Red Star

by Loren R. Graham

  Menni expressed no surprise whatever when the President of the Republic, the Prime Minister, and the Minister of Justice suddenly walked into his cell. He merely offered them his single chair with a touch of ironic hospitality and went himself to lean against the wall near the window. The President informed him officially that in view of newly discovered facts, the government intended to propose that the Supreme Tribunal review his case. Until the new verdict, Menni could be preliminarily released and rehabilitated. The government would like to know in advance whether he would be satisfied by such an arrangement and whether on these conditions he would agree to accept immediately the discharge of his former duties.

  “On these conditions, no,” replied Menni. “I will not accept preliminary release. If my case is reopened I will not participate in the trial, but will confine myself to the declaration that I consider the verdict of this court morally immaterial.”

  “But why?” exclaimed the Minister of Justice. “Why in heaven’s name do you insist on rejecting the honorable solutions being offered you? If this is a protest against injustice, it is your personal protest, but you yourself are doing an injustice to all of mankind! The workers demand and the general public desires your return. The cause needs you, and you reject everything! What is it you want?”

  Menni smiled and said:

  “You have not quite understood me. I refuse to accept judgment by the Supreme Tribunal because I consider its first verdict unjust. Consequently, from my point of view, all a second verdict proves is that the judges are willing to work the will of the government, which fact I have no reason to doubt. I want my case to be reviewed by another, a higher court—the Court of Humanity. If that appeal is to remain in full inviolable force, I must refuse to make any compromise whatever and decline any open or disguised pardon. That is why I shall remain here to the end of my term. But I am not refusing to work. I have been following the Project all these years, and I can lead it regardless of where I am, much as you ministers do most of your governing from your offices. I know that this will involve inconveniences and difficulties, but if you want me to take charge of the matter you will have to reconcile yourselves to them.”

  “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable the position of the government will be all this time?” said the Prime Minister bitterly.

  “Well, now, for over twelve years I have also been in a somewhat uncomfortable position,” retorted Menni.

  “We give up!” said the President.

  3. Father!

  The newspapers were dismayed for a while by Menni’s refusal to accept a review of his case, but public opinion finally calmed down, deciding that he was evidently an eccentric, which as a great man he had a right to be. Several scholarly articles were written on the kinship between genius and madness. These were read and quoted a great deal, and society came to the conclusion that it had done all it could and had no reason to reproach itself. The “great man” looked upon all this with great indifference and threw all his energy into reorganizing the Great Project.

  From among his former assistants he selected ten experienced and reliable people whom he dispatched as inspectors to the construction sites. They were empowered to dismiss dishonest officials of any rank, terminate disadvantageous contracts, discuss the workers’ demands, and restore former labor conditions and work routines. Each inspector was instructed to pick his own assistants and take them with him, so that when necessary he could appoint them to fill the places of dismissed high-ranking executives. The inspectors plunged enthusiastically into their task and proved both incorruptible and merciless. The newspapers of the “liberals”—formerly Feli Rao’s party—dubbed them “Duke Menni’s Butchers.”

  The inspection and reform of the Central Project Administration was a particularly vital but also very difficult task. Menni had at first intended to take charge of it personally, but it soon became evident that being in prison presented considerable obstacles. The matter was of the utmost urgency, however, so Menni wrote a letter requesting the author of the exposé to come and see him. When Netti appeared, Menni invited him to be seated and asked him point-blank:

  “Are you a socialist?”

  “Yes,” replied Netti.

  Menni looked at him attentively; he was favorably impressed by the young man’s clear, radiant eyes, candid face, high, intelligent forehead, and strong and well-proportioned figure. Menni shrugged his shoulders and, as he had taken to doing since coming to prison, murmured to himself:

  “On the other hand the great Xarma was also a socialist.”

  He noticed his own involuntary bluntness, laughed, and said out loud:

  “Actually, that is none of my business. If possible, I would like to know how you collected the proof for your exposures.”

  Netti briefly told him about the various connections he had exploited and the devices, some of them risky and not altogether legal, that he had employed to gain access to the documents; he also mentioned the cooperation of the workers and their organizations. Menni listened with interest and questioned him on details. Several times Netti happened to touch on important technical problems, and Menni was amazed at the enormous professional competence of his young visitor. He was especially impressed by Netti’s profound and lucid understanding of the main ideas in all the basic plans of the Project system. Gradually their conversation shifted entirely to this topic.

  Netti boldly proposed a number of radical changes in the previously published plans. Menni had to admit that he had already introduced certain of these changes into his latest revision and that the others at least merited consideration. Menni’s eyes shone; it was difficult for him to conceal his pleasure at finding more than he had expected.

  “I suppose that you have other materials besides those which you included in your book?”

