She, the President.: A Presidency as Precedent

By Rey Rodriguez

The American Dream reloaded.

We need an ethical revolution, not a minor movement.

Are women better leaders and statesmen? Why do we export bombs instead of books? Rey Rodriguez has condensed many casual observations into a political plot and scrat

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lakedrive Rec. Int.
• Release date: Mar 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9783952542910

Rey Rodriguez

Architect, musician, born in Bielefeld/Germany in 1978, lives in Zurich/Switzerland, stopovers in Stuttgart/Germany, Las Palmas/Spain, Cologne/Germany and Amsterdam/The Netherlands. Worked in advertisement and film, currently in architecture and urbanism. Always enjoys lecturing, writing, live concerts, writing and recording music with his band. www.reyrodriguez.net www.grannoir.com www.em2n.ch

Book preview

The Old (Dis)order

Business is going great. My father’s family works in the armament industry. With the production of MK-II hand grenades during World War II, our grandfather established a solid financial footing and generated considerable profit afterward. After the war, he invested in the expansion of his company in Boston. Money well spent. To this day, he provides for all his sons and daughters. They were able to study whatever they liked, and they’re still dabbling about in their comfortable lives, trying out ideas in their career fields. Or if not, they’re just playing golf, sipping rosé and maintaining their lawns. Meanwhile, I — Polly, a person of color, my natural hair cropped short — always have to be on the ball, seeing right through everyone I meet. I am the first female President of the United States of America. I welcome every human being with a smile. And, looking back over the 40 stirring years of my life, today I’d like to share a few experiences with you.

My grandfather’s enormous circle of friends and acquaintances includes government officials and captains of industry. On the weekends, they descend upon and then leave our charming family farmstead as though it were Grand Central Station. Since the 1970s, the farm has been no more than a weekend house. Its economic value vanished when the crop fields and pastures were sold to a pioneering industrial feed manufacturer. The company’s researchers manipulated seeds in the lab to such a degree that harvest yields quadrupled. The farmers’ profits from these seeds, however, have not quadrupled. The expensive hybrid seeds only have an annual cycle and the farmers have to purchase them, as well as fertilizer, every year at steadily increasing prices to keep the leached soil fertile. And the selling price for their crops has fallen due to oversupply. Unfortunately, the theory that rising demand due to sinking prices means that prices can then be raised again does not hold in reality.

My old man, however, doesn’t give a damn about any of this. He dedicates himself to business — always and completely. On weekends he relaxes by the fire or on the balcony with its view of a vast, dried-out landscape without even one tree – the more undisturbed, the better.

You make deals with death! I accuse him again and again. The words of a 16-year-old — my words — don’t get through to him. He continues his meticulous work on securing the world order.

At your age, you can’t understand, he tells me. Study math, so you can take over my business one day! And respect what I built up for our family! It’s the only reason we can afford this life of luxury! Why can’t you just enjoy it? This is his usual response. He’s a stubborn old pig head.

On my friend Jessica’s 16th birthday, I invite her to a girls’ weekend on our farm, with a full-blown pampering program. We’ll have the huge house to ourselves and can enjoy the parents’ absence. The springtime sun, low in the sky, blinds us as I turn my compact Japanese car into the driveway, lined with colorful blooms. I stop at the gravel entry way. As always, we instantly climb the beautiful, old cherry tree, enjoying the sea of blossoms. I’ve known Jessica since kindergarten and she’s my best friend. We confide in each other and we've had each other’s backs since we were kids. On this Saturday afternoon, for the first time, we talk openly about my family’s business. I am uncomfortable, ashamed and feel a deep, hollow abdominal pain as I start a long, detailed monologue. I report what I’ve known since my childhood days, about the arms race and my family’s involvement:

The arms race during the Cold War was like a gold rush for the war industry and its shareholders. In the boardrooms of Lockheed, Colt and all the other defense suppliers, bets were placed on the annual balance sheet. Government and military decisionmakers were offered trips to exotic places, and the Cuban cigars these men smoked became fatter and longer every day. And my grandfather and father were in it up to their noses. Jessica remains silent, but her eyes betray a hint of sympathy. In that moment, she simply doesn’t know how to react to my family’s intense history. For a few hours, I ruin the highly anticipated celebration of her birthday for both of us. But I finally had to confess. Sharing problems lessens the pain.

Starting in primary school, I play the role of odd person out. It seems that everyone is constantly observing me. I want to make friends and become part of the group, but my classmates are hostile, rejecting me on a daily basis. In high school, it becomes more palpable and obvious. By participating in class and extracurricular activities, I try to join in and to do good things for others. Knowing my family’s history, I start my own research into the arms industry. Jessica helps me to unveil the inconceivable. Together with my brother we often climb the old gnarled cherry tree in our farm’s enchanted garden. We pick its fruits and savor them in the shade of the midday sun.

"In 1950, defense spending in the USA totaled about 111.1 billion U.S. dollars (adjusted for inflation as of 2003), that of the USSR totaled about 118.4 billion U.S. dollars. During the Cold War, defense expenditures increased immensely: by 1985, American appropriations had risen to 419.1 billion U.S. dollars and Soviet spending had reached 470.1 billion.

The increasing defense expenditures of the two superpowers brought about massive growth in nuclear armaments. In 1950, the U.S. possessed 379 nuclear bombs, whereas the USSR had only five. In 1986, before the INF treaty for nuclear disarmament took effect, American nuclear weapons amounted to more than 23,250, whereas the USSR had increased their arsenal to more than 40,700 weapons."

Bernhard Weidenbach, Comparison of defense expenses, USA and USSR, to 1990, [Verteidigungsausgaben der USA und der UdSSR bis 1990], accessed June 22020, URL: https://de.statista.com/statistik/daten/studie/935886/umfrage/verteidigungsausgaben-der-usa-und-der-udssr/ (as of 15 Oct. 2020)

"Between 1950 and 1990, the gross domestic product (GDP) of the USA rose from 1.45 trillion to 5.8 trillion international dollars. During the same period, the Soviet GDP increased from about 510.25 billion to 1.99 trillion international dollars. Whereas the GDP of both states quadrupled, the economic power of the USA was far superior to that of the USSR at that time.

In both states, the population grew considerably from 1950 to 1990. As a result, the GDP per capita in the USA far exceeded that of the USSR as well: between 1950 and 1990, the GDP per