“Like this. Americans know darned well they’ve got to elect better people to the big jobs. Better senators and congressmen and governors and so on. They’re sure—positive, already, they’re doing wrong to put in a lot of nitwits, banjo players, grafters, good-humored poops, and so on. Americans understand that the problems of their government are too darned complicated, too scientific, too obscure, too numerous, for every darned citizen to comprehend. In the days of George Washington civilization was something pretty much every man knew pretty much all about. The fellow that made cart wheels understood the fellow that built schooners. And so on. But today, Americans realize, even a smart guy in Connecticut can’t say, offhand, what ought to be done about irrigation, soil erosion, and hydroelectric installations in New Mexico. Right?”
“Plenty right.”
“So—we know we gotta elect better people. Not just a pleasant guy with a loud mouth from the next county! So what? We’re sending more college men into politics.
That’s good. And more professional men. That’s good too. We’re electing more chaps like that. Someday the American people will get together and change the constitutional rules about the qualifications of public servants. Yes, sir, Jimmie. Someday you won’t even be allowed to run for the Senate, if you think New Guinea is in South America, or if you think a billion dollars is so much money nobody can imagine it, or if you believe that carrying a potato in your pocket cures rheumatism. Of course, a lot of college graduates regress fast, and a lot of ’em are saps, but passing a political-suitability examination will cut down the ratio of saps. The American people are going to demand basic information and sanity in their representatives, someday, just as they make people take exams for civil service or a medical license.”
Jimmie grinned. “I hope so. It would sure cut a swath in the politicians at work now!”
“Wouldn’t it just!” Mr. Corinth chuckled. “Then, another thing. You know why capitalists get so darned hot about Communism?”
Jimmie just laughed.
The older man shook his head. “That’s not why—not wholly. Not just because they’re afraid they’ll be ruined by it. They get frightened because, Jimmie, there’s something in it. Something to it.”
Jimmie nodded. “Everybody realizes that. People shouldn’t be jobless in a rich country like this, if they want jobs. People shouldn’t be undernourished at times when we have food surpluses. People shouldn’t have to work for marbles, long hours—”
“I don’t mean that. I mean, there’re two kinds of capital in this world. There’s the kind that comes from work. From labor. From manufacturing, and from invention, and from management, and from services, and from salesmanship. That kind. It’s earned. Competition is the driving force behind it; without competition, in my opinion, a man isn’t living. He’s a dead soul in a zombie body. Competition isn’t sociological or economic, Jimmie. It’s biological. It runs right straight through the whole history of evolution—and it’s the thing that made evolution. Not you, nor the Fascists, nor the Commies can outlaw it. If they try they get a zombie population. If the Germans aren’t zombies—and the Russkies—I’d like to know! Nope. Competition—fair and square, open and hard—is the heart of progress. And the money earned under it—is real money!