance of the professional. Tom can be as stubborn as a mule.”

“And Andrea gets too angry, “ Mike cut in.

“Yes; she’s right of course, but there’s no point getting that cranky. So they’re all lumpy, scruffy, imperfect humans, but they are precious. You, young Micheal, cannot possibly get out of your mess without extraordinary ordinary people like the one’s we have around here. You aliens can’t do it. So you can never be secure from the destruction you’re bringing on yourselves.”

“I’m not sure I follow you there.”

“Ah it must be the grog. Let me put it this way.” He thought for a few seconds. ”What’s the most precious thing we have here Mike? What is the core source of our great wealth and security?”

Mike didn’t say anything.

“We’re very secure in so many important ways, aren’t we? If a storm damages my house I know people will come over immediately to help out, and I know that tomorrow they’ll start work repairing it. I know that if I’m ill lots of people will care and will drop in and will do the housework or take me to the hospital. I know there’ll always be some one in the neighbourhood center I can chat to or watch potting or get advice from. I know there will always be a warm gathering of friends at Mario’s most nights and many there on Saturday night and there will be great entertainment. I know there will always be Mary’s Dell to sit in, and this beautiful landscape to soak up. I know I’ll always have stacks of perfect fruit and vegetables. I know people around here will think carefully about what’s good for us all, they are very concerned to see what’s best for the town done, they’ll take the trouble to discus and research. They know it’s crucial to sort issues out and get the right answers, or we’ll all be sorry, so they don’t obscure issues or bluff or try to get away with shoddy thinking. I can trust them; I respect their wisdom and conscientiousness. I know they’ll examine ideas critically but sympathetically. They know the history of this place, its soils, past issues, what people want, what we have found works best. They are good, reliable concerned people with the welfare of this place at heart. They would not tolerate for an instant someone being poor or unemployed or lonely here. Above all they understand the global situation, and that the simpler way is crucial if global problems are to be solved. And they clearly understand that dependence on leaders is not acceptable, that its no good expecting a few leaders to make the decisions that will lead an apathetic mass to satisfactory solutions.”

“Yes, I can see all that, but what’s it got to do with security from self destruction?”

Pete didn’t answer directly. “And what about my wealth? I am rich beyond measure aren’t I? I have access to all these skilled and caring and interesting and wise and nice people. I can learn from them almost anything, any time. I benefit from their great wisdom and skill at meetings. Look at the landscape they garden for me. Look at the perfect food, the virtuoso cooks. Look at the workshop and the dells and ponds and Alice’s poetry and the performances on Saturday night and Alvin’s fiddle. That is great wealth. Now what secures it for me?

“Yeah…you get it from the people here, from their mentality and values and ways of thinking.”

“Yes, that’s right. Whether I have a billion in the bank or nothing makes no difference to my real wealth does it? My great wealth comes from my situation, and especially from the people here who created it and guarantee its security. The most precious of all things, the source of the wealth and security and happiness, is not a powerful economy, or technical wizardry, or a charismatic Prime Minister, or great military power or sacrifices to the gods. It’s responsible citizenship. It’s most ordinary people having the right ideas, values, habits, ways and commitments in their minds of and the hearts. Without this you cannot achieve a good society and you cannot guarantee its maintenance.”

Mike nodded gain.

“Think about Mary’s Dell, that beautiful, magical place, surrounded by all those magnificent Spotted Gums. That timber would be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Now what if Ben Todman wanted to cut those trees down and sell them? They’re on his land y ou know. Should I worry about that possibility?”

…

“What if some entrepreneur wanted to build a supermarket in the center of town and put all our small firms out of business? Should I worry about that possibility? I don’t, because I know that no one around here would tolerate proposals like that for a micro-second. There’s my security…in the knowledge that people around here have the right values and are fiercely vigilant and know how very important it is to protect what we have, and could not be budged from those commitments. I know that if problems that could threaten our way of life started to develop people would identify them immediately and deal with them sensibly and cooperatively and effectively. And they do that not out of any sense of burden. They do it because they like being in control of their fate, because they get immense satisfaction in keeping this paradise in good order, in taking responsibility for their situation, in keeping their town in the shape that brings such a high quality of life to all.”

“OK, OK but that’s the Glen. What about evil in the world, far away? Why the wars, the poverty, the hunger? The plunder by the rich? There are bad people, bad regimes. That’s about something other than citizenship isn’t it?”

“But those things don’t happen primarily because there are evil people who want to pillage and plunder. There are indeed a few evil people, but the problems are there because the rascals are allowed to get away with their nonsense, because there isn’t enough citizenship. The bad guys would get nowhere if there were citizens who would not tolerate war or poverty or hunger.”

“And that’s where leaders come in surely. If we had half-decent politicians they wouldn’t get us into wars and…”

Pete almost bellowed, “No! No! We have to get rid of all leaders. Don’t you understand? Who leads in The Glen? We all do, right. It’s infantile to appeal to leaders, to expect someone or some group to save you, to run things for you. Damn it, humans will not have grown up until they take responsibility for governing themselves. That’s why we detest any reference to kings or heroes or elites or prime ministers or bosses or authorities with power over anyone. Even your fairy takes are about kings and princes and knights. Ours aren't."

