President Peter Broadhurst (2210-2306)
Peter Benjamin Franklin Broadhurst - diplomat, politician, statesman and author - would almost certainly had a stronger reputation if he had never become president. He was an infamous character, notorious for his idiosyncracities, his strange habits and his blinkered arrogance; but also for his shrewd, incisive and intelligent understanding of astropolitics in a changing galaxy.
While he is most remembered for his mishandling of the Acamar crisis, and an assertive foreign policy stance that veered close to Jingoism, Broadhurst was the first High Commissioner to full understand that the foreign policy aims of the Klingon Empire were completely incompabitle with that of the Federation. Even if his conclusions on a proportional response over Acamar were incorrect, "the Broadhurst Doctrine" - as it was nicknamed at the time - would end up at the core of Wescott's own interstellar policy. Peter Broadhurst was born on Anchorpoint in 2210, at the height of the colony's population boom. His parents were ex-boomers who had settled on the far side colony, living far away from many of the post-scarcity luxuries that defined life on earth. Anchorpoint, while established, eschewed the most significant technology like transporters and industrial synthesizors. Broadhurst grew up amongst farm animals, hybrid-electric vehicles and woven clothes; notoriously, he would regularly cycle ten miles to school every day between 11 and 18. This "frontier lifestyle" - while idealised in the minds of the Colonial Settler's Organisation and the OSF-P - was not remembered fondly by Broadhurst, even if it shaped his bullish sense of superiority. "I didn't live as a frontier traditionalist. I survived frontier traditionalism, which is damn sight more miserable than forty acres and a replicator for every sentient." Broadhurst would study Law at Paris-Vanderbilt University. He would work as a legal advisor to the PM of Earth's office for two years, before standing for and becoming a UEMP for the Northeastern United States. At the young age of 24, Broadhurst made a powerful name for himself as a dogmatic opponent of the incumbent government. His outspokenness would lose him re-election, but he would return in 2244 as the colonial crisies flared into life. His own experience on the frontier had shaped everything from his politics to his medical transition process, and as such he was well placed to lead the charge against Earth and Federal inaction in the face of a frontier disaster. TIme as Diplomatic Affairs Minister in the Earth government allowed Broadurst to earn his spurs as an Interplanetary Statesman; a brief assignment as Federation Ambassador to Denobula would be followed by appointment to Memberworld Affairs under President Kaj Sariv. Broadhurst would build strong relationships with interstellar diplomat, while establishing himself as a driven and terrifying boss to the bureacrats that worked under him. He would stay on under President Barreuco, playing a key part in the roundabout negotations over Orion Trade Reforms. Broadhurst would resign, however, over several trade exclusion causes in April 2256, accussing them of leaving a loophole for legal piracy and slavery. As such, he was out of government for the 2256-57 war and it's tumultuous aftermath. With a clean reputation & a record as both a legislator and a policy-maker, he was an ideal pick for President Th'rhahlat's stronger position on the galactic stage. Broadhurst's ascent to High Commissioner for Interstellar Affairs came with the settling of the UFP into a grim cold war with the Klingon Empire. Broadhurst's belligerence would jarr with traditional foreign policy aims of the UFP, but would be vindicated by increasingly organised, militant and efficient encroachments by the Empire into the treaty zone, and the need to reassure internal and external allies that security promises would be maintained and extended where possible. Th'rhahlat's determination to stand up to the Klingons was firm, but he remain erratic on what that would actually look like; his own reactive tendencies jarred with Broadhurst's determination to meet Imperial enroachment with "strength and counter-thrust". This viewpoint - later known as "The Broadhurst Doctrine, Interstellar Containment or E'tayla (vulcan for constriction) His foreign policy would come to fore in summer 2261; his dogged support for the Embargo would shift the Federation sharply away from benign pacifism and into a more assertive defence of its territory. The ailing health of President Th'hahlat would see him tendering resignation at the end of 2261. Broadhurst - the only