Devolution (5 page)

However, it stretched itself too far. The strain of consistent conflicts, up to and including the 16th century, stripped the empire of its resources. Supply lines crumbled when they could no longer communicate across long distances. The military need for defense eventually made greater expansion impossible. Its enemies formed alliances in the Mediterranean. Although the Turks weren’t hated in the region, they were the most powerful nation, and therefore targeted.

The colonization of the new world corresponded with the height of Ottoman power, and also provided the catalyst for its collapse. New trade routes limited its power as a trade center in the Mediterranean, which was no longer the center of trade in the world. The giant influx of Spanish silver from the new world weakened its currency.

While the Industrial Revolution had swept through Western Europe, the Ottoman Empire was still relying mainly on medieval technologies. It had no railroads or telegraphs. Poor communications made it difficult for Constantinople to control its provinces and facilitate advancements. Thus, many provinces became autonomous. A corrupt tax system depleted revenues. Lack of industry meant their raw materials were not being harvested. Chaos sparked revolution. It lost large portions of its Jewish population (the Hebrews originally immigrated there to flee religious persecution), further crippling the economy.

On Friday, May 9, 1873, the Vienna Stock Market crashed and took with it the entire economy of Europe. The Ottoman Empire was unable to deal with the situation. Regional wars led to WWI and soon after, the Empire was dissolved.

In many ways, the circumstances surrounding the fall of the Ottoman Empire paralleled those of the Roman Empire, particularly in terms of the government’s inability to deal with tensions between ethnic groups in tough economic times which were mainly caused by inflation.

Its trading philosophy depended too much on the Greeks and not enough on themselves. When the Greeks demanded independence in the early 19th century, the Turks were unprepared to trade on their own. This made the Empire more of a producer rather than a manufacturer of raw materials.

Unstable leadership was a problem. The second most powerful man in the Empire was the Grand Vizier, the adviser-in-chief to the Sultan. To prevent a coup, the Sultan would often replace him. This prevented a stable government, the thing most required in turbulent times. Also, to preserve their rule, Sultans would take male relatives and sequester them. If the Sultan died, the heir would not be prepared to lead. Any efforts to modernize or reform the empire—especially when it came to technology—were always opposed by the powerful (the Akhis). The introduction of such advances would have limited their power as others gained it. As the world became more democratic, the empire remained autocratic. Revolts broke out. Unlike other nations in Europe where a weak leader could be balanced by another governmental body, the Turks could not atone for a weak Sultan.

The empire’s problems were, in fact, the result of an inability to deal with weak leaders, rising nationalism between ethnic groups, powerful internal factions unwilling to reform and the inability to change with the global economy.

It is a common theme throughout human history that once power is obtained, those who obtain it will do what is necessary to preserve it. In the case of the Ottomans, the ruling party resisted technology and scientific advancement, leaving the Ottomans at a great global disadvantage. But the strategy worked brilliantly; up until the empire’s demise, as power was never lost upon the ruling class.

A system must be put in place where the people determine their ultimate destiny, and are free to evolve, and not devolve. A nation mustn’t march into the future under the pompous command of a few, but rather the acute vision of the many.

Pleased with his research, John powered down his computer and stumbled to bed. A few hours later he would wake and continue.

*

As John was laying down to sleep, his uncle quietly arose to peruse his own ambitions. With his wife and child asleep, Tony Manning embarked on what would be hours of planning. His office was similar to John’s in that, despite his frantic determination, it remained tidy. Illuminated by only the light of the monitor, and entertained solely by the dull drone of the cooling fan, he worked tirelessly throughout the morning hours.

Tony had returned home from his disheartening lunch meeting that afternoon. Despite the snowfall, Emma was out on her daily run, and his son was sleeping in the back room. With a heavy mind, he sat on the couch to gather his thoughts. He learned not long ago that major mistakes are made when one lets their emotions control their actions.

