ASHER. Dynamite?
GEORGE. Human dynamite. They're full of it,--we're full of it, too,
I guess. They're not so different from you and me, though I'll admit
that many of them are ignorant, prejudiced and bitter. But this row
isn't just the result of restlessness and discontent,--that's the smoke,
but the fire's there, too. I've heard enough this morning to be
convinced that they're struggling for something fundamental, that has to
do with human progress,--the issue behind the war. It's obscured now, in
the smoke. Now if that's so you can't ignore it, dad, you can't suppress
it, the only thing to do is to sit down with them and try to understand
it. If they've got a case, if the union has come to stay, recognize it
and deal with it.
ASHER. You--you, my son, are not advising me to recognize the union!
To give our employees a voice in our private affairs!
GEORGE (courageously). But is the war our private affair, dad? Hasn't
it changed things already?
(ASHER makes a gesture of pain, of repudiation. GEORGE approaches
him appealingly.)
Dad, you know how much we've always been to each other, I'd hate to have
any misunderstanding between us,--especially today. I've always accepted
your judgment.
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