EDIT: On October 28, 2010, I added some in character dates to the old posts to prevent confusion by readers and participants.
IC:
INTERNAL TENSIONS
November 16, 2008
In the eighteen months passing between the present time and the ending of isolation, numerous changes occurred within the Monavian Empire. Already, new friendship treaties had been signed with the Free Republic of Lamoni, the Holy Empire of Zaheran, and the Salisbrugic Dominion of Cotenshire, among other neighbors of good repute. Monavia had joined the Delian League and was pending membership in the Fegosian Union, and was even instrumental in the founding of the Bacterial Oil Cartel. Yet, for all of these recent diplomatic accomplishments, domestic political wrangling had not ceased. If anything had changed, such wrangling had increased to unforeseen proportions.
Within the halls of Parliament, both Representative Assemblymen and Senators entered disagreements. Some were the normal sort, concerning the applicability or legality of certain policies, and others were made over divergent views of legislation. When difference of opinion broke out into open dispute, whether within the newspapers or on the airwaves, arguments within Parliament became objects of public fixation. Among these prominent controversies was the administration of the position of the Senate's presiding officer, the Office of Chancellor.
The current Chancellor, Richard1 Hanover, had won reelection in 2007. His post was not to come up until 2012, five years later, at a time when he was considering the possibility of yet another run for the office, however, he has considerate of a proposal to represent his province in the Senate as a regular senator. While his approval remained quite high with most of his colleagues, some vehemently disapproved of his policies, which were supportive of the Royalist Party, and tactics used to promote said policies. These critics did not employ polite conversation among themselves when deriding Hanover's agenda by using such words as “questionable” and “disputed”, and instead employed terms of such vulgarity as to be unfit for print. The majority of this conversation, if it even could be referred to as such, took place behind closed doors, but that did not preclude any of it from spilling out into the halls of Parliament.
Chancellor Hanover’s closest friend in the Senate was the Right Honorable Bruce Bates, a Royalist Senator who chaired the Foreign Relations Committee. While most “committees” in the normal sense of the word were mocked as being inefficient and able to easily destroy ideas, the one run by Senator Bates operated in a much more agreeable fashion, one which earned him both the respect and distinct admiration of many colleagues within his party.
Bates had many personal issues to attend to since his wife, Catherine, was appointed to the position of Monavian Ambassador to Kurona. She often spent long amounts of time abroad, although regular telephone calls were still happening between the two of them, and Catherine’s term of service in Kurona was to end in the summer of 2009. The aging man of fifty-one years was therefore able to retain his opulent and stately demeanor, exuding energy and confidence at most times. Bates and many of his colleagues were members of the Royalist Party, a generally conservative party which, for the most part, served the interests and agenda of the Crown. They were more or less moderate traditionalists, with their views ranging from merely preserving the status quo to being even slightly reactionary. They were, however, backed by the populace for the most part.
Bates also held friends in the National Republican Party, a more liberalized version of the royalists, but still having similar opinions on nearly all issues. Their major difference, which was once a point of contention so severe that it formed a schism in the original party, was the cause of a number of duels and bar fights, the former being favored over the latter, until citizens began to grow tired of the increasing number of elections that had to be held to replace the vacant seats of the deceased. This difference, in short, was a belief that a partial republic, under the control of a (usually) benevolent constitutional monarchy, should instead extend itself to grow into a full republic that would institute more democratic ideals in society. In most respects, the two parties had reconciled, however, some of their members still maintained the traditional rivalries to a small degree.
In the Senate, there were 126 seats. Forty were held by the Royalists and thirty-seven were held by the National Republicans. Twenty-three of the seats were held by the People’s Liberal Democratic Party (PLDP), which were mostly center-left; seventeen by the Independent Citizens Party, a union of political interests that was mostly in the center; six seats were held by members of the Capitalist Party2, which advocated the loosening of government control over certain labor groups and trade; and the last three seats were held by the Socialist Union Party, a very small party, given that socialism was highly unpopular due to the general capitalist slant of the populace.
The political layout of the Senate, reflected largely by the Representative Assembly, was enough to disconcert several of the more leftist members of Parliament, who often grew discouraged at their inability to extend their influences nationally through legislation. One of these disgruntled men was Senator Eliot Lewis, a member of the PLDP. He was often dissatisfied with the powerful position of the monarchy and its ability to exert such enormous power in domestic and world affairs. His reelection in 2008 brought his position more power and credibility, but in the process of winning his reelection, he also alienated many elements of the electorate which were not in line with his political leanings. This alienation continued into his term of office, and his second term was unlikely to fare any better in terms of his relations with the public.
As the month of November began, the skies over Chalcedon grew colder and frost began to form on the grass lawns of the Parliament Building at night, though it melted by morning. The mood in the building was less dismal than the weather outside, but the heated tempers within were still as hard and unforgiving. This situation was only made worse by Senator Lewis’ plan for charting the future course of Monavian foreign policy. His ambitions, at least those portions thereof which were known to the public, included the liberalization of the Monavian political system, transforming the Monavian armed forces into humanitarian bodies, and loosening restrictions and laws based upon religious precepts and tradition.
Lewis was angered by the idea that the Monavian Empire should not involve itself in the domestic affairs of other nations. He believed that Monavia should make itself an “arsenal of democracy and virtue”, one that would wipe out famine, poverty, genocide, and civil wars. His interventionist views were espoused throughout the Senate Chamber for much time, and every passing day built up his dissatisfaction with the system's conservatism and restraint. Why should tyranny exist anywhere? Why should Monavia refrain from becoming the world's policeman, whether alone or by entering into the World Assembly?
