"Go on," said Kinsman.
"Our world—this Earth—is faced with a myriad of staggering problems. War is only one of them. There is vast hunger, in my native land, in most of the Southern Hemi- sphere, even in parts of the wealthier nations. There is a struggle for natural resources. There is overpopulation and energy shortages, and pollution on a global scale. These are worldwide problems."
Harriman's face lit up. "Ahhh . . ."
"You begin to understand." De Paolo smiled at him. "The nations of the world cannot—or will not—solve these global problems. This is because the most fundamental prob- lem of all is the problem of nationalism."
His voice was suddenly iron-hard. "Each nations consid- ers itself sovereign, a law unto itself, with no higher authority to hinder its actions. All nations, even the youngest of Africa and Asia, demand complete authority to do as they wish within their own borders. What they accomplish is stupidity! Population crises, famines, racial massacres. And eventually, inevitably—there is war."
"We're a new nation, too," Kinsman said. "And we want our sovereignty, too."
"Yes, of course. But why have you come here? It is, I think, because you realize that no nation is completely sovereign, de facto. There are always restraints on action, political realities that cannot be ignored, the need to cooper- ate when you cannot coerce. The irony of it all is that 535 you—living on the Moon!—you realize that you must cooper- ate with the other nations of Earth if you wish to survive. Would that the nations of Earth were that clear-sighted!"
Kinsman nodded, and the servomotors' buzz made his forehead twinge with the beginnings of a headache.
"Your own Alexander Hamilton knew the problem. He wrote, 'Do not expect nations to take the initiative in develop- ing restraints upon themselves.' No. The nations of the world will not solve the problem of nationalism. They cannot," De Paolo said, very firmly. "For more than two centuries they have been trying to cure the sickness of nationalism, and every year it gets worse, more virulent, closer to the point of lethality."
The old man rose to his feet. "Every year . . ." he muttered, walking toward the windows. Kinsman felt confu- sion in his mind. De Paolo looked frail and yet strong; old and yet vital.
De Paolo turned and faced Kinsman, framed by the windows. "For twenty-two years I have watched them play their stupid games. The proud nations! Each so utterly convinced of its divine right to be as smug and stupid and brutal as it chooses. For twenty-two years I have watched people starve, villages bombed, whole nations looted, while diplomats politely stood here in this very building and made a mockery of ideas such as law and justice and peace. They are no better than the barbarian warlords they replaced centuries ago!"
He was staring beyond Kinsman and the others in the room, plainly disgusted by what his mind could see. "I know the games they play. I have given the best years of my manhood to make the United Nations a force for order and sanity in a world of madmen. But they refuse order and sanity. They have turned our political efforts into travesties. They loudly proclaim the need for international law, but then they use the power of money and weapons to take what they want, like the bandits and cowards that they are."
He gazed straight into Kinsman's eyes. "For more than two decades I have tried to use the UN's nonpolitical arms —UNESCO, the World Health Organization, the Interna- tional Food Distribution Committee, yes, and even the Com- mittee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space—but even there 536 the proud nations have thwarted us. Their refusal to allow weather modification work is merely the most recent example of their nonsense."
"So you're proposing ..."
The slim oid man paced stiffly back to his chair. "I am proposing that we take the skill and courage that we possess and work toward an effective world government. With the antimissile satellites that you control we can offer the smaller nations of the world safety from nuclear holocaust."
"And threaten the larger nations' communications satel- lites," Harriman blurted. "If they don't play ball with us we can close down their damned telephone systems! That'll cripple their economies overnight. To say nothing of shutting off their television!"
"We're not here to make threats," Kinsman said.
Harriman beetled his brows. "Okay, mon capitaine, speak softly if you want to. But it won't hurt to let them know you carry a sizable stick."
"We have a much larger stick," De Paolo said. "Dr. Marrett's ability to manipulate the weather. With that, we can maximize food production and avert disastrous storms—and at the same time threaten any nation on Earth with unaccept- able calamity if it refuses to cooperate with us."
Marrett nodded grimly.
For a long moment Kinsman did not know what to say. "That . . . that's quite an undertaking."
"Of course," said De Paolo. "And we cannot hope even to begin working toward this goal unless you join us. Your satellites are the key to everything."
"But.. ."
'T know," the old man said. "You fear that I am a megalomaniac, intent on world domination."
"Well . . ."