“Hang on, you’re talking to the at least half converted here. I’m a republican. Agreed, no kings. Even no privileged classes. But you have to have good leaders. Why do you identify humans growing up with self government?”

“Mike, that’s absolutely fundamental. It’s the crucial step inhuman social evolution. Look, we’ve had human societies for how long, 500,000 years, or would you say a million. Many tribal and peasant societies have been pretty good, because somehow they have come to settle on good rules and procedures and values, like maintaining the environment, looking after each other, not letting some get too greedy. Now my point is that in all previous societies, and in ours today, acting in the ways that maintains society has been more or less unwitting. People in those tribes in the Upper Mattogrosso, which have survived there for thousands of years, have the values and habits that made their society possible and enabled it to endure, and they somehow reproduced those ideas and values in their kids. But they were not citizens. They would have done the right things automatically, just by following the folkways they were used to. They would not have been aware of other options. But citizens by definition are acutely aware of society and of cohesion, and of the need for critical thought about society, and they understand that social systems are human creations, machines, that can go wrong and will only work well if they’re designed well, adjusted, maintained, thought about carefully and critically all the time, and they have the desire and the will to take control of that machinery and make sure it works well. You could say that human societies have almost never had citizens yet, and that you cannot guarantee a good society unless you develop them, and that we are at a point in the five million year story where societies based on conscious, deliberate citizenship could begin…and that the global mess created by centralisation and growth and greed shows that the species is probably not going to even survive if it does not quickly develop citizens.”

Both just sat staring into the fire for some time.

Pete said, “You know, there’s another way of looking at this leadership thing. You aliens are Manichean. Your thinking is very much about good guys and bad guys. Bad guys bring problems and they have to be opposed by good guys. So there’s conflict and heroes are needed. Evil exists in the malicious will of the Hitler or the criminal or the enemy. The world would be OK if it were not for evil people. Right?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Well as I see it, again the problems are not primarily due to evil people. The problems are due mostly to lousy systems. Yes there are some lousy people too, some very evil ones. But they are not very important. What matters most is that rotten systems aren’t fixed. About one billion people are hungry. That’s not due to evil people who want them to be hungry and make them hungry for the fun of it, is it? The situation exists because too few people want the global economic system that causes hunger to be fixed. So it all comes back to citizenship, doesn’t it.”

“Yes, alright but…I’m thinking, where’s evil in the Glen. Do you have to watch for it all the time, and deal with it?”

“Well, you could say yes we do, but we don’t have to watch for evil people. What we have to watch for and fear is the weakening of citizenship. The thing that could destroy the Glen is the loss of the mentality that magically makes it work, the collectivist outlook, the readiness to do what’s good for the town, to come to working bees and committees and concerts, the fierce refusal to allow anyone to be unemployed or poor or lonely. So the great struggle is not good against evil, it’s the quiet persistent effort you have to make to make sure the right values are kept strong, to prevent loss of cohesion.”

“…But you said there are forces at work in the Glen that require and reinforce the cohesion, like the enjoyment that comes when people help each other, or go to a working bee. Weren’t you saying its automatically self-reinforcing?”

“Well yes, it has a tendency to do that, but it’s not something you can set and forget, assuming that things will inevitably stay in good shape. Cars don’t automatically keep themselves in good shape. Nor does our chicken pen. A satisfactory world can’t be achieved before the day when most people realise that their top priority must be attending to the conditions that make good societies possible. That’s not difficult. It’s like you must brush your teeth or you won’t stay in good shape. Same with a person’s health. For millions of years humans probably never thought about it but now we realise it’s a good idea to understand and do the things that keep us healthy, and that’s not difficult. We just get to the stage where people understand what’s necessary and get satisfaction from doing the things that keep their society in good health. Most people like to take a bath now and then; they easily get to the stage where doing the right thing is enjoyable. Look at Jan taking those flowers to the workshop. It’s as easy as that, when you understand all this. She did it knowing it would help to increase the satisfaction people get from living around here, knowing people would say, ’Oh, isn’t it nice someone put those flowers there for us’, and she did it because she liked doing it. Good citizenship isn’t much more difficult than brushing your teeth. How come you aliens practice the latter 50,000 times in your life, but never practise the former?”

Again a long silence.

“Look, here’s another way of seeing it all. We should think in terms of ecological relations. A society is like an ecosystem with many components and inputs and feedback mechanisms that determine its condition. Unless they are all chugging along well, meshing, providing each other with what they need, in the right quantity and at the right time, then the whole thing won’t work well, and could die. Just imagine that I gave you about 50 kg of chemicals, say a few kg of calcium, a few grams of iron, maybe 40 kg of water, a tiny bit of cobalt and some other things. Mix them in a bucket and what do you have? Nothing very interesting. But if they are just organised in the right way, those chemicals can constitute a conscious human being. They won’t be that unless every minute bit of them is performing a particular necessary function, and is getting the conditions and inputs it needs when it needs them. Rainforests are like that ,,, an enormous amount of organisms and processes, which make each other possible. The insects pollinate the trees and the trees give insects their food. From an ecological perspective the millions of elements in the system are providing each other with what they all need to thrive. But you can lose it all.”

