The Porcupine

by Julian Barnes

  ‘If that’s the case,’ she replied, ‘it shouldn’t have been difficult to prove without whoring for television and inventing fake evidence.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Peter, you don’t really think the worst criminal in our nation’s history would sign such a useful document which Ganin just happened to discover when the prosecution wasn’t having the success he’d hoped?’

  Naturally, he had considered that, and was ready with his defences. If Petkanov hadn’t signed that memorandum, he must have signed something like it. We are only putting into concrete form an order he must have given over the telephone. Or with a handshake, a nod, a pertinent failure to disapprove. The document is true, even if it is a forgery. Even if it isn’t true, it is necessary. Each excuse was weaker, yet also more brutal.

  In the grim silence of marital despair, he felt sarcasm rise unstoppably to his mouth. ‘Well, at least our legal system is a slight improvement on that of the NKVD in Stalingrad around 1937.’

  Maria took her hand off his shoulder. ‘It’s a show trial, Peter. Just the modern version. A show trial, that’s all. But I’m sure they’ll be very pleased.’ Then she left the room, and he continued looking out over the smog, with the growing realisation that she had also left his life.

  That imbecile boy prosecutor didn’t know what he was up against. If hard labour in Varkova hadn’t broken him, when even some of the toughest comrades wet their pants at the thought of a visit from the Iron Guard, he wasn’t going to be beaten down by this pitiful cabbage-brained lawyer who was fifth choice for the job. He, Stoyo Petkanov, had sent the boy’s father packing without much trouble, kicked him out of the Politburo on a ten-to-one vote and then kept him well watched in his bee-keeping exile. So what chance did this ball-less son of his stand, pottering into court with a silly grin and a bagful of faked evidence?

  They – all of them – had this absurd idea that they’d won. Not the trial, which was no more significant than a priest’s fart, since they’d arranged the verdict two seconds after deciding the charges; but the historical struggle. How little did they know. ‘You don’t get to Heaven on the first jump.’ Look how many jumps they and their sort had had over the centuries. Jump, jump, jump, like a spotted frog in a slimy pond. But so far we have had only one jump, and what a glorious leap it has been. Especially since the whole process began not as Marx had predicted, but in the wrong country and at the wrong time, with all the counter-revolutionary forces lined up to strangle it at birth. Then the Revolution had to be built amid a world economic crisis, defended in a bloody war against Fascism, defended once more against the American bandits with their arms race, and yet … and yet we had half the world on our side in a mere fifty years. What a glorious first jump!

  Now capitalist filth and newspaper whores were vomiting up their slanders about ‘the inevitable collapse of Communism’ and ‘the inherent contradictions of the system’, smirking as they filched the very phrases which had applied for so long – and still applied – to capitalism. He’d read of a bourgeois economist called Fischer who claimed that ‘the collapse of Communism signifies the repurification of Capitalism’. We’ll see about that, Herr Fischer. What was happening was that just for a brief historical moment the old system was being allowed a last little hop in its slimy frog-pond. But then, inevitably, the spirit of Socialism will shake itself again, and in our next jump we shall squelch the capitalists down into the mud until they expire beneath our boots.

  We worked and we erred. We worked and we erred. Perhaps, in truth, we had been too ambitious, thinking we could change everything, the structure of society and the nature of the individual, within a couple of generations. He himself had always been less sure about this than some others, and had constantly warned against the resurgence of bourgeois-fascist elements. And he’d been proved right in the last year or two, when all the scum of society had risen to the surface again. But if bourgeois-fascist elements could survive forty years of Socialism, imagine how unquenchably strong in comparison is the soul of Socialism itself.

  This movement to which he had dedicated his life could not be snuffed out by a few opportunists, a sackful of dollars and a cunt in the Kremlin. It was as old and as strong as the human spirit itself. It would come back, with fresh vigour, soon, very soon. It might have a different name, a different banner. But men and women would always want to walk that path, that tricky uphill path across the river of stones and through the damp cloud, because they knew that at the end they would burst into the bright sunshine and see the mountain top clear above them. Men and women dreamed of that moment. They would link arms again. They would have a new song – no longer ‘Stepping the Red Pathway’ as it had been on Rykosha Mountain. But they would sing this new song to the old tune. And they would gather themselves to make that mighty second jump. Then the ground would shake and all the capitalists and imperialists and plant-loving Fascists and filth and scum and renegades and fucking intellectuals and boy prosecutors and Judases with birdshit on their skulls would shit themselves one final, mighty time.

