The Human floated in the orbital spaceport bar, sipping a bulb of hard apple cider and reading a dull news article on his datapad. He was just killing time, really, before his ship left.
A Paculate flew in on artificial wings. To Human eyes, Paculates looked like a cross between a cow and an elephant. They were clumsy in microgravity, hence the artificial aids. The newcomer ordered a very strong fermented grass porridge.
"Are you sure?" the bartender asked.
"Yes," the Paculate snarled, and trailed off into profanity the Human couldn't follow. The galactic standard language worked well for most things, but profanity was still subject to regional variation.
The bartender went to prepare the order, and the Human looked up. This had the potential to be more interesting than the news.
"It can't be that bad, can it?" he asked.
"I spent the last five years mapping 1,5-chloro-NADH pathways. In simulation, I can increase crop yields by 17%. The minister of biosciences is more interested in seducing the minister of agriculture than in doing their job, so I've gotten no instructions or resources for going forward. Five years. A 17% potential. All wasted."
The bartender returned with the Paculate's order. He floated a money-card across the bar and took a big gulp of it. He shuddered as the chemicals slammed into his nervous system.
"How do your people manage it, anyway?"
Humans in spaceport bars got that question pretty often. Since the bars had started stocking good ethanolic beverages, it was no longer considered rude. He gave the traditional answer.
"Manage what?"
"To always have such good leadership."
"Good leadership? Always? We've had terrible leaders. And our current crop is mediocre at best."
"Mediocre by your standards," the Paculate said, taking another hit of his intoxicant, "But you went from subsistence agriculture to spacefaring in under a thousand standard years. You have almost continuous real GDP growth and I can't remember the last yearly technology roundup without a human invention."
"That happened despite our leaders more often than because of them. When we had our information revolution in the late 20th century it took decades for our leaders to notice. 90 percent of their constituents were using the global data network on a daily basis and they were still discussing whether to think of it as a truck or a series of tubes.
"And the industrial revolution was even worse. Half of that was in late 18th century England, under George III. The man was literally insane. He held conversations with trees while water-powered textile mills went up around him."
The Paculate's smart-monocle lit up with historical context. He grunted vague acknowledgement, then asked "So who decides what new technology gets funded?"
"Venture capitalists, I guess. It's their job, anyway. They invest in promising ideas and get paid if their picks succeed."
"And they are wise?"
"Hardly. Idiots, mostly. Trying to imitate each other but do it first. Jumping on and off bandwagons fast enough to make your head spin. They go under all the time."
"So how do the right things get funded?"
"Well, there are a lot of them, and it only takes one to fund something. Lots of junk gets funded too."
"Not everything can work like that. What about wikipedia? I use it myself: it's the biggest, best organized, most reliable compendium of knowledge I've ever seen. There's got to be some solid leadership behind that."
"Nope. The leaders resolve conflicts that can't be settled amiably, and they mostly do that badly. Most authors have no interaction with the leadership. The organization happens because everyone wants it organized."
"It can't all be like that. Doesn't your largest religion have almost two billion adherents?"
"Something like that. But its biggest period of growth was while its leaders were busy backstabbing each other and finding sinecures for their children despite being sworn to chastity. Meanwhile the missionaries -- well, the conquistadores anyway -- were busy getting things done on the other side of the world."
"Hang on. I've been in Human cities. They're so safe. Are you going to tell me you did that without law enforcement?"
"We have law enforcement, but hardly anybody depends on it. Crime sort of withered away in the late 20th century despite a police force nobody would want around. Our historians are still pretty confused about it, to be honest."
The Human's datapad beeped. He glanced at it, slipped it in his pocket and finished off his cider.
"My ship is boarding," he said, "Hope things work out for you. You know, there's a Human VC on this station. You could pitch your 1,5-chloro-whatever thing to him. Might get somewhere.
"You asked how we manage to always have good leaders. We don't. We manage to never need them."
And he floated out of the bar, leaving a thoughtful Paculate behind him.
^Author's ^Note: ^I ^didn't ^fact-check ^this. ^Happy ^U.S. ^Election ^Day.