It was well known that Lewis had made many questionable statements, which in select cases had resulted in his censure. On an unusually chilly November day, when the mood of the Senate became even grimmer from hearing reports of the strife enveloping Nova, this pent up pressure erupted into open fury. Lewis gave a speech on November 9, detailing his plan for a grand interventionist regime which would place Monavia “in the graces of all free and democratic nations.” However, he knew that many of his colleagues disagreed with this view, and expected a fierce rebuttal from Senator Bates, his greatest opponent.
He ended his controversial speech with many admonitions to those who disagreed with him, but his final line, the one which later caused an uproar unseen in nearly a generation, permanently darkened his reputation among his detractors, yet ironically made him a hero to his party. Standing upon the rostrum, with his voice filling the chamber, he delivered a scathing attack upon the Royalists and their conservative allies. “And if this plan to ensure our place among the free nations fails,” he roared, “and we are unable to render aid to our poorer neighbors, then it is because we have become corrupt! We cannot falter. We cannot permit outselves to jealously guard our opulence and good fortune by walling ourselves in and refusing to commit ourselves to the cause of global advancement! If this body does not choose to support entry into a new era of international cooperation exceeding that which exists now, becoming a force to protect freedom and promote negotiation with all of our neighbors, regardless of their previous relations toward us,” his voice crescendoed, “then I shall place blame upon the unholy secret alliance of the Mormons, the Catholics, and the Jews!”
Senator Bates recoiled, nearly losing his footing. “You shall not escape with impunity!” he spat, storming out of the chamber with several of his fellow senators. It was well known that Lewis disliked Monavian Catholicism and Judaism, mostly because they were more conservative than some of their liberalized counterparts in other countries. He hated the Mormon political establishment even more, because of their restrictions on social freedom. That he was so brazen as to comdemn them as being selfish, avaricious guardians of their own wealth was somewhat of a surprise, but his PLDP colleagues expected it. Lewis, after all, was a socialist welfare state supporter, and had no qualms about sending money overseas to develop other countries, regardless of actual progress achieved.
While the Representative Assembly still remained in session until it adjourned at six o’clock, and business proceeded there as usual, the Senate was adjourned immediately. Chancellor Hanover was stunned, and being so appalled at the chaos that ensued, he asked the Sergeant-at-Arms to clear the chamber and called the body into adjournment. The display disturbed him enough that he retired early that night and did not mentally recover for a week. His prediciment would only be exacerbated by the events of the next day.
Bates returned to the Senate floor with a copy of Lewis’ speech when the Senate reconvened the next morning. He took his seat with his Royalist colleagues, and began to agonizingly deliberate in his own mind on what to do. He nervously clutched the silver cap on his ceremonial cane, staring at the rostrum where Lewis had given his speech before. Lewis had committed an atrocity, one which in the mind of Senator Bates, was unpardonable. He rose from his seat and strode over to the section where Lewis was seated.
Upon reaching Lewis, Bates softly spoke to him. “Senator Lewis, I have taken much time to carefully read your speech. I have gone over it three times, taking every moment of my time to understand what you really mean. It was no more than a malicious insult to the Royalist Party and me as well. You have threatened to ruin my reputation, you have sullied the name of my faith, you have spoken out against your own country,” and, he angrily glared, “you have insulted me for the last time.” He stared into the face of Lewis and lifted up his cane, as if to brandish it in the face of the insolent man. Instead he struck him on his head with its silver capped end, beating the man to the ground. After the first few strokes, the cane fractured and Bates threw it aside. Bates did not continue with his attack. He had made his point.
The whole chamber was now in a state of total uproar. Lewis had reeled under the force of the blows and tumbled to the floor, receiving several more blows prior to the breaking of the cane. As he struggled to lift his beaten body from the ground, some members cried “Hit him, hit him!” only to be drowned out by shouts of condemnation, booing, and calls for order. When the body was adjourned following the ten minute process of restoring order, several desks were left overturned, chairs were strewn across the floor, and the remains of Bates' cane lay under a pile of documents.
Chancellor Hanover did not reconvene the Senate until that afternoon.3 Once he did, the Senate voted to leave the police in charge of investigating the matter so that they could proceed with their usual business, absent Lewis and Bates. The former was taken to a hospital, while the latter was escorted away by the Sergeant-at-Arms and asked to leave the premises.
While the news media seized upon the story of a brawl in the Senate chamber, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Frank Carter, was well aware that such a display of internal division could damage the image of Monavian prestige and invulnerability. He quickly drafted a statement to assure the world that Monavia was politically stable.
OPEN ANNOUNCEMENT TO ALL MEMBER STATES OF THE DELIAN LEAGUE AND FEGOSIAN UNION
It has come to the attention of the Monavian government that violence has indeed occurred within the halls of Parliament. An internal investigation is underway, but it is advised that all foreign responses to this incident be forwarded to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to prevent any further conflicts of interest. This unfortunate event has caused some to question the stability and resolve of the Monavian government, and I ask that the international community is not hasty to pass judgment until the investigation is complete.
Sincerely,
The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs
Sincerely,
The Right Honorable Frank Carter, Minister of Foreign Affairs
It was unknown if the world would heed this plea, but it was better than having nothing.
1 Original text reads, "William Hanover," which is incorrect.
2 Original text reads, "Free Capitalist Party."
3 Original text reads, "the next day."
Again, these are retroactive edits.