  ‘I am Stoyo Petkanov.’

  On the forty-fifth day of his trial, the former President addressed the court in his own defence. He stood with one hand on the padded rail, a small, stout figure, his head lifted and jowls tight, checking through his tinted glasses which camera he was on. He coughed, and started again in a firmer, clearer voice.

  ‘I am Stoyo Petkanov. I have received the Collar of the Grand Order “El Libertador” from the Republic of Argentina. The Great Star of the Order of Merit from the Republic of Austria. The Great Collar of the Leopold Order from Belgium. The Great Collar of the Cruizeiro do Sul National Order from Brazil. The Grand Cross of the Order of Valour from the Burundi Republic.’

  [‘I don’t believe this.’]

  ‘And also from the Burundi Republic the Grand Girdle of the National Order.’

  [‘To keep his stomach in.’]

  ‘The Grand Cross of the Order of Value of Cameroon. The memorial medal to mark the 30th Anniversary of the May Insurrection of the Czechoslovak People. The Great Cross of the Order of Merit of the Centrafrican Republic. The Boyaca Order of Colombia. The Great Cross of Merit from the People’s Republic of Congo. The Jose Marti Order from the Republic of Cuba. The Great Girdle of the Makarios Order from Cyprus.’

  [‘To keep his stomach in.’]

  ‘The Order of the Elephant from Denmark. The title of Doctor Honoris Causa of the Central University of Ecuador. The Order “Great Collar of the Nile” from the Arab Republic of Egypt. The Order of the Great Cross of the White Rose from Finland. The Great Cross of the Legion of Honour from France. Also the memorial medal Georges Pompidou. Also the title Doctor Honoris Causa from the University of Nice.’

  [‘Who did he fuck in France?’

  ‘Everyone. De Gaulle. Giscard. Mitterrand.’]

  ‘The Gold Medal of the Senate and the Memorial Coffer prepared on the Centennial Anniversary of the French Senate. The Great Cross of the Equatorial Star Order from Gabon. The Karl Marx Order from the German Democratic Republic.’

  [‘He fucked Honecker.’

  ‘He fucked Karl Marx.’

  ‘Knock it off, you two.’]

  ‘The Great Cross of the Order of Merit from the Federal Republic of Germany. The Knight of the Order of the Star of Ghana. The Great Cross of the Order of the Saviour from Greece. And the Gold Medal of Athens City. The Great Cross of the National Order “Truthfulness to the People” from the Republic of Guinea.’

  [‘Truthfulness to the People!’

  ‘The inhabitants of Guinea are noted for their sense of irony, Dimiter.’]

  ‘The Pahlavi Order with Collar from Iran. The Order “The Great Girdle of Merit of the Republic” from Italy. Also the Aldo Moro Gold Medal. Also the Simba Award for Peace. Also the Special Gold Medal, first class, Leonardo da Vinci, of the Rome International Relations Institute. Also the Gold Plaquette of the Piedmont Regional Junta. The Great Cross of the National Order of t
he Ivory Coast. The Al-Hussein Bin-Ali Collar from Jordan. The Order “The Republic’s Flag”, first class, from the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. The Moubarak the Great Collar from Kuwait. Also the Silver Plaquette of Kuwait University. The Order of Lebanese Merit. The Great Girdle of the Order of Pioneers from the Republic of Liberia.’

  [‘To keep his stomach in.’]

  ‘The Great Collar of the Mahammaddi Order of Morocco. The Great Girdle of Mauretanian National Merit. The Medal “Champion of World Peace of the 20th Century” from Mauritius. The Great Collar of the Mexican Order of the Aztec Eagle. The Jubilee Gold Medal issued on the Fifth Anniversary of the Independence of Mozambique. The Order of St Olav from Norway. The Medal of Amsterdam City offered by the Mayor. The Nishan-i-Pakistan Order. Also the Pakistan Jubilee Medal Quaid-l-Azam. The Great Cross of the Order of the Sun from Peru. Also the title Doctor Honoris Causa of the National Engineering University of Peru. The Order Sikutana, first class, from The Philippines. The Great Cross of the Santiago Order from Portugal. The Equestrian Order of San Marino. The Great Cross of the National Order of the Lion of Senegal. The Great Girdle of the Omayds from the Syrian Arab Republic.’

