beside Foster, stationed himself for the debate, but with no sign of antagonism or of condescension.
Foster waited until the introductions were over and went on.
"Times have changed 'since Clausewitz. True, war was an institution like church or the family or private property. But institutions grow obsolete, exhaust their function," Foster argued. "Real tough-mindedness consists in recognizing that thermonudear war is not the extension of policy by other means, it is the end of everything-people, policy, institutions.
"Groteschele," Foster said in his firm unyielding manner, "is a modern Don Quixote, dashing through the stratosphere on nuclear jaunts, talking of obliterationas if it could be made partial, hypnotized by his own words."
Foster stopped almost politely, and looked at Groteschele. Groteschele rocked on his heels, looked down at his scotch and water. He let the silence draw out. He shook his head once, a slight puzzled motion as if he were considering one argument and had abandoned it
Betty, who seldom drank, took a long scotch from
one of the passing waiters. Black noticed that her hand trembled slightly.
Finally Groteschele spoke. His voice was extremely gentle.
"In a full.scale nuclear war between America and Russia a hundred million people, more or less, will be killed-right?" he asked Foster.
"A hundred million," Foster repeated, "or more."
The circle of people about the speakers moved restlessly. Betty finished her drft*k in a gulp and looked for a waiter. Black moved doser to her.
"Things would be shaken up," Groteschele went on. "Our culture and their culture wOuld not be the same. Granted?"
"Granted," Foster said. He grinned toughly.
"Now this is a tragedy and no one here denies that," Groteschele said and his eyes swept generously over the group, lingered on Senator Hartmann. "But would you not grant that the culture which is the best armed, has the best bomb shelters, the best retaliatory capacity, the strongest defense, would have an ancient and classical advantage?"
"Which is?" Foster asked.
"It would be the victor in that it would be less damaged than its enemy," Groteschele said. "Every war, including thermonuclear war, must have a victor and a vanquished. Are you suggesting, Foster, that we should be the vanquished? Do you value American culture less than the Soviet culture?"
Betty's hand had tightened on Black's arm.
"Marvelous," Foster said and his grin was now so deep it was almost ferocious. "Simply marvelous. So neat, so logical, so well ordered."
He paused and looked at Groteschele. Groteschele did not nod for he knew this was the opening of an attack. He smiled at Foster and for the first time it was
a smile of condescension.
"Groteschele, it should persuade a monkey, a high-school kid, maybe an Air Force general, maybe a Senator, but not many others," Foster said savagely. "It indicates only that you are a prisoner."
"Of what?" Groteschele said.
"Of the past, of stale ideas, of cliches," Foster said. He paused and looked around the group. "What is called for," he said, "is a complete and revolutionary breakthrough in our thinking. We are like men enclosed in a paper sack of old ideas and assumptions. The sack surrounding us appears to be complete and seamless, when in reality all we have to do is to break out of it to stand in the freedom of entirely new thoughts and approaches. What the times call for is a new Karl Marx-"
"A new Marx, Foster," Groteschele broke in, "an arresting thought What would the new manifesto proclaim?"
"It would proclaim peace," Foster said without hesitation. "Not because peace is nice or I like. my fellow humans or it is Christian or Gandhi hated violence or the sick-sick-sick kind of liberal chants it. Peace because it is the only way we can live. Get with it, Grotesehele. Probability and the cobalt bomb made you oldfashiotied ten years ago. Be realistic."
Foster's magazine had a circulation of only thirty thousand. The affluent and
Foster waited until the introductions were over and went on.
"Times have changed 'since Clausewitz. True, war was an institution like church or the family or private property. But institutions grow obsolete, exhaust their function," Foster argued. "Real tough-mindedness consists in recognizing that thermonudear war is not the extension of policy by other means, it is the end of everything-people, policy, institutions.
"Groteschele," Foster said in his firm unyielding manner, "is a modern Don Quixote, dashing through the stratosphere on nuclear jaunts, talking of obliterationas if it could be made partial, hypnotized by his own words."
Foster stopped almost politely, and looked at Groteschele. Groteschele rocked on his heels, looked down at his scotch and water. He let the silence draw out. He shook his head once, a slight puzzled motion as if he were considering one argument and had abandoned it
Betty, who seldom drank, took a long scotch from
one of the passing waiters. Black noticed that her hand trembled slightly.
Finally Groteschele spoke. His voice was extremely gentle.
"In a full.scale nuclear war between America and Russia a hundred million people, more or less, will be killed-right?" he asked Foster.
"A hundred million," Foster repeated, "or more."
The circle of people about the speakers moved restlessly. Betty finished her drft*k in a gulp and looked for a waiter. Black moved doser to her.
"Things would be shaken up," Groteschele went on. "Our culture and their culture wOuld not be the same. Granted?"
"Granted," Foster said. He grinned toughly.
"Now this is a tragedy and no one here denies that," Groteschele said and his eyes swept generously over the group, lingered on Senator Hartmann. "But would you not grant that the culture which is the best armed, has the best bomb shelters, the best retaliatory capacity, the strongest defense, would have an ancient and classical advantage?"
"Which is?" Foster asked.
"It would be the victor in that it would be less damaged than its enemy," Groteschele said. "Every war, including thermonuclear war, must have a victor and a vanquished. Are you suggesting, Foster, that we should be the vanquished? Do you value American culture less than the Soviet culture?"
Betty's hand had tightened on Black's arm.
"Marvelous," Foster said and his grin was now so deep it was almost ferocious. "Simply marvelous. So neat, so logical, so well ordered."
He paused and looked at Groteschele. Groteschele did not nod for he knew this was the opening of an attack. He smiled at Foster and for the first time it was
a smile of condescension.
"Groteschele, it should persuade a monkey, a high-school kid, maybe an Air Force general, maybe a Senator, but not many others," Foster said savagely. "It indicates only that you are a prisoner."
"Of what?" Groteschele said.
"Of the past, of stale ideas, of cliches," Foster said. He paused and looked around the group. "What is called for," he said, "is a complete and revolutionary breakthrough in our thinking. We are like men enclosed in a paper sack of old ideas and assumptions. The sack surrounding us appears to be complete and seamless, when in reality all we have to do is to break out of it to stand in the freedom of entirely new thoughts and approaches. What the times call for is a new Karl Marx-"
"A new Marx, Foster," Groteschele broke in, "an arresting thought What would the new manifesto proclaim?"
"It would proclaim peace," Foster said without hesitation. "Not because peace is nice or I like. my fellow humans or it is Christian or Gandhi hated violence or the sick-sick-sick kind of liberal chants it. Peace because it is the only way we can live. Get with it, Grotesehele. Probability and the cobalt bomb made you oldfashiotied ten years ago. Be realistic."
Foster's magazine had a circulation of only thirty thousand. The affluent and
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