  “Yes,” answered Netti, “I have a great deal more—everything which seemed suspicious and probable but could not be proved conclusively. If you wish I will put all these materials at your disposal.”

  “Very well,” said Menni. “Now, would you be interested in taking charge of the inspection of the Central Project Administration under my immediate supervision?”

  Thus began Netti’s administrative career.

  It was a colossal task. Twelve years of activity had to be investigated, hundreds of witnesses had to be questioned, and the suspects were both experienced and crafty. The job was made considerably easier, however, by the enthusiastic support of the lower-level employees. Netti’s unswerving opposition to all attempts by the bosses to make scapegoats out of them quickly gained him their confidence. Thanks to these allies the business proceeded fairly rapidly. From time to time Netti would visit Menni and give him a report. They would hold a short conference in a large prison cell furnished with several chairs and shelves filled with books and papers. The two men understood each other intuitively, and in the space of a few minutes they had done their summing up and made the crucial decisions.

  On one occasion Netti presented a detailed report on the “labor policy” of the Central Administration. Besides the means by which wages were embezzled, it described certain secret circulars addressed to local supervisors instructing them to offset the growing power of the unions by “tightening discipline so as to provoke the workers into overt action that would legally justify forceful countermeasures.”

  As Netti spoke his profound repressed indignation changed him entirely: his voice became muffled, the expression on his face became severe, his eyes darkened, and a deep crease appeared between his brows. An outside observer would have been struck by his resemblance to Menni. When Netti had finished, Menni, who had been pacing from corner to corner, suddenly said:

  “Strange! You remind me very much of someone. But who? Perhaps I have met your parents?”

  “I don’t think so . . . Anyway, I have never known my father personally, and no one has even wanted to tell me who he was. He was a rich man in a high position. He abandoned my mother, not even suspecting that I existed.
She is a simple working woman from Libya. Her name is Nella.”

  “Nella!”

  The name escaped Menni’s lips like a moan. He blanched and leaned against the wall. Netti quickly asked him:

  “Do you know her?”

  “I am your father, Netti!”

  “My father?”

  There was only cold amazement in the word. The face of the young man became grim. Menni clutched at his chest. For a moment they were silent.

  “Father . . .”

  This time his voice betrayed a certain pensiveness, an effort to understand something. Netti’s expression became softer and calmer.

  “I don’t know what to think of this. I shall ask my mother,” he said slowly.

  “I don’t know what Nella will tell you, but I can tell you this much. When we parted she did not utter a single word of reproach. And when I was sentenced there was only one voice that protested, and that was her voice, Netti.”

  Netti’s gaze cleared at once.

  “That is true. I was there.”

  The young man sank into thought for another minute. Then he raised his head and took a step toward Menni.

  “I know what Mama will say.”

  He offered Menni his hand, and now there was reserved affection in his voice as he repeated the word:

  “Father!”

  PART III

  1. Two Kinds of Logic

  The discovery of their kinship did not result in any externally observable intimacy between the two engineers. Menni was reticent by nature, and his long isolation had increased his outward coldness. Netti was reserved with him out of caution. In the presence of outsiders with whom they had occasion to work they maintained their former relationship of superior and subordinate. The new element of mutual interest and solicitude that had arisen between them was evident to them alone. Their conversations became longer, although they were just as businesslike as before. For a long time both men endeavored to avoid topics on which they sensed they had radically different views.

  Their work progressed well. The reform of the Central Administration, now once again simply a bureau for the collection and further dissemination of information, had already come so far that Netti’s services were no longer needed. More important, the task had ceased to represent any challenge to his knowledge and talents. Menni wanted him to begin working as the special agent of the Chief Inspector, in which capacity he would be in charge of on-the-spot checks at the various work sites, but there were a number of points that had to be negotiated first. They had no trouble coming to an agreement on technical and even administrative and financial questions, but labor conditions proved to be an entirely different matter.

  “I assume,” said Menni, “that you will want to introduce a number of improvements. I have no objections on principle and will probably agree to many of them, since experience has shown that both the vigor and the quality of labor are enhanced to a certain extent by better wages and a shorter working day. There is one preliminary condition I insist my representative accept, however: that he not be involved in official negotiations on such subjects with the labor unions.”

  “I cannot agree to that,” Netti answered calmly.

  Menni frowned.

  “I do not quite understand you. You sympathize with the unions, and that is your self-evident right. One of their goals is to improve labor conditions, and now you would be in a position to help them a great deal. However, you hold an official post and are bound by certain instructions. You do not have to have the unions to tell you what the workers want and need. There is no reason why you yourself or anyone else should reproach you for avoiding violations of discipline in pursuing your goal. After all, we have no formal obligations whatsoever toward the unions.”