  [‘I didn’t say anything.’]

  ‘The Knight of the Star of Somalia with Big Girdle.’

  [‘Ppfffffkkkkk.’]

  ‘The Order Civil Merit with Collar from Spain. The Order Collar of Honour from Sudan. The Seraphim Royal Order from Sweden. The Great Girdle of the Order of Independence from Turkey. The Diploma of Citizen of Honour and the Gold Key of Ankara City. The Knight of the Great Cross of the Bath Order from the United Kingdom.’

  [‘He fucked the Queen of England.’

  ‘Yeah. In the bath.’

  ‘He’d do anything for his country.’]

  ‘The Lenin Order from the USSR.’

  [‘Now we’re talking. He really fucked Lenin.’

  ‘Does your granny know, Stefan?’

  ‘And Stalin.’

  ‘And Khrushchev.’

  ‘And Brezhnev.’

  ‘Lots of times. And Andropov.’

  ‘And … who was that other fucker?’

  ‘Chernenko?’

  ‘And Chernenko.’

  ‘He didn’t fuck Gorbachev.’

  ‘Gorbachev wouldn’t fuck him. Not after he’d been with all the others. Think what he must have picked up.’

  ‘He probably gave it to the Queen of England.’

  ‘No. That’s why she made him do it in the bath.’]

  ‘Also, the Jubilee Medal “Twenty Years Since the Victory in the Great Patriotic War”. Also the Jubilee Medal Instituted on the Centennial of Lenin. Also the Jubilee Medal “Thirty Years Since the Victory in the Great Patriotic War”. The Order “El Libertador” from Venezuela. The Great Girdle of the National Order of Upper Volta. The Great Star Order of Yugoslavia. Also the Memorial Plaquette of Belgrade City. The Great Girdle of the National Order of the Leopard from Zaire. Also the Order “Great Friend of Freedom”, Great Commander, from Zambia. Also …’

  [‘Also!’]

  ‘Also the Apimondia Jubilee Medal. The Gold Medal Frédéric Joliot-Curie of the World Peace Council. The Jubilee Medal of the World Federation of United Towns. The Silver Jubilee Medal issued on the 25th Anniversary of the United Nations. The Norbert Wiener Gold Medal. The Gold Medal with Sash and Plaquette of the Institute for Problems of the New International Economic Order. The Distinction “Man of the Year 1980” for Peace.’

  [‘He fucked the world.’

  ‘He didn’t fuck Israel. He didn’t fuck the US.’

  ‘He fucked France a lot.’

  ‘France lets everyone fuck her.’

  ‘He fucked the Queen of England. I can’t get over that.’

  ‘It was all those collars and girdles he was wearing. She couldn’t see who was underneath.’

  ‘He’d have to take them off to get into the bath.’

  ‘Perhaps he kept them on till the last minute, then, wwwwwwwwaaaaafffff, too late, Your Majesty.’

  ‘He fucked the world.’

  ‘And the world fucked him. The world fucked us.’

  ‘You boys are silly. The trouble is, you’re right.’

  ‘Silly but right, silly but right.’

  ‘What do you mean, Vera?’

  ‘Those two keep saying we’ve been fucked. We have, against our will, over and over again. The whole country. What we need is therapy. Do you think a whole country can get therapy?’

  ‘It doesn’t work like that. You’ve just got to be prepared to be fucked by the next person instead.’

  ‘Yeah, Uncle Sam with his stars-and-stripes prick.’

  ‘At least he gives you presents. Packs of Marlboro.’

  ‘Then he fucks you.’

  ‘It’s better than being fucked by Brezhnev.’

  ‘Anything’s better than that. The way he used to keep his boots on in bed. He simply didn’t know how sensitive a girl can be.’

  ‘God, you boys are so cynical.’

  ‘We need therapy, Vera, that’s our problem.’

  ‘Or another beer.’