member of his cabinet with any serious support in the council - was nominated as interim successor until the September elections. Broadhurst's 211 day presidency would focus on the spiralling crisis around the declaration of the Imperial Control Region - dubbed by him the "Klingon Supreme Security Region". The enroachment of this sphere of influence into the treaty zone would peak in the crisis over Acamar in summer 2262. The divided planet's shaky government, backed by the President previously, would collapse, allowing a pro-Klingon revolutionary coalition to ascend to power. The new government, led by the radical rebels of the BGU, would invite the Klingons to construct a military base in the system. Broadhurst - unwilling to let a critical system within Federation space fall to the Empire - would order a system wide blockade by Starfleet, pushing the prime directive to the limit. With the situation on Acamar hanging in the balance and the quadrant teetering on the brink of war, Broadhurst would misjudge Klingon intentions. Believing that a climb down in naval deployments represented a willingness to engage in an "military dialogue", he would illegal authorise the movement of arms and advisors to the pro Federation forces on Acamar. The discovery of the arms shipments - sent behind the back of the cabinet and the federation council - brought the government down immediately. With impeachment on the horizon, Broadhurst would resign on July 23rd. He would not leave the office until August 3rd. Broadhurst would languish in retirement, offering tacit support for the 2263 reform act despite vocal opposition to Wescott's more conciliatory "all carrot, no stick diplomacy." He would, however, return from his retirement home in Maine at the request of President Lorna McClaren, becoming the first Permanent Federation Ambassador to the Klingon Empire: a direct request from Chancellor Sturka himself. Broadhurst's belligerent arrogance - seen as a fault within Federation circles - endeared him to the Klingons, who seemed to enjoy his general revulsion with their political class's love of violence and hatred for democracy. Broadhurst would be present in March 2270, when Sturka's corpse would be accused of crime's against the empire and "defeated in combat" by General Kesh. Broadhurst would stay on as ambassador until 2273, when he was replaced by the oncoming president, Chav bav Lorg. He returned to earth, where he would spend the rest of his days writing biographical nonfiction as well as novels. His biography of Nixon - To Win No Victories - would sell nearly as well as his longstanding (and far more pulpy) 22nd century spy thriller, The DanClair Assignment. Despite his contentious reputation, Broadhurst would recieve full honours in a state funeral in Paris. His body would be interred in a family plot in Maine. Broadhurst would be survived by 2 sons and a daughter, and five grandchildren. His second son, Eugene, would later become Prime Minister of Anchorpoint. Broadhurst's short presidency is overshadowed by his mishandling of the Acamar crisis and the triumphs of his successor, Ken Wescott. He remains, however, a pivotal part of the Federation's political history: for good and ill. |
InformationFull Name: Peter Benjamin Franklin Broadhurst
Born: 17th September, 2210 (Rosie's Cove, Anchorpoint) Died: 28th Feburary 2306 (Maine, Earth) Affiliation: United Federation of Planets 18th President of the United Federation of Planets (4th January - 3rd August 2262)
Federation Ambassador to Denobula (2250-2251) United Earth Minister for Diplomatic Affairs (2248-2250) United Earth MP for Northeastern USA (2245-2248) Director, the Blake Institute for Interstellar Relations (2240-2244) United Earth MP for Northeastern USA (2235-2240) |
Excerpts From "The Edge of Midnight"
Th’rhahlat’s best weapon against the Old-Style Federalists was Peter Broadhurst. Short – both in height and temperament - the Interstellar Affairs Commissioner’s combination of bullish charm, tactless attitude to negotiation and general decisiveness, he had easily transitioned from a civil service career with the Starfleet Secretariat towards an advisory staff position in the Christenson and Sariv administrations. Broadhurst’s general distaste for cabinet politics had, somehow, made him a vital asset to the Federal Secretariat and the flailing OSFP, who struggled had struggled to find a coherent external affairs policy in government. While much more conservative than much of the OSF-P, he broke with many of his ilk with his firebrand support for Constitutional Reform: a topic on which, in some cases, he proved more radical than Th’rhahlat.