Like most freshmen MPs, Manning felt invincible when he first entered the House of Commons. And after garnering 61 percent of the vote, the most of any member of the incoming class, why shouldn’t he? He was 32, newly married, and full of ambition. It fostered a mindset that was asking to be challenged.

Days after his arrival, he took to the House for his first session.

“This guy will go on forever,” MP Henry Bodwell whispered, leaning towards Tony. The red haired Irishman motioned to the MP who had the floor.

“Yeah?” Tony kept his gaze forward. He had no desire to converse. The novelty of his surroundings had far from faded.

“You know, I don’t understand this initiative,” Bodwell went on, ignoring Tony’s disinterest. He leaned in closer. “I mean, who cares about Congo Free Trade, anyway? This is a waste of time.”

“Give it a chance.” Tony flashed a courteous smile.

Tony’s naiveté served as fuel. “Henry Bodwell.” The husky man extended a hand in faux friendship.

Tony responded in kind. “Tony Manning, Kensington and Chelsea district,” he said with enormous pride.

“Yeah, I saw your victory,” Bodwell recalled. “This must be exciting for you. I remember my first week in the Commons.”

Tony nodded halfheartedly, then turned back to the proceedings.

Bodwell didn’t get the hint. “You had an impressive election,” he continued. “Congratulations. Don’t let it go to your head. People are fickle.”

Tony kept his focus on the floor. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

Later that day, the Congo Free Trade bill came up for debate on the House floor. Unlike the House of Lords, which was more ornate in its styling, the Commons’ chamber was small and modestly decorated in a green art deco amongst Gothic-related architecture. Located in the Palace of Westminster, it featured rows of benches on opposite sides of the floor. On the far end of the aisle, in towering wooden booths, sat the speaker and high ranking officials. Despite the relative simplicity of the all-wooden structure, its rich history and storied past created an inspiring aura that transcended its appearance.

Members of the Speaker’s majority party sat to his right side, while opposition party members presided to his left. Tony constituted the latter. In front of each bench was drawn a red line, which members were forbidden to cross during debates. The space between equaled two sword lengths. The more powerful and tenured members sat in the front with the lesser in the back. Again, Tony was the latter. The members outnumbered the available seating, forcing late arrivals to stand near. Tony arrived early to ensure his seat.

“We are here today to discuss the Congo Free Trade agreement,” announced the Speaker of the Commons, Dan Chin, bringing the House to session. The room echoed with the sounds of shuffling feet and adjusting bodies, which quickly dissipated.

“This bill, which will necessitate a vote upon conclusion of debate, will decide whether the United Kingdom will engage in tariff and tax-free trade with the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a nation endowed with ample resources and vast potential for wealth. However, it has the potential for instability.”

The Speaker removed his glasses. His chiseled chin and beady eyes scanned the assemblage. “We shall begin the debate with the bill’s sponsor, the Honorable Member for Hackney.”

“Thank you, Mr. Speaker.” Rick Bryne took the floor. “In this time of economic hardship, we must secure the value of goods and services from overseas.” His thunderous voice reverberated throughout the wooden chamber. “Unemployment, inflation and interest rates are rising to levels we haven’t seen in quite some time. This agreement would help calm the markets. The Democratic Republic of the Congo has a tenuous past. But if we are to expand our global influence, we must feed our markets with fresh resources. The region has stabilized. The government has control.”

The impassioned MP paused for a moment to sift through his notes before continuing.

“This is a market the industrialized world has yet to corner. By eliminating the tariff and opening up free markets, we can work with them to not only grow our economy, but grow our relationship with an African nation whose neighbors are also rich in resources.

“This free trade would spur competition in the raw materials marketplace, prices will drop, and quality of life will increase. For our future, we need free trade. Mr. Speaker,” Bryne turned to the bench, “you have the floor, sir.”

“Thank you, Honorable Member for Hackney. Rebukes?” He surveyed the hall. “Yes, the Honorable Member for Hammarsmith and Fulham.”