  ‘Shh. Look at this bit.’]

  ‘I was born an orphan. I was brought up under the fascist monarchy. I joined the Union of Communist Youth. I was persecuted by the bourgeois-landlord police. I served my sentence in Varkova prison. “He who has learned in the tough school of Varkova will never give up the cause of Socialism and Communism.” I shed blood for my country in the Anti-Fascist Struggle. I have been helmsman of this nation for thirty-three years. Unemployment has been abolished. Inflation has been controlled by scientific methods. The Fascists have been routed. Peace has been uninterrupted. Prosperity has increased. Under my guidance, this country has grown in international stature.

  ‘And now I find myself in a very strange position.’ The red light winked on camera 2, and Petkanov turned with avuncular ease to address the nation directly. ‘I find myself in court. I am charged with bringing peace and prosperity and international respect to this country. I am charged with uprooting Fascism, with abolishing unemployment, with building schools and hospitals and hydro-electric dams. I am charged with being a Socialist and a Communist. Guilty, comrades, in every case.’

  He took a pause there, and let his eye drift around the court. ‘Comrades,’ he repeated. ‘Yes, that is another strange thing. For wherever I look nowadays I see old comrades. People who swore their loyalty to the Party, who pronounced themselves true Communists, who asked for the support of the Party in their careers, who were educated, fed and clothed by Socialism, but who have now decided, in the expediency of the moment and for their own personal advantage, that they were not after all the Socialists and Communists that they once proudly maintained they were.

  ‘Well, then, I plead guilty to sacrificing my life to improve that of the workers and peasants of our great nation. And as I said at the start of this … this television show for the American networks, I have been here before. I shall conclude not with my own words, but with the testimony of others. I read into the record of the court the following statements.

  ‘Queen Elizabeth of England: “We in Great Britain today are impressed with the resolute stand you have taken in supporting this independence. Your personality, Mr President, as a statesman of world-wide repute, experience and influence, is widely acknowledged.”

  ‘Margaret Thatcher, Prime Minister of Great Britain …’

  Solinsky was on his feet. ‘Mr President of the Court, do we really …’

  Petkanov cut off the Prosecutor General as he had so many times silenced the boy’s father at meetings of the Politburo. He addressed the bench with a bullying politeness. ‘You have graciously allowed me one hour. I am not supposed to mention our agreement to this effect. I am supposed to pretend that I do not wish to speak for longer than that time. You have given me an hour. I shall take it.’

  ‘It is precisely because of such behaviour’, replied the judge, ‘that a limit has been imposed. You h
ave one hour to make legal submissions and legal arguments.’

  ‘That is what I am doing, precisely. Margaret Thatcher, Prime Minister of Great Britain …’ Petkanov looked up aggressively at the President, who gave a weary nod, took off his watch and placed it in front of him. ‘Margaret Thatcher: “I was impressed by the personality of the President and I am left with particular impressions about him as leader of a country willing to develop her co-operation with other nations.”

  ‘Richard Nixon: “By his so profound understanding of the world’s major problems, the President can contribute and does contribute to the settlement of mankind’s most urgent global problems.”

  ‘President Jimmy Carter: “The President’s influence in the international arena as leader is outstanding. Thanks to her President’s steady position and her independence, his country is able to act as a bridge between nations with profoundly diverging standpoints and interests, and between leaders who would otherwise have found it difficult to negotiate with one another.”

  ‘Andreas Papandreou: “The President is not only a great leader, an outstanding politician of the Balkans and of Europe, but also a front-ranking personality of the world.”

  ‘Carl Gustav XVI, King of Sweden: “You have come to symbolise the progress made by your country in the last decades. With great interest we witness the way in which your country, under your leadership, has traversed an impressive economic development.”

  ‘Juan Carlos, King of Spain: “You, Mr President, have proved, on many occasions, an active, untiring dedication to the cause of détente, to the safeguarding of all people’s inalienable right to decide their destiny, on the path serving best their interests, to the full use of their own resources – free from the foreign interference that opposes the exertion of their own sovereignty.”

  ‘Valéry Giscard d’Estaing: “France is glad to receive the Head of State who has had an important role in the policy of rapprochement and co-operation between the two parts of Europe.”