Shikasta (55 page)

Of this persistence, or continuance, more in a moment. Meanwhile, I pause to comment that this young black woman's contribution was the most reasoned of all the indictments. I do not mean she was more
correct.
That is not my point here.

There is no end to the indictments against the white man. I say this and need say no more: one has only to mention any country and the stark facts and figures spring to mind. We
did not need a ‘Trial'!

But this young woman was making a point others had not. ‘Stupidity', ‘ignorance', ‘arrogance', the crude self-satisfaction we have so often discussed – these are one thing, and these words or similar ones ended every one of the ‘indictments'. But she was saying something more.
How was it possible
for a tract of country the size of Honan Province to be conquered by a handful of adventurers, and thereafter to be
forgotten
by the empire? Because that is what happened here. Brutality, yes. Ignorance, yes. Yes, yes, yes. But these have not been exactly unknown in history. But it was possible, in the British Empire, for a vast part of Africa to be physically conquered, put in the care of one hundred thousand whites – and the number of these never rose above half a million – and thereafter forgotten. Oh, governors were sent out – the type we know so well. I don't doubt that from time to time the British government was reminded by its financiers that there were interests there that needed guarding, but that was all. Serious undertakings, promises, obligations, were not reneged on so much as
overlooked.
To the extent that the Rhodesian crisis when it finally matured could be discussed for years and years, and the key fact never mentioned.

And now to my point about a continuation of a trend, a strand, a factor in a place, or among a people.

This ‘Trial' took place – as far as the participants were concerned – for only one reason: to air grievances and complaints against the erstwhile colonial oppressors. The Imperialists. That was its function. This girl made her case for four hours, calling in the aid of her white lawyer, and she was listened to with great attention. And yet
her case got lost.
It was because of the general atmosphere – that there was so much to listen to, to work through, in conditions of such discomfort. Her point, that a great empire was able to conquer and then to forget, or overlook, a territory the size of Honan was not taken in. Is not that extraordinary?
In fact, what happened was what had always happened to that particular territory.
Yet a few hundred miles to the north, in
Northern Rhodesia, shortly to be Zambia, uprisings, and successful ones, took place among the black peoples against the whites, and the key emotional factor was precisely that the British people, in the person of Queen Victoria, had made promises which had not been kept.
There,
effective. In Rhodesia, not.

Well, I at least find myself reflecting on this point. A geographical area keeps a certain flavour, which manifests in all its happenings, its events, its history. I cite for instance the lamented Soviet Union, or Russia, where events occur and continue to repeat themselves, over and over, regardless of whether that vast land is called Russia or the Soviet Union, or its dominant ways of thought are this or that or the other. And of course there are other examples we may easily think of.

I sometimes wonder if this thought may not be usefully taught to children at the start of their ‘geography lessons'. Or would one call it
history?
If I seem to ramble, put it down to the long night of anxious wakefulness. The dawn is here and I shall not rest yet, for I wish to finish this long letter to you; the courier will leave this evening.

I return to the amphitheatre: Africa was the agenda for several days.

Meanwhile, in the camp itself, it is clear that the organization was suffering.

Everyone was really hungry, lacking sleep, hot, dusty. By now nearly all of them flocked to the coast for the midday hours, and of course this made them even more tired.

There was by now a feeling of urgency. With the full moon blazing down, so that the thousands on the tiers were fully visible to each other, and the torches almost unnecessary, the contenders dealt fast with: the ruining of the Pacific, the imposition there of alien ways on ancient and peaceful societies, the forcible imposition of Christianity, the destruction of islands in the interests of western industry and agriculture, the use of the Pacific for nuclear weapons tests as if this ocean belonged to Europe. They dealt with: European rule over subjugated peoples in the Middle East, the irreconcilable promises made to Arabs and Jews, the
arrogance displayed … ‘contempt, arrogance, stupidity, ignorance'.

I interpose at this point that those so recent enemies the Arabs and Jews were inseparable, and took every opportunity of reminding us of their common origin, their similar religions, the compatibility of their cultures, and – so they intend – their common and harmonious future.

The ‘Trial' then dealt with: the white man in Australia, the white man in New Zealand, the white man in Canada, the white man in the Antarctic.

You will note that I have scarcely mentioned the Russians. One reason is that there were no Russian delegates, though there were from the Russian colonies Poland, Bulgaria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Rumania, Cuba, Afghanistan, parts of the Middle East.

By then, delegates were following each other every ten minutes, and they were in lines stretching up the aisles and waiting to recite, or to shout, their indictments, and to return to their places.

We have now reached halfway through the ‘Trial' – the fifteenth day. Re-reading the agents' reports, what is striking is the note of frustration – annoyance. You will bear in mind that our agents are all active members of their representative organizations, not dissidents or oddballs. They act for us mostly without payment, and as a token of appreciation for our Beneficent Rule. They are emotionally part of the Youth Armies, and their value is that they share with, and cannot help but register, the prevailing common mood or moods.

I again have to ask, What was it that all these young people were expecting and that they were not given? For on the face of it, they were getting exactly what they had come for.

I quote Tsi Kwang: ‘There is an incorrect spirit. The cadres are not overcoming the difficulties of the situation. There is vacillation and also many mistakes. There is an insufficient readiness to boldly grasp the bourgeois distortions that cannot help but negate the true experience of the sincere Youth.' And so on for several pages.

All our agents, during those days, turned in similar reports.

The egregious Benjamin Sherban: ‘The centre cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.' I am told that these are lines from an ancient folk ballad. (I would like to hear the rest of it, for there may be guidance there in present difficulties.)

