"Oh yes—maybe four of his enemies. But he wants to blow the house up without breaking the windows. He thinks he can turn the country upside-down without spilling milk, let alone blood. Now the Reds, let them loose, would make a hole in things. Only they'll never move on their own responsibility. They haven't got the guts, the stomach, the backbone."
"You're so clever, Jaz. I wonder you're not a leader yourself."
"Me?" A slow ironical smile wreathed his face. "You're being sarcastic with me, Mr Somers."
"Not at all. I think you're amazing."
Jaz only smiled sceptically still.
"You take what I mean, though, do you?"
"I do."
"And what do you think of it?"
"Very clever."
"But isn't it feasible? You get Kangaroo, with his Diggers—the cleverest idea in the country, really—to quietly come in with the Reds, and explode a revolution over here. You could soon do it, in the cities: and the country couldn't help itself. You let the Reds appear in the front, and take all the shine. You keep a bit of a brake on them. You let them call a Soviet, or whatever they want, and get into a real mess over it. And then Kangaroo steps in with the balm of Gilead and the New Jerusalem. But let them play Old Tommy Jenkins first with Capital and State Industries and the free press and religious sects. And then Kangaroo steps in like a redeeming angel, and reminds us that it's God's Own Country, so we're God's Own People, and makes us feel good again. Like Solomon, when David has done the dirty work."
"The only point," said Somers smiling, "is that an Australian Lenin and an Australian Trotsky might pop up in the scrimmage, and then Kangaroo could take to the bush again."
Jaz shook his head.
"They wouldn't," he said. "There's nobody with any grip. And you'd see, in this country, people would soon want to be good again, because it costs them least effort."
"Perhaps Kangaroo is right, and they don't want to be anything but good."