“Yes I believe a rainforest can quickly degenerate to laterite, and have almost no life or complexity. So I can see with a society it’s about maintaining the conditions that make it all thrive.”

“And the important point is that in a thriving society where things like conscientiousness, cooperation and helpfulness are required, they are reinforced. It’s all about mutual benefit, cooperation. Your helping is pleasant, appreciated, and makes your own existence go well, so its encouraged, reinforced. The rainforest requires the bat to eat the fruit and spread the seeds, but bats don’t do it grudgingly, they like doing it. The action is reinforced. See when things are in good shape there is a harmony of purposes and actions, an automatic happy meshing and integration. In a tribe there’s no nee for police and a bureaucracy to make people do what’s necessary. In a tribe its automatic, not thought about. As I see it humans are at a point in their development where they are only beginning to realise that we have to attend to our social ecology. Good citizens understand all this, and do it willingly.”

“Yes I can see the difference. In competitive consumer society doing the socially appropriate thing is usually difficult and unpleasant, because to do it you have to go against your immediate self interest. You pay your tax but that means you have to send in money you’d rather keep. You stop at red lights, but that clashes with your desire to get there fast. Individual interests clash with the good of society. I don’t see how you can get around this. Living in society is inevitably frustrating, difficult, involving self discipline and denial.”

“The way I see it, it’s in term a of organising things so that doing the thing that will be good for our town is also to do what you find pleasant and rewarding. That’s how it is in the Glen. What helps here is the smallness of scale; you can see your action benefiting others, your town, and indirectly, yourself. That’s not so when a person in mass consumer society sends in his taxes.”

“Hmmm. Again I suspect that you are making it all look too easy, automatic.”

“Mike, think about synergism, positive feedback, mutually reinforcing effects. See your society is very competitive so if you beat someone to a job or a deal he’s resentful and the relation between the two of you is damaged, and then we won’t b e inclined to help you or be nice to you, or to others because he’ll be in a bad mood. But here all the incentives and the rewards are the other way around. If I help you get what you want, or do things that make our institutions function well and enable you to thrive, then you’re more happy and therefore more inclined to be nice and helpful to me and to others, and if you’re nice to someone then they are more likely to be nice to me. So goodness multiplies. If I show you how to grow good strawberries then there are more people in town who can provide us all with good strawberries. But where you come from, if I show you how to grow good strawberries you might then put me out of business. The goal in a good society must be to keep in place and to foster those conditions and arrangements that require and reward cooperation, so that all things flourish, like in that rainforest…because they all help each other to survive and thrive, by all contributing to the maintenance of the conditions they all need. Synergism can’t thrive in a competitive situation can it?”

Mike looked for an example but Pete didn’t give him time.

“Synergism flourishes only in an economy of giving, but dies in an economy of getting. Yours is an economy where individuals try to get things, income, goods, wealth, prestige, property, power. Goodness can’t multiply there. But the main thing in people’s minds around here is giving, not getting and your economics can’t account that. When I give you something the value received is much more than what I gave, because my giving makes you happy and then you treat others well and those people in turn are more likely to do nice things for me. Your miserable, stingy, warped, narrow economic theory can’t deal with that. It’s only good for accounting the zero-sum amounts of money wealth.

Mike changed the topic. “How unique do you think all this is? I mean the way things are here in The Glen?”

“Not at all. There are lots of little alternative villages like this now all around the world, but they’re not very conspicuous unfortunately.”

“How historically unusual is it? Do you think many other societies have had the sort of citizenship you are talking about?”

“Well as I understand it, many tribal societies, and peasant societies, and some of the early settlements in New England USA, and the Medieval Towns, were based on what you might describe as intensely responsible citizenship. They realised that their fate depended on their solidarity because the town was on its own. In New England citizens were involved in many minute decisions via town meetings, even things like how much wood was to be cut for the vicar in the year ahead. In Switzerland isolation in narrow deep valleys forced communities to take responsibility for running themselves, and to this day the central government has relatively few functions. And of course the ancient Greeks were active citizens. In fact I understand that the word they used for anyone not involved in public affairs translates into English as ‘idiot‘.”

Neither said anything for some time. Pete thought he’d droned on too long, again. Mike had been leaning back, slumped in the easy chair, with his legs stretched out, notepad in his hand. He slowly sat up, elbows on knees, staring at the fire. He slowly raised the hand holding the pad, looked at it, then leaned forward and tossed it into the fire.

After some time Pete said quietly, “Why did you do that? It must have been full of notes by now.”

Mike kept staring at the fire. “It is. But notepads are things aliens use when they observe inferior races from the outside.”

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