Bodwell rose. “Mr. Speaker,” he nodded in much the same fashion as Bryne. “This free trade agreement is too risky. Yes, our economy is stagnating, but we cannot allow our companies to invest in such an unsteady nation. The Congo has been a battlefield for decades. I ask you, where is our common sense? If we allow free trade, existing British companies will suffer. Wages in that nation are low. They can undercut our workers and our companies will suffer. We must protect ourselves. Mr. Speaker, I now turn the floor over to you.”

The Speaker eyed the MP from Hackney.

“Mr. Speaker, history has shown,” refuted Bryne, “that isolationism helps no one. In the 1930s, America was in the Great Depression longer than any other country in the world. And it was their isolationism that prolonged their own misery. The Smoot-Hawley Tariff was the driving force for the reduction in U.S./European trade. The lack of competition and the artificially high prices it created suffocated the nation. Trade is wealth! And competition fuels innovation and lower prices. Mr. Speaker, free markets are the path to a recession-proof Great Britain. We
must lift the tariff
.”

After ninety minutes of the debate, Tony, the ambitious young representative, decided to make an impression. He motioned towards the Speaker.

“The Honorable Member from Kensington and Chelsea has the floor.”

Manning began with a gracious nod. “Mr. Speaker. While we each have our own constituencies, we ultimately serve the United Kingdom. We have a responsibility to look out for the entire nation, not a select few. Our country, as a whole, will benefit from this free trade bill. And that, as Members of Parliament, must constitute our grandest of intentions. Thank you, Mr. Speaker.” A sense of accomplishment rushed through his being.

The Speaker panned to his right. “If there are no more comments then, we can move to a vote.”

The hall was still. Then, Bodwell arose from his chair. “Mr. Speaker. The Honorable Member from Kensington and Chelsea fails to understand reality.”

Manning immediately perked up. “We
are
looking out for the nation. To assume otherwise is reckless. Looking out for jobs
is
looking out for the country.”

Bodwell was right. Tony’s choice of words was poor. Embarrassment set in and heads turned in his direction.

“Just because we believe prosperity can be achieved through a different channel does not mean we wish to cause suffering to the nation. Mr. Speaker, I would like the previous testimony stricken from the record.”

Tony’s grave embarrassment morphed into anger and his pride took over. “That is absurd.”

“Sir, you will not speak in this chamber unless called upon!” the Speaker snapped at the MP.

“Mr. Speaker, that was completely—”

“MP Manning!” the Speaker said indignantly. His commanding voice consumed the room. “Your actions are unacceptable. I order you suspended, effective immediately, from this House of Commons!” The Speaker pointed towards the door. “You may leave.”

Manning stood up and shuffled his way through the row. Despite the humiliation, he marched with confidence. The freshman MP refused to play the victim.

Bodwell brandished a condescending smirk. The click of the door signaled Manning’s departure.

“We will now vote on the Congo Free Trade Bill. All those in favor?”

“Aye.”

“Those opposed?”

“Nay.”

The bill was defeated.

Weeks would go by, and numerous letters of apology written, before the Speaker would lift the suspension.

Manning had learned his lesson well. He learned to control his emotions and use them to his advantage.

*

Despite his uncertain course of action, Manning was sure of his ultimate goal, and knew where to start. He marched across the house to his office, powered on the computer, and disconnected the Internet. He realized this particular computer could never be connected again. From the bottom desk drawer he removed a connecting cord; a wireless transfer would be too risky. By the time everything was connected, the computer had booted.

With mouse in hand, he guided the cursor. A program opened and began downloading the pictures from his phone. He worked to finish before his wife returned from her run or the baby awoke.

As the download neared completion, he took the available images and arranged them onto a horizontal page, careful to ensure the pictures and text lined up. He leaned forward, his nose inches from the radiant glow of the monitor. His rapidly adjusting eyes reflected the intensity of his work.