It is clear that the delegates were at breaking point and it was only because of the flexibility and tolerance of the organizers that the ‘Trial' could continue at all. For one thing, alcohol was now entering the camp and affecting discipline. For another, sex, previously discreet and within the limits of good sense, was now blatant, not only between delegates, but between them and the locals.

The prevailing mood was one of restlessness, dissatisfaction, a continual
movement
around the camp, from tent to improvised shelter to mess tents, where debates and ‘seminars' seemed continuously in progress, and from the camp to the shores – and by now some donkeys had been pressed into service, and derelict army trucks had been located and put into use (petrol being commandeered of course) and parties of delegates moved up and down the coasts entering towns and villages to try and organize food, and individuals wandered about as well, for as usual on these highly pressured occasions, there are always those who seem to spin off, as if from a centrifuge. These broke down, or threatened to, wept, complained of being underrated, discussed the possibilities of suicide, and fell hopelessly in love with delegates whom they certainly will never see again.

All this did not mean the sessions were not fully attended. The amphitheatre was crammed, attentive, centred on the events in the arena, from four until eight, and from five until midnight. But now they were less silent, intervened often in the ‘indictments', adding comments and facts and figures. There was total participation between audience and – I was going to say – actors.

There seemed no reason why the supply of witnesses should ever end, but already it was being asked when the old white, who was sitting there hour after hour, day after day, silent, on his chair, was ‘going to defend himself'. But
meanwhile, of course, he had been continuously in conversation with everyone interested – and this by now was everyone – whether hostile or not, during the hours of leisure, if that is a word that may be used for such a frenzy of restlessness. In short, he was not being thought of as enemy, and the epithets (correctly of course) used of him by our informants seemed to me to lack the fervour they had had at the beginning.

It was being openly said that the ‘Trial' could not run its course of a full month, for conditions were becoming impossible.

It was at this point that something new happened. Aircraft appeared, evidently keeping watch. The first was on the night of the full moon: a helicopter hovered over the amphitheatre for some minutes, and proceedings had to be stopped until it decided to go. This attentive,
unmarked
machine made its effect: our agents report fury, exasperation, a pent-up rage – if the machine had been within reach it would not have survived. There were ‘jokes' about surveillance from the Russians. Also by us. (I report, merely, without comment.) On the next night, a different craft appeared, also unmarked, and remained over the amphitheatre until its point had been made. Again the reaction was fury. An almost hysterical rage. Do you think it is possible that in some quarters it is not appreciated what horror and loathing are felt by many for the products of our human ingenuity and technological progress? Various and different craft kept appearing in the skies at all hours of the day and night from then on, some very low, some so high as to be almost invisible, most unknown to the – very expert – youngsters watching them. ‘Jokes' were made about spacemen, flying saucers, international police forces, flying squads of vigilantes, guided spy satellites.

And the imminent war became suddenly the chief topic. If this was what the surveillant craft wished to achieve, they succeeded.

Now the moon was past its full, appearing later each evening, the torches were again exerting their strong emotional effect on everyone.

Abruptly, on the ninth night, George Sherban, who had
said practically nothing at all during the actual sessions, came forward to remark, and in a casual way – which annoyed some of our agents – ‘that it seemed to him time that the prosecution rested its case.' This had not been expected, or at least, not then. But no sooner had he said it, than at once it was felt by everyone that he was right, for what could be added to the indictments they had already heard!

They had, however, been expecting a summing up, but all he said was: ‘I rest my case, and call upon John Brent-Oxford to speak.'

At first there was a strong reaction. But it changed from disappointment to approval, and the young people were saying to each other that this was a correct, if daring approach.

The silence was absolute. The old white did not stand up. No one expected it: all knew his health was poor. Sitting in his chair, from which he had not moved for all those sessions, he said, clearly, but with no effort to be heard:

‘I plead guilty to everything that has been said. How can I do anything else?'

Silence again.

He did not say anything more. Muttering began, angry laughter, then a stirring, and indignation.

This tension was broken by some young man calling out in the peering but good-humoured way which was, it is clear, very much the note or style of the ‘Trial': ‘Well, what are we going to do? Lynch him?'

Laughter. Some of our agents report that they did not find the moment amusing. There was lacking, claimed Tsi Kwang, a proper respect for ‘the healthy verdicts of history'.

There was also considerable confusion, and a good deal of anger.

After some minutes the old white held up his hand for silence and spoke again:

‘I want to ask all of you present: Why is it that you, the accusers, have adopted with such energy and efficiency the ways you have been criticizing? Of course some of you have been given no alternative: I refer to the North American and
the South American Indians, for example. But others have had a choice. Why is it that so many of you who have not been forced into it, have chosen to copy the materialism, the greed, the rapacity of the white man's technological society?'

With which he stopped speaking.

There was indignation, and a loud murmur of talk, which became a clamour.

Then George Sherban called up, ‘Since it is nearly midnight, I suggest we call a halt and resume the discussion at four a.m. as usual.'

The tiers emptied fast. That night very few people left the camp. It was seething, and pervaded by a spirit which, after very carefully perusing the reports, I am going to take the liberty of describing as jocular.

The four hours were spent in energetic discussion. Everywhere they were speculating about the defence they were about to hear. They were
joking
that it was obvious that the white man, always in the right, was about to accuse them, particularly those nonwhite nations which had taken efficiently to industry and technology – which I am happy to say includes us – of many of the crimes
he
had been accused of. In a spirit of part anger, part burlesque, in hundreds of conversations between couples, among groups, in ‘seminars', these probable accusations were being framed and elaborated, and even offered to the old white for use.