Red Star

by Loren R. Graham

  “I maintain that the alliance between the engineer’s dictatorship and the socialism of the workers can only be directed against democracy, against the Republic, and that it cannot have any other purpose.”

  The article concluded with a fervent appeal to Parliament, the government, and all true republicans for immediate action to counter the impending danger. Otherwise there would be no escaping it. The warning was published a few days before the beginning of the regular session of Parliament. As always, the session was opened by a message from the President of the Republic. Besides the conventional official phrases and a list of bills contemplated by the government, this time it contained something unexpected.

  “. . . Although,” it said, “the shock experienced not so very long ago by the Republic ended in victory for the healthy elements of society and although order has now been restored in accordance with the popular will, the crisis has left traces which have not yet entirely disappeared. During these past two years the sword of justice has tirelessly struck out at those who have violated the interests of the State, and extensive confiscations have repaired most of the damage done by them. We believe it appropriate to submit to Parliament the question of whether the conscience of society and the interests of the State have not received sufficient satisfaction; we must ask whether there is not an urgent need for complete tranquillity and the definitive restoration of the social peace that was temporarily disturbed. If Parliament considers that such is the case, then the time has come to forgive and forget. . . .”

  Reservations followed to the effect that the President and the administration had not committed themselves to any predetermined program in this matter, that the sole right to analyze the situation belonged to Parliament, and so on, but in fact the document was proposing an amnesty and the suspension of confiscations.

  This was the first blow aimed at Menni by official political circles, and it was a very heavy one. Netti was in the capital at the time on business which happened to concern an investigation prompted by the uncovering of new and significant facts. Menni, who had already become accustomed not to undertake anything important until he had conferred with his son, urgently recalled him.

  They quickly drew up a plan of action. Menni would reply to the President’s message in a written report to Parliament on the course of the investigations and trials connected with the Great Project. Netti provided figures from which it became apparent that less than half of the plunder had been recovered, and he also contributed a number of very important disclosures. The new facts unearthed by Netti and the other inspectors concerned not so much old crimes as subsequent attempts on the part of the criminals to keep their positions and their booty. Forgeries had been perpetrated in order to protect fortunes from confiscation: powerful financial bosses suddenly turned out to be paupers. Millions had been given to bribe investigative and judicial authorities to destroy important incriminating documents. The bribing of witnesses was still more common, and certain uncooperative persons had even been murdered. All in all, the report was bound to spoil the conciliatory mood of Parliament and delay the amnesty considerably. Only a few months remained until Menni’s release, so it was of the essence to play for time.

  Menni was unable to reply to Teo’s attack (which in the meanwhile had been seized upon and supported by several large newspapers), for it would have ill befitted him to plead his innocence of such charges. The large unions in the capital, however, had already retorted with indignant declarations, and Netti was certain that the provincial organizations, especially the Project Federation, would voice similar reactions. The workers protested against the fact that the democratic party, on the pretext that the Republic was threatened by an impossible monarcho-proletarian conspiracy, was in effect attacking the nascent political unification of the proletariat. They argued that any “defense” of their interests by the official democrats had been inadequate and unsuccessful. “Did they save the working class from the oppressive dictatorship of the Council of Syndicates?” asked the Centropolis Federation of Mechanics. “No, in fact it was the other way round. And in the early days was it not above all the blood of the workers that paid for the founding of the Republic? So forget all these fables about conspiracies against the Republic, stop this pointless indignation over our distrust of your party, and reconcile yourselves to the fact that in the future we will defend our own political interests and perhaps even yours, should the two happen to coincide.”

  Netti concluded that the time was more propitious than ever for establishing a political federation of unions in the form of a regular workers’ party. He resolved to throw all his energy into this project, and he was certain that his brother socialists would support him. The conflict, of course, was thereby inevitably aggravated, but the balance of forces had also altered considerably.

  As Menni listened to these plans he caught himself involuntarily sympathizing with them. This disturbed his ideological conscience and evoked in him a vague sense of distrust of himself. Feeling compelled to justify himself in his own eyes he said:

  “I do not at all share the basic ideas of the program you have drafted for your new party. However, I have always thought that the workers are free citizens and can unite in unions or parties as they see fit. If they choose to do so, it means that they have their reasons. I have refused to accept the demands of the unions, but I have never opposed their right to exist. I do not know what your party will bring in the future; at the moment I cannot deny that you need it. Perhaps it will serve as the threat that will halt the evident degeneration of the old parties. If it does that, I am prepared to sympathize with it.”

  5. The Legend of the Vampires

  Their discussion of business matters being concluded, Menni turned to the thing that had particularly amazed and disturbed him about the latest events.

  “I must admit that I am quite unable to understand the treachery of such persons as the President and Teo. I know them both, and they are incorruptible. Still . . . Do you think they are sincere?”