  “‘Obligation’ is an entirely inappropriate word where convictions are concerned,” said Netti. “I am a socialist and a follower of Xarma. In his opinion, and mine, the workers’ organizations are the only true representatives of the working class. I not only sympathize with them, I belong to them, and to disavow them, even for the sake of ‘discipline,’ is quite unthinkable.”

  “What you are saying seems strange to me. In all of our professional discussions I have become accustomed to your perfect, precise, stringent logic. Now it somehow appears to have failed you. You recognize the unions as the legitimate and even exclusive representatives of the workers. But it is patently obvious that this is not so. Looking at it concretely, the unions have only a minority—not the majority—of workers. And it is not the unions but rather the individual workers who formally conclude labor contracts. So why should the unions be granted the privilege of representing the workers? That would be like giving the vote to a minority in a country but making everyone bear full civic duties. Do you mean to say that you would recognize such a minority as the only legitimate representative of the people? Aren’t you socialists democrats?”

  “I could agree with you if the working class, like the modern state as reflected in its laws, were an adventitious, heterogeneous conglomerate of people who have nothing to do with each other. But the proletariat is not at all like that. What is the essence and basis of the worker’s life? It is his labor, is it not? And does he in his labor exist separately, by himself? Not in the least. Removed from the great collective of millions of working people and from the chain of generations he immediately becomes a nonentity. The very purpose of his labor and his manpower also disappear. The goals which man is now pursuing presuppose cooperation on a gigantic scale. Building a railroad, a canal, a machine, manufacturing great quantities of yarn or cloth, or mining mountains of coal—what would be the sense in all this if everything were only a matter of the individual worker in isolation from all the others with whom he accomplishes such colossal tasks, in isolation from all those for whom they are accomplished? And what is his manpower worth without the tools, technical knowledge, and vital resources which support it? The tools are made by the hands of other workers; this is labor they have performed in the past which now enters into and increases enormously the might of the living stream of labor of the present. Knowledge has been accumulated by the lives of preceding generations; it is their labor experience which has now become a fundamental and necessary tool of any work. Food, clothes, and housing are created for the worker by others like him whom he does not even know. Take all this away and what is left of him? As a worker he exists and is real only when he is united in labor with countless human individuals of present and past generations.”

  “Very well. The division of labor and the exchange of services are real and important things. But, as facts show, they are quite possible without any workers’ organizations. What logic has led you to your conclusion?”

  “The logic of distinguishing the conscious from the unconscious. Do you think that the name ‘man’ in the true sense of the word should be given to a being who is unaware of himself, his relationship to others, and his place in nature? It is of no consequence that he looks like a man, for he still does not belong to humanity. Similarly, a worker who is unaware of his own essence as a worker, that is, who is not conscious of his indissoluble bond with those like him or of his place in the system of labor and in society is to my way of thinking not really a worker. If he understands or at least senses all this, then he will inevitably unite with other workers. If, on the other hand, he can and prefers to exist only for himself and live what he erroneously imagines to be a separate and independent life, then as an unconscious being he is not a member or a representative of his class, even if he and the likes of him constitute the overwhelming majority of workers.”

  “Isn’t this mere sophistry? The worker is united with others in labor. Fine. But it so happens that the workers’ organizations have nothing to do with that unity, which arises quite apart from them. The trade unions are mainly involved instead with terms of employment and lately also with politics. With regard to the labor contract and in his role of citizen, however, the worker is his own agent: he collects his wages
for himself personally, and he votes according to his personal convictions. Where is the logical connection between the unity of labor and the significance which you attribute to the unions?”

  “The connection is in the logic of life and in the logic of the consciousness that aspires to transform life into a harmonious whole. The unity of labor that is given to the workers from without and arranged for them by others is only a mechanical, unconscious unity, rather like that which joins together the parts of a complex machine. The discs and screws of a machine are not taken into account but merely counted. And such is the attitude of the ruling classes toward the worker; they are prepared to treat him fairly and according to the law as long as he lives for himself, because then he is powerless. A man’s strength depends on how consistent and faithful he is to himself and on the correspondence that exists between the various spheres of his life—his labor, his thoughts, his relationship to others.

  “If a worker stands united with his fellows in his labor but is divorced from them in his relationship to his employers, in his attitudes, or in his life-style generally, then he is not guided by any single principle, he is not conscious of reality. For he is quite mistaken in thinking that he is dealing with his employer only for himself or that he can make his own choice in politics. The labor conditions which he is offered and which he must accept depend entirely on such factors as the number of other workers competing with him, the standard to which they have become accustomed, their intelligence, and the vigor with which they struggle to protect their interests. The individual in isolation cannot understand politics, where the clash of collective forces gives rise to enormously complex relations. The worker who tries to do so apart from his fellows becomes the plaything of the agitation of the moment, of false promises, and of motives which are petty and often hostile to his own interests. He is not a conscious being, but simply material to be molded, a tool in the hands of others.”