Kalistani Major History

[Doc]

The opposition compares watches after a landslide IPoK victory
Discussion on the verge of a foul

From left to right: Trevor Parkinson, Anna Hope, Theresa Armstrong, Bob Anderson, Juan Murphy.
At some point I felt like I was in the epicenter of a political caricature. It all started when I got to the venue of the event with the pompous name "Coordinating Council of the Opposition" in a cramped trolleybus. A caring editor of the newspaper I work for advised me to take an umbrella to avoid getting wet in the chilly rain of Vraska. I obeyed without doubt. There was no free seat, so I stood with my cheek against the handrail, looking out the window for any sights of political ads or a slightest hint of the election that happened a couple weeks ago. Nothing.

The sense of surrealism was heightened when the people who got off with me at the bus stop walked in the opposite direction. I glanced at my watch to see if I was late, but the event was still 15 minutes away. With a quick step I reached a shabby office building, the only sign on which was a photo studio and a hostel. The smell of dampness and mold hit my nose as I ran up the stairs and opened the door. There was almost no one in the spacious white-walled room, aside from the bored interns and a couple of journalists.
That's when I got really scared. Has the opposition lured me into a trap? Were they bloodthirsty maniacs hiding behind the talks about journalistic freedom? I gripped the handle of my umbrella tighter, ready to defend myself at any opportunity. I huddled on a creaky plastic chair, holding my wait-and-see attitude.

It was only when people began to sit down one by one at a table as white as the walls that I finally relaxed. They were the self-proclaimed mastodons of the Kalistanian opposition, each and every as out of a 4990's sitcom: a technocrat financier with round glasses, a short-cropped nationalist, a red-faced farmer with vague political views. The de-facto leader of the group, famous republican politician Trevor Parkinson, was leaning away from his colleagues, sitting somehow on ths side. All these people had one thing in common: during the last election cycle, they were knocking on doors and handing out leaflets from hand to hand due to the lack of legal political advertisement opportunities. They represented rather narrow political groups from all across Kalistan.
"The election, which took place with a record low turnout of 15.72% shows that there is a public demand for an alternative political force" – explains Trevor Parkinson –, "people, essentially, have no voice. There is no opportunity to influence governmental policy which is entirely determined by the balance of power between liberal and conservative wings in the ruling party. We, the leaders of the opposition, are ready to give our fellow countrymen a voice."
His speech was continued by Anna Hope, a popular online anti-establishment blogger who ran for local office for the first time in Odufaray:
"Yes, that's right. The lack of any opportunity for political advertising has essentially killed pluralism in our country. The government is lying when it says that our current system is a vaccine from the radical left or radical right. This is not true. If more than 80% of residents don't vote, there is bound to be discontent. This is no longer a republic when even Brethrenist pastors can't talk about pacifism. Secularism isn't about shutting churches up, is it? It's about letting them speak freely and not being dependent on the state." After some more ranting on the subject of civil liberties, she turned the floor over to Theresa Armstrong, an economist with rumored left-wing sympathies.
"Our country ... Can't stay afloat that long if-- I mean, I wanted to say that the music industry, which is an important sector of our economy, is pretty unsustainable. Bringing investment and foreign capital into our critically important sectors, coupled with higher taxes on corporations, leads to a monopoly of foreign companies in the long run - at worst, and economic stagnation at best. Also, gross domestic pro-" She didn't have time to finish before her neighbor, Nationalist Bob Anderson, interrupted her:
"Excuse me, but there is a natural policy of economic substitution, and I'd rather say, replacement of our domestic producers for foreign ones. Opening up the flow of finance and strangling corporations, the backbone of our economy, is sheer malice. And immigrants? And don't tell me that we are a country of immigrants. Look at our young people! In a couple of years if we continue our open borders policy, our country will be full of fanatics and criminals. What about this concert that even the royal couple attended? Debauchery, drugs, and, to be honest with you, terrible foreign music."
The journalists who had already started to fall asleep, became active, but soon started to snooze again. At some point, the conversation on political topics turned into ranting, reminiscing about the life of each of the participants, and savoring historical details, during which the oppositioners tried to avoid sensitive topics. Finally, the meeting reached its climax.
"Today we, a broad coalition of republican forces, announce the formation of the political party Renew Kalistan." – Trevor Parkinson glowed with pride. – "Please note that we are not liberals," – he hastened to correct as he spoke the last word in rapid succession – "As you can see, our coalition is made up of forces from across the political spectrum. Do you think we could sit at the same table if we lived in Baltusia? Definitely not. Our main objectives at the moment are to soften certain aspects of our policies. More political freedom wouldn't hurt anyone, right? I'm asking anyone interested to sign a petition to help get our Let People Speak Act to the Parliament." Mr. Parkinson was obviously addressing an online audience watching at home, as there were more journalists in the audience than the usual gawkers. "Election campaigns are a gimmick in our nation after all!" – I think, heading for the box in the corner of the room, where a dark-skinned volunteer greets me. She points to a box above which hangs a paper, summarizing the Act the newly minted party wants to introduce into Parliament. I pick up a pen and freeze for a second: should I sign or not? Crossing my fingers behind my back, I leave my signature. Why not? Maybe in a few years the gray buildings of Vrassa will be covered with yellow banners of the opposition.
The author's opinion may not coincide with the opinion of the editors.