Government
of Laura
Government in Laura is
modelled after the city-state government, though for purposes of VT,
the council will only be made up of an administrator and two council
members. The best summary of government in a city-state that I
could find was taken from this passage from chapter 3 of the book, Tarnsman of Gor.
'The city-state,' said my father, speaking to
me late one afternoon, 'is the basic political division on Gor -
hostile
cities controlling what territory they can in their environs,
surrounded
by a no-man's land of open ground on every side.'
'How is leadership decided in these cities?' I asked.
'Rulers,' he said, 'are chosen from any High Caste.'
'High Caste?' I asked.
'Yes, of course,' was the answer. 'In fact, in the
First Knowledge, there is a story told to the young in their public
nurseries, that if a man from Lower Caste should come to rule in a
city, the city would come to ruin.'
I must have apeared annoyed.
'The caste structure,' said my father patiently,
with perhaps the trace of a smile on his face, 'is relatively immobile,
but not frozen, and depends on more than birth. For example, if a child
in his schooling shows that he can raise caste, as the expression is,
he
is permitted to do so. But similarly, if a child does not show the
aptitude expected of his caste, whether it be, say, that of a physician
or warrior, he is lowered in caste.'
'I see,' I said, not much reassured.
'The High Castes in a given city,' said my father,
'elect an administrator and council for stated terms. In times of
crisis, a war chief, or Ubar, is named, who rules without check and by
decree until, in his judgement, the crisis is passed.'
'In his judgement?' I asked sceptically.
'Normally the office is surrendered after the
passing of the crisis,' said my father. 'It is part of the Warrior's
Code.'
'But what if he does not give up the office?' I
asked. I had learned enough of Gor by now to know that one could not
always count on the Caste Codes being observed.
'Those who do not desire to surrender their power,'
said my father, 'are usually deserted by their men. The offending war
chief is simply abandoned, left alone in his palace to be impaled by
the citizens of the city he has tried to usurp.'
I nodded, imagining a palace, empty save for one
man sitting alone on his throne, clad in his robes of state, waiting
for
the angry people outside the gates to break through and work their
wrath.
'But,' said my father, 'sometimes such a war chief,
or Ubar, wins the hearts of his men, and they refuse to withdraw their
allegiance.'
'What happens then?' I asked.
'He becomes a tyrant,' said my father, 'and rules
until eventually, in one way or another, he is ruthlessly deposed.' My
father's eyes were hard and seemed fixed in thought. It was not mere
political theory he spoke to me. I gathered that he knew of such a man.
'Until,' he repeated slowly, 'he is ruthlessly deposed.'