“Even the others?”
“Even the others.”
“This is democracy!”
“Long live democracy!” yelled the other Assistant immediately.
“And they should all be given my phone number.”
“What?”
“My phone number,” said the Boss. “Each one of the elements of this representative sample, chosen randomly according to scientific criteria, should call me to find out my opinion. Thus we will have a fair opinion poll, with an extended sample, and an objective and pondered opinion.”
“Thus, Boss, you suggest that instead of giving their opinion, the opinion poll sample call you for you to give your opinion to everyone.”
“One at a time.”
“And they won’t be able to accuse us of tampering with the results?”
“Of course not. The question will always be asked by a different person. This is what we have to highlight. Any member of the population can ask my opinion. How can one manipulate the data if the people themselves are the ones asking me questions?”
“You’re right, Boss.”
“And it’s original.”
“What is important in a television debate?”
Mister Kraus responded, “Argumentative profoundness loses (by a K.O.) in the face of the quality of eyebrow movement. How many votes is a certain twitch of the nose at an incisive moment worth?! The answer would shake the foundations of our faith in democracy,” murmured Mister Kraus.
Dialogue (One Day before the Elections)
“This thing about a balanced view, holding ballots at all times and just about everywhere.”
“We are living in a century of democracy: the people should have a say in everything.”
“Even those whose voice …”
“Even those people.”
“Therefore: the people would decide everything.”
“I was talking, for example, about a game of football.”
“A game that is nothing more than a dictatorship by the players.”
“So what you are proposing is …”
“I’ll repeat that: the decision should be left to the spectators of a match and not the players.”
“Very well.”
“Instead of twenty-two players and a referee deciding the outcome of the game, the thirty thousand spectators would do so. By voting. It’s a vast difference. You only need to do the math.”
“Only the spectators present in the stadium would be able to vote?”
“Yes.”
“That’s fair.”
“And an excellent way of inducing people to go and watch the match. They would actually be responsible for deciding the outcome. It would be worth making the trip. I don’t think it’s fair to leave something so important — like the outcome of a match — only in the hands (or feet) of fewer than two dozen citizens.”
“In this case, called: football players.”
“Exactly.”
“The outcome of the matches would then be decided not by momentary skills but by pondered decisions by the population.”
“It seems fair to me. We are living in a century of intelligence and votes.”
“A football match decided by a popular vote (especially by the spectators) and not on account of goals by players! It’s changes like this that transform a backward country into a developed nation.”
“Yes.”
“Instead of decisions wrought by a knee, instead of decisions like that, muscular, physical, noncerebral, and undemocratic decisions, they would now be broad-based decisions.”
“Each football match would thus be a kind of referendum.”
“Yes, but please do note that first the game would have to be played.”
“The matches would be missed.”
“The decisions would be made after the match — and serious individuals would determine which team emerged victorious, irrespective of the goals that were scored, without being influenced by the emotions that could have existed before, after reflecting logically about what really happened.”
“Having passionate matches is not worthy of a century where rationality requires that events be handled differently.”
“Exactly.”
“Rationality and democracy, the importance of each citizen’s opinion and vote: that’s where the future of football lies.”
“It’s only fair.”
“What about the elections to determine who governs the nation?”
“Ah, in this regard, I think we should hold an old-fashioned football match: each Party would choose eleven players and the team that scored the most goals would govern.”
“That seems sensible and rational.”
“Worthy of this century.”
“Yes. Worthy of this century.”
The elections were over and the sweeper had been pushing the ballot slips toward the corner of the hall with his broom for over two hours.
The now useless ballot slips advanced against their will toward the corner as though they were dirty napkins and not papers that had been decisive for a certain nation at a certain time. They were pushed about like trash. Mister Kraus observed the entire spectacle melancholically.
The day after the elections, in the café, at his habitual table, Mister Kraus noted in his notebook:
A posteriori observation 1
In their contacts with the simpler elements of the population, some politicians kiss people on the cheek almost like someone on a wharf bidding farewell to a boat setting sail never to return.
The relationship between politicians and the people
After an animated electoral campaign, the great advantage of any democratic election is that the people finally leave the politicians’ drawing rooms.
It’s a feeling of relief that some elected representatives describe as being similar to the moment in which an intense pain, for some obscure reason, comes to an end.
A posteriori observation 2
When politicians kiss senior citizens, they remind one of the first timid bite of a worm on a body that no longer has the means to flee nor a door from which to exit.
After the Elections
After any election, politicians — irrespective of whether they have won or lost — always have the feeling that the more profound people have all just boarded a train, heading, compactly, for a distant land. This population will come back, on the same train, only in the weeks preceding the next election.
This interval is essential so that the politicians have time to delicately transform hate or indifference into a new genuine passion.
“The words of the winner always seem to be more intelligent,” murmured someone.