  “I am sure they are,” replied Netti. “Look at their arguments. Are they not based for the most part on what they have always maintained? Teo is a zealous defender of democracy and the Republic, while the President emphasizes social peace.”

  “You don’t mean to say that they have remained true to themselves?”

  “No, of course not. I am not saying that. The patterns are the same, but their relationship to life has become the opposite of what it was before. Recall what Teo once wrote apropos of insinuations by the moderate press about your ‘dictatorship.’ Democracy, he said, is too strong to be frightened by such specters. No matter how great the authority, if it is granted by the popular will and is subject to continuous review, there is nothing dictatorial about it. Under such conditions, the strength of the power determined by democracy merely reflects the strength of democracy itself: it selects the means best suited to ensure the common good, and it must not be restricted in that choice. In the present case, Teo added, the hostility of the enemies of democracy was in itself proof that the correct path had been chosen. At that time Teo was full of daring and summoned the people forward to new conquests. Today he is full of fright and calls for the preservation of the status quo. As for our President, in his famous book he wrote: ‘The workers’ legitimate demands must be met; by doing so we can put a stop to the growing enmity among classes. If we encounter unreasonably stubborn resistance on the part of those who without any effort or merit of their own have been blessed with everything and refuse to give anything to others, then we must not retreat in the face of a violent struggle or hesitate to resort to vigorous measures; social peace is more important than the egoism of the privileged.’ And now in his message to Parliament he is proposing, also in the interests of social peace, to make concessions to these same privileged elements.”

  “That is correct,” said Menni. “You have a very accurate memory. But how can you speak of sincerity in a case where opposite conclusions are drawn from th
e same premises? Is this not outright proof of hypocrisy?”

  “No, it is not,” replied Netti. “Formerly they reasoned with the logic of living people. They wanted life to move ahead and improve, and this led them to their earlier conclusions. Today, however, theirs is the logic of dead men. They want peace and immobility, they want life around them to come to a standstill. What has happened to them constantly happens to people and to entire classes, to ideas and to institutions: they have quite simply died and become vampires.”

  “Heaven alone knows what you are talking about,” Menni exclaimed in amazement. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  Netti laughed.

  “Are you familiar with the popular legend of the vampires?” he asked instead of answering.

  “Of course. It is an absurd fairy tale about corpses who rise from their graves in order to drink the blood of the living.”

  “Taken literally it is indeed an absurd fairy tale. But the means by which folk poetry expresses the truth differ from those of the exact sciences. In fact, the legend of the vampires embodies one of the most profound, though also one of the most dismal, truths about life and death. Dead life exists—history is full of it, it surrounds us on all sides and drinks the blood of living life.”

  “I am aware that your workers often call the capitalists vampires, but such language, after all, is merely abuse or at the very most agitational rhetoric.”

  “That is not at all what I mean. Imagine a man who works in any given field of labor or thought. He lives for himself as a physiological organism and lives for society in his professional capacity. He pours his energy into the common stream of life, strengthening it and contributing to the conquest of that which is hostile to it. At the same time he doubtless costs society something, lives on the labor of others, subtracts something from the life around him. But as long as he gives more than he takes, he increases the sum of life, and he is a plus, a positive quantity. Sometimes he remains such a plus right up until his physical death. His hands have grown weak, but his brain still functions well; the old man thinks, teaches, educates others, and communicates his experience to them. Later his brain may tire and his memory fade, but his heart continues to throb with tenderness and sympathy for young life, and this very purity and nobility contribute to life an invigorating harmony and spirit of unity.

  “This happens very seldom, however. Much more often a man who lives too long sooner or later outlives himself. The time comes when he begins to take from life more than he gives it, and then his existence diminishes its total sum. Hostility arises between them: life rejects him, while he sinks his fangs into it and tries to turn it back to the past, to the time when he still sensed his bond with it. He is not only a parasite but an active enemy of life. He drinks its vital juices in order to live and tries in this way to prevent it from living and continuing its movement forward. He is not really a man, because the human and socially creative being in him has already died. He is but the body of such a being. An ordinary, physical corpse is also harmful—it must be removed and destroyed lest it contaminate the air and spread disease. But a vampire, a living corpse, is much more harmful and dangerous if he was a strong man during his lifetime.”

  “Is this how you regard the President and Teo?”

  “Yes, and in fact they illustrate something even worse: the corpses of people contain the corpses of ideas. Ideas die just like people, but they cling to life even more stubbornly after their death. Recall the idea of religious authority; it became obsolete and incapable of leading mankind forward any longer, but think of the centuries that it continued to struggle for supremacy, think of the blood and tears that were shed and the resources that were wasted before it was buried once and for all. As for democracy, I think that this idea has not yet accomplished all that it can, but if it is to remain viable it must change and develop together with society. In Teo’s case, however, it has stopped and stagnated in the past in which he actually lived. There was no workers’ party then. That party is the beginning of something that is new and alien to him, and he opposes it in the name of his dead idea. At one time the slogan of ‘social peace’ may have been of some use as a protest against the furious war of each against all and the ruthless egoism of the victors. Today, however, when the class struggle has acquired a new meaning and has become a vehicle of the great future, such a slogan has been hopelessly exhausted, drained of the last drop of life.”