He was an oddity in many ways, in the sort of way those who knew him either considered charming or horrifying. He took his testosterone with a needle, eschewing traditional HRT implants so he could inject himself in public (usually with trousers or other lower garments removed). He liked to take hyperloop and maglev systems as transport, making his staffers walk and talk along the length of the trains even though it made everyone (but him) violently sick.[7] His diet was notoriously atrocious: his favourite work lunch was a “Devil’s punch-dog”, a strange combination of sweet bread, cranberry sauce and beef soup lined into a bowl and consumed with a spork. The security staff at the Defence Secretariat in Shanghai learned to fear Broadhurst’s long work evenings, which usually involved him disappearing out the back exit to drive a hover-car dangerously fast so he could “clear his head”.[8] His paranoia was notorious, and sometimes silly, going as far as to bug his own working space just to make sure he knew what he’d said to other people.
Broadhurst’s own curious traits were topped by a nearly inhuman desperation to ensure that he came out on top of every negotiation: no matter the cost. He argued with anyone he thought he could beat, from waiters and staffers to his own private doctors, simply to ensure that he was the person making the choice. His decision to force the compromise on reform to get the allocations bill in December 2260 had been a clear sign of this: Broadhurst had sold his principles – and his party – down the river to get an extremely minor victory for the government. It destroyed his reputation with the party, but somehow vindicated his relationship with Th’rhahlat, who seemed unable to digest how callous Broadhurst was – or, at the very least, beyond caring. Broadhurst got results: which, when reform legislation had essentially ground to deadlock in the colonial committee and the economic council, was something the administration desperately needed.
He was an oddity in many ways, in the sort of way those who knew him either considered charming or horrifying. He took his testosterone with a needle, eschewing traditional HRT implants so he could inject himself in public (usually with trousers or other lower garments removed). He liked to take hyperloop and maglev systems as transport, making his staffers walk and talk along the length of the trains even though it made everyone (but him) violently sick.[7] His diet was notoriously atrocious: his favourite work lunch was a “Devil’s punch-dog”, a strange combination of sweet bread, cranberry sauce and beef soup lined into a bowl and consumed with a spork. The security staff at the Defence Secretariat in Shanghai learned to fear Broadhurst’s long work evenings, which usually involved him disappearing out the back exit to drive a hover-car dangerously fast so he could “clear his head”.[8] His paranoia was notorious, and sometimes silly, going as far as to bug his own working space just to make sure he knew what he’d said to other people.
Broadhurst’s own curious traits were topped by a nearly inhuman desperation to ensure that he came out on top of every negotiation: no matter the cost. He argued with anyone he thought he could beat, from waiters and staffers to his own private doctors, simply to ensure that he was the person making the choice. His decision to force the compromise on reform to get the allocations bill in December 2260 had been a clear sign of this: Broadhurst had sold his principles – and his party – down the river to get an extremely minor victory for the government. It destroyed his reputation with the party, but somehow vindicated his relationship with Th’rhahlat, who seemed unable to digest how callous Broadhurst was – or, at the very least, beyond caring. Broadhurst got results: which, when reform legislation had essentially ground to deadlock in the colonial committee and the economic council, was something the administration desperately needed.
