Thing to Love by Geoffrey Household Page A

I, as a traditional Latin American, would find it easier to talk to him than to the average wage-slave of a modern city, and far easier to respect him. For want of a better word, I call his qualities aristocratic.
    â€œSuch qualities have nothing to do with political democracy. They can exist with it or without it. But they have a great deal to do with social equality, and they are part of our Spanish inheritance. Without them, we are doomed to become North Americans, revering status and social conformity rather than character.
    â€œThe people feel that this is happening, whether they like it or not. I try to express what they feel. I shall not get their support by lecturing to them on economics. They know that Vidal is creating an industrial proletariat. Nobody likes that, least of all a people — primitive, if you like — with a natural sense of the dignity of the individual. At the same time Vidal forces on us an elite of great wealth and no morality. That is why I emphasize nobility of character. The peon has it, and Vidal’s managers do not.”
    â€œWealth is justified by taste, Gil, not morality,” Juan protested.
    â€œYour standards are entirely European and smell horribly of the nineteen twenties, Juan. They might be a debating point again in fifty years’ time. For the moment they are irrelevant to the question we have to solve: Is it or is it not my social duty — today— to produce, to consume, to make as much difference as possible between myself and people who have less money? In North America with its infinite gradations of social class that is more a passing phase than a problem. Here it is very much a problem. Vidal has forced us through what economists call the industrial takeoff. He has the Barracas in exchange for it. He has given us a new sort of poverty without pride. His cure is to hope, and to bankrupt Guayanas by accepting international charity.
    â€œNow for our own policy: Halt industrialization! We cannot afford the imports to create Vidal’s state. Guayanas is a small country. It hasn’t the limitless possibilities, the infinite credit of Brazil. We shall slow down the process by high interest rates, heavy profits tax and a generous minimum wage. Putting the engine into reverse will create unemployment, but we shall be ready for it. No chromium-plated desks and Coca-Cola for us! Pumps, tractors and the people back to the land, which at last will be theirs!”
    â€œAnd God help the Ateneo!” Juan added.
    â€œThe Ateneo represents the Latin America that was. You know as well as I do that when the Ateneo has become too incompetent or too tyrannical, we have always taken action — the Fonsagradas, the Avellanas, the Valdéses. We imposed whatever the country needed at the moment: democracy or clericalism or simply financial integrity. Now we are going to impose a very large dose of Socialism — from the top, not from the bottom. The older landowners will be terrified. But we are the traditional leaders, and they would rather follow us than hang on in terror of being expropriated without compensation.”
    â€œHave you got to call it Socialism,” Felicia asked, “when you are trying to make a nation of peasant proprietors?”
    â€œNo, but I won’t hide the truth. I want a Guayanas in which the peon owns or rents the land he works. The State must give it to him. The State must provide the capital for him or his co-operative, and organize the marketing. So for you and your husband I am not afraid to call my revolution Socialist. For others, I stress my objective, not the means of attaining it. That is why I wear national costume. That is the value of my mystique, as you callit, of aristocracy. In his manners and his ideals there is no difference between the peon and myself. Let him be as free to show what he is as I am.”
    â€œThe Marxists would probably call you a Fascist,” said Miro.
    â€œLet them!