  “How strange to regard people you know as vampires!” said Menni thoughtfully.

  “It is both strange and painful if you have thought of them earlier as noble and courageous fighters,” Netti added.

  Menni shook his head as if he were trying to rid himself of something.

  “I do not even notice myself how I am charmed by your poetic imagery,” he remarked with a smile. “But one more question. If I have understood you correctly, it is not only old people and other beings that can be vampires?”

  “Of course not,” said Netti. “According to popular superstition, stillborn children also become vampires. When entire social classes become obsolete the dead give birth to corpses. The same is true of the world of ideas. After all, religious sects, including some new ones, arise even today.”

  “Yes, and this may be the weakest point in your theory. How does one determine the moment when a living being has become a vampire?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is very difficult,” replied Netti. “The metamorphosis does not usually become apparent until much later, when the damage is obvious and the vampire has already drunk a great deal of blood. Teo, of course, did not suddenly become an enemy of the future during the past few days. Earlier I was tormented by the riddle of when this moment occurs. I was very young when I first penetrated the meaning of the legend. I was very sensitive then, so my conclusions were rather extreme. Sometimes I would think: here I am, I meet different people, live with them, trust them, even love them, but do I always know who they really are? Perhaps, unbeknown to us both, at this very moment the person with whom I am having a friendly chat is crossing the fateful boundary. Something is changing, something is being destroyed within him—just a minute ago he was alive, but now . . . And I would become almost terrified. My attitude, of course, was childish.”

  “No, not entirely childish, if your theory can be believed,” objected Menni. “And I am amazed how someone with your bright and joyous outlook on life could create such a gloomy fantasy.”

  “It was not I who created it, and it was history that suggested my interpretation to me,” Netti said with a smile. “Also, to me it is not only gloomy. As a child I was very fond of fairy tales about heroes who fought with terrible monsters.”

  “Did you dream of becoming such a hero yourself, a vampire killer? Well, I suppose your dream has come true, and I understand that now you have no reason to fear any corpses.”

  “They are enemies, and why should one be afraid of one’s enemies? Besides, sooner or later living life always triumphs over life that is dead.”

  6. The Vampire

  The battle continued, and Menni’s enemies fought with increasing ferocity. Much as it would have liked, however, the government was prevented from taking any effective measures against him by Netti’s strategy, which skillfully exploited newly uncovered facts relating to the bribery of state officials. On the basis of old documents belonging to Feli Rao, Netti was able to reconstruct what had happened with the fifty deputies who had suddenly become millionaires and supporters of Rao. It turned out that certain of them, including some of Menni’s bitter enemies, were still Members of Parliament. The parliamentary majority was paralyzed and unable to undertake any hostile actions for some time after this scandal. The government could inflict little more than pinpricks on Project Administration, harassing it with minor obstructions and nagging at it over trifles.

  Oddly enough, Menni took little interest in the whole struggle. He listened to the reports of Netti and his other colleagues, approved most of their actions and ideas,
and when occasionally necessary did what they advised. But it was obvious that his mind was almost constantly on something else. He became increasingly absentminded and even inconsistent in his relations to those around him, and he tried to cut his business meetings and discussions to a minimum, as if they greatly tired him. It seemed that his physical health, which had resisted the effects of prison life so many years, was also beginning to weaken now. His face often bore the marks of sleepless nights, and there was a feverish glitter in his eyes. Anyone who happened to mention this to him was crossly and coldly cut short.

  He did not permit himself the least rudeness with Netti, although at times he did seem to be trying to avoid him somewhat. Much more often, however, he treated him with unusually affectionate attention, almost tenderness. He did not really discuss controversial subjects with him, but sometimes he would suddenly ask a question apropos of some extreme point in Netti’s world-view, almost as if he were trying to measure the full extent of the disagreement between them. On such occasions he would then immediately change the subject. More than anything else he liked to ask him about his childhood, about everything that was directly or indirectly connected with Nella.

  Netti noticed all this and even told his mother about it; absorbed as he was by the struggle and his plans, however, he did not give the matter any particular thought, but rested content with the easiest explanation. He simply concluded that Menni’s behavior was due to the perfectly natural nervousness of a man who was approaching the day of his release after many long years in prison. Nella, whose heart was more sensitive, doubted that things were that simple, but she did not voice her fears for lack of any clear and definite conclusion. She had even thought of going to see Menni herself, but could not think of a proper excuse. In part she was held back by the memory of her conversation long before with Arri, who would attribute to her act a special significance that she found distasteful.