A specter is haunting
Europe: the specter of what in the West is called "dissent."
This specter has not appeared out of thin air. It is a
natural and inevitable consequence of the present historical
phase of the system it is haunting. It was born at a time
when this system, for a thousand reasons, can no longer base
itself on the unadulterated, brutal, and arbitrary
application of power, eliminating all expressions of
nonconformity. What is more, the system has become so
ossified politically that there is practically no way for
such nonconformity to be implemented within its official
structures.
Who are these so-called dissidents? Where does their
point of view come from, and what importance does it have?
What is the real significance of the "independent
initiatives" in which "dissidents" collaborate, and what
real chances do such initiatives have of success? Is it
appropriate to refer to "dissidents" as an opposition? If
so, what exactly is such an opposition within the framework
of this system? What does it do? What role does it play in
society? What are its hopes and on what are they based? Is
it within the power of the "dissidents"--as a category of
subcitizen outside the power establishment--to have any
influence at all on society and the social system? Can they
actually change anything?
I think that an examination of these questions--an
examination of the potential of the "powerless"--can only
begin with an examination of the nature of power in the
circumstances in which these powerless people operate.
...
The manager of a fruit-and-vegetable shop places in his
window, among the onions and carrots, the slogan: "Workers
of the world, unite!" Why does he do it? What is he trying
to communicate to the world? Is he genuinely enthusiastic
about the idea of unity among the workers of the world? Is
his enthusiasm so great that he feels an irrepressible
impulse to acquaint the public with his ideals? Has he
really given more than a moment's thought to how such a
unification might occur and what it would mean? . . . He put
[the sign] into the window simply because it has been done
that way for years, because everyone does it, and because
that is the way it has to be. . . .
[T]he real meaning of the greengrocer's slogan has
nothing to do with what the text of the slogan actually
says. Even so, this real meaning is quite clear and
generally comprehensible because the code is so familiar:
the greengrocer declares his loyalty . . . in the only way
the regime is capable of hearing; that is, by accepting the
prescribed ritual, by accepting appearances as
reality, by accepting the given rules of the game. In doing
so, however, he has himself become a player in the game,
thus making it possible for the game to go on, for it to
exist in the first place. . . .
Let us now imagine that one day something in our
greengrocer snaps and he stops putting the slogans merely to
ingratiate himself. He stops voting in elections he knows
are a farce. He begins to say what he really thinks at
political meetings. . . . He rejects the ritual and breaks
the rules of the game. He discovers once more his suppressed
identity and dignity. . . .
. . . He has shown everyone that it is possible to
live within the truth. Living within the lie can constitute
the system only if it is universal. The principle must
embrace and permeate everything. There are no terms
whatsoever on which it can coexist with living within the
truth, and therefore everyone who steps out of line
denies it in principle and threatens it in its entirety.
. . .
And since all genuine problems and matters of critical
importance are hidden beneath a thick crust of lies, it is
never quite clear when the proverbial last straw will fall,
or what that straw will be. This . . . is why the regime
prosecutes, almost as a reflex action preventively, even the
most modest attempts to live within the truth.
. . . [T]he crust presented by the life of lies is made
of strange stuff. As long as it seals off hermetically the
entire society, it appears to be made of stone. But the
moment someone breaks through in one place, when one person
cries out, "The emperor is naked!"--when a single person
breaks the rules of the game, this exposing it as a
game--everything suddenly appears in another light and the
whole crust seems then to be made of a tissue on the point
of tearing and disintegrating uncontrollably.
...
I know from thousands of personal experiences how the
mere circumstance of having signed Charter 77 has
immediately created a deeper and more open relationship and
evoked sudden and powerful feelings of genuine community
among people who were all but strangers before. This kind of
thing happens only rarely, if at all, even among people who
have worked together for long periods in some apathetic
official structure. It is as though the mere awareness and
acceptance of a common task and a shared experience were
enough to transform people and the climate of their lives,
as though it gave their public work a more human dimension
than is seldom found elsewhere.
Perhaps all this is only the consequence of a common
threat. Perhaps the moment the threat ends or eases, the
mood it helped create will begin to dissipate as well. (The
aim of those who threaten us, however, is precisely the
opposite. Again and again, one is shocked by the energy they
devote to contaminating, in various despicable ways, all the
human relationships inside the threatened community.)
Yet even if that were so, it would change nothing in the
question I have posed.
We do not know the way out of the marasmus of the world,
and it would be an expression of unforgivable pride were we
to see the little we do as a fundamental solution, or were
we to present ourselves, our community, and our solutions to
vital problems as the only thing worth doing.
Even so, I think that given all these preceding thoughts
on post-totalitarian conditions, and given the circumstances
and the inner constitution of the developing efforts to
defend human beings and their identity in such
circumstances, the questions I have posed are appropriate.
If nothing else, they are an invitation to reflect
concretely on our experience and to give some thought to
whether certain elements of that experience do not--without
our really being aware of it--point somewhere further,
beyond their apparent limits, certain challenges are not
already encoded, quietly waiting for the moment when they
will be read and grasped.
For the real question is whether the brighter future is
really always so distant. What if, on the contrary, it has
been here for a long time already, and only our own
blindness and weakness has prevented us from seeing it
around us and within us, and kept us from developing it?
October 1978 |