Inside Outt

Look at me. Descended from slaves, and here I am, a member in good standing. Anyone can join. You just have to believe in it. You just have to pay your dues and follow the rules. That’s what we mean these days by ‘equality of opportunity’ and a ‘meritocratic society.’”
    “You’re part of it?”
    “Of course I am. I’m not fighting it, am I? I’ve accepted its inevitability. Now I’m just trying to make it run properly.”
    “Then… you’re one of the good complicit people, is that what you’re saying?”
    Hort took another mouthful of steak. Chewed. Swallowed.
    “There’s always been an establishment, son. In every culture, every country. There’s always going to be someone on the inside, pulling the real levers of power and influence and profit. You want it to be moral men, like you and me? Or do you want it to be the Ulrichs of the world? Because it’s going to be someone. That’s the only choice.”
    Ben thought of Larison again, what he’d said about how you have to suborn yourself. He wondered if there was ever a person who’d compromised himself without at some point offering up Hort’s own words to the appalled reflection in the mirror.
    “Hort… I don’t know. You’re telling me the Constitution doesn’t matter? That seems… that’s a lot.”
    “It’s not that it doesn’t matter. It’s fiction, but necessary fiction. Part of what keeps America strong is the society’s belief that we’re a constitutional republic. That no one is above the law.”
    “That we don’t torture.”
    Hort nodded. “Now you’re getting it.”
    “You’re saying people can’t know the truth.”
    “And don’t want to know it. Do you know anything about
honne
and
tatemae?”
    “No.”
    “Couple of Japanese concepts an exceptional man taught me a long time ago.
Honne
is the real truth.
Tatemae
is the façade of truth.”
    “You think our job is to maintain the façade of truth?”
    “I do. And that’s not a bad thing. Just like every society has an establishment, every society also needs
tatemae
. Think about Gitmo. What was that all about?”
    Ben shrugged. “We needed a place to put the bad guys.”
    Hort shook his head. “No, that’s a
honne
answer. The real purpose of Gitmo was to make the public feel safe. Whether it was actually making anyone safe was a secondary consideration at best. Hell, the truth is, we didn’t even know who we were putting in there, we just wanted a big number so we could announce to the public that we’d captured eight hundred of the ‘worst of the worst’. Who wouldn’t sleep better at night knowing so many of our enemies had been taken out of the game? We knew most of them were innocent. But it didn’t matter. We needed the number.”
    “But the Caspers weren’t innocent. You said so.”
    “That’s right, and if the public ever gets wind of what happened to the Caspers, the whole sorry story will come out, including the part about how most of the detainees were innocent. The public needs talismans, son, things like airport security, silly things like taking your shoes and belt off and leaving your six-ounce tube of toothpaste at home. On a
honne
level, those kind of ‘security’ measures are laughable. On a
tatemae
level, they convince people it’s safe to fly, and the economy keeps humming along, safe and profitable for the politicians and the corporations they work for.”
    “I just… Hort, I can’t believe what you’re saying.”
    “Ask yourself this. If you’re part of the oligarchy, what’s more important: that Americans be safe, or that they feel safe?”
    Ben didn’t answer.
    “Or what matters more: convicting a guilty man, or having society believe the guilty has been convicted? One guilty man going free is irrelevant, as long as society believes the guilty has been punished. But if society loses that confidence, you get anarchy. And the oligarchy doesn’t like anarchy.”
    They were quiet for a few minutes. Hort ate. Ben didn’t.
    Hort gestured to Ben’s steak and swallowed some of his own. “Try it, it’s good.”
    Ben shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”
    Hort watched him. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, when you feel up to it, there’s something I want you to do.”
    “What?”
    “I told you, we’re rebuilding. There’s you, there’s Larison, I hope, and there are a few others. And there are two in particular I want you to track down.”
    “Who?”
    “A former marine sniper, goes by the name Dox,