The president understood this clearly. In his mindset, everything he wanted to achieve; democratic redress, constitutional reform and economic re-adjustment would come to naught if the frontiers of the UFP could not be protected. Barreuco’s had put the cart before the horse in the prelude to T’Kuvma’s War, and Th’rhahlat was unwilling (if not terrified) of making the same mistake. The rapid turnarounds in the fortunes of the Klingon Empire across 2260 had essentially confirmed that the UFP could not bank on any form of détente or de-escalation. If the Federation was to survive, it’s security would need to come first. The Allocations Bill, flagging in the council chamber thanks to pressure from the Archerite bloc and the emergent Originalist movement, would have to be rescued.[10] It's saviour turned out to be Peter Broadhurst, the High Commissioner for Diplomatic Affairs, who managed to agree a handshake deal with the opposition. In return for passage of the bill, the President’s office promised not to revisit the Colonial Reform Bill until the end of his current term in office, which essentially meant 2262. It was a brutal compromise, and the last one that either Th’rhahlat or Broadhurst wanted to make, but it was the only deal that the Archerites and their associates would take. The Broadhurst Compromise, as it eventually became known, was unbelievably unpopular. Colonial committee jeered the Diplomatic Commissioner when he spoke in the chamber next, while the Terra Nova Times – the paper of record for the pro-colonial faction – began to refer to him as “The Klingon of London Town,” a jibe at his perceived jingoism.
Broadhurst, never one to back down from a fight or admit a mistake, did nothing to calm the tense situation. His own remarks on the issue made it very clear that he had no time for the colonial committee, to OSFP or even the complaints of associate member worlds. “You all seem very determined to eat your omelettes with unbroken eggs,” he told the council on December 4th 2260., during the last session of the year. “We cannot reform the Federation if there is no Federation. There is no other way about it. The Union must survive before we can even consider constitutional reform. We cannot pretend anything to do it any other way.”
Such talk of protecting the Union was almost tempting fate. The rejection of the reform bill had done a lot more than cause arguments in the chamber. Many members of the UFP’s associate worlds regarded this rejection of democratic rebalance as a sign that the Federation was closing ranks to protect itself from the Klingons, and tossing out those who had, for a very long time, been happy to loiter on the edge of full membership. The reform bill had offered the possibility of political representation of some sort, and now it appeared to be dead. Even worse, many of the frontier member worlds – whose opinions of Federation Central had been souring for much of the 2250s – had their worst fears concerned about the “humans only club” that governed the union. The reform bill would have redressed the balance between the fringe and the core decisively and combined with the failure of Starfleet to protect them, many began wondering what exactly the United Federation of Planets had to offer. Discussions amongst political leaders from Regulus, Kretassa, Sauria and a dozen other worlds were grim portents for the political crises of the 2260s. The seeds of the Coridan Affair, the 3rd Altair War and the Reform Crisis of ’63 were all planted at the end of 2260. Their fruits would not take long to flower.
Broadhurst, never one to back down from a fight or admit a mistake, did nothing to calm the tense situation. His own remarks on the issue made it very clear that he had no time for the colonial committee, to OSFP or even the complaints of associate member worlds. “You all seem very determined to eat your omelettes with unbroken eggs,” he told the council on December 4th 2260., during the last session of the year. “We cannot reform the Federation if there is no Federation. There is no other way about it. The Union must survive before we can even consider constitutional reform. We cannot pretend anything to do it any other way.”
Such talk of protecting the Union was almost tempting fate. The rejection of the reform bill had done a lot more than cause arguments in the chamber. Many members of the UFP’s associate worlds regarded this rejection of democratic rebalance as a sign that the Federation was closing ranks to protect itself from the Klingons, and tossing out those who had, for a very long time, been happy to loiter on the edge of full membership. The reform bill had offered the possibility of political representation of some sort, and now it appeared to be dead. Even worse, many of the frontier member worlds – whose opinions of Federation Central had been souring for much of the 2250s – had their worst fears concerned about the “humans only club” that governed the union. The reform bill would have redressed the balance between the fringe and the core decisively and combined with the failure of Starfleet to protect them, many began wondering what exactly the United Federation of Planets had to offer. Discussions amongst political leaders from Regulus, Kretassa, Sauria and a dozen other worlds were grim portents for the political crises of the 2260s. The seeds of the Coridan Affair, the 3rd Altair War and the Reform Crisis of ’63 were all planted at the end of 2260. Their fruits would not take long to flower.