War With the Newts

by Karel Čapek

  The history of the Newts is thus characterised from the very outset by its perfect and rational organisation; the principal but not exclusive credit for this must go to the Salamander Syndicate; it should, however, be acknowledged that science, philanthropic endeavour, enlightenment, the press and other factors also played a considerable part in the spectacular spread and progress of the Newts. That said, it was the Salamander Syndicate which, so to speak, daily conquered new continents and new shores for the Newts, even though it had to overcome many an obstacle to that expansion.4 The Syndicate’s quarterly reports show how Indian and Chinese harbours are, one after the other, being settled by the Newts; how Newt colonisation is swamping the coast of Africa and leaping across to the American continent, where new, super-modern Newt incubators are fast springing up in the Gulf of Mexico; and how, alongside these vast waves of colonisation, smaller groups of Newts are sent out as pioneering vanguards of future exports. Thus the Salamander Syndicate made a present of 1,000 top-quality Newts to the Dutch Waterstaat; it presented the city of Marseilles with 600 Newts for clearing out the Old Port, and similarly elsewhere. In short, unlike human colonisation of the globe, the spread of the Newts proceeded in accordance with a plan and on a generous scale; had it been left to nature it would have dragged on over hundreds and thousands of years. Say what you will, but nature is not, and never has been, as enterprising and purposeful as human production and commerce. It seems that the lively demand for Newts has even had an effect on their fertility; the spawn yield per female has risen to as much as 150 tadpoles per annum. Certain regular losses which sharks used to cause to the Newts ceased almost totally once the Newts had been equipped with underwater pistols and dum-dum ammunition for defence against predatory fish.5

  Needless to say, the spread of the Newts did not take place equally smoothly everywhere; in some places conservative circles strongly objected to this introduction of a new workforce on the grounds that it represented unfair competition with human labour;6 others expressed the anxiety that the Newts, feeding as they did on small marine organisms, would prove a threat to fisheries; others yet argued that with their submarine burrows and passages they were undermining coastlines and islands. To be perfectly honest, there were quite a few people who uttered outspoken warnings against the introduction of the Newts; but then this has happened from time immemorial - every innovation and every step forward have met with opposition and mistrust; this was so with machinery in the factories and this was now being repeated in the case of the Newts. In other places there were misunderstandings of a different kind,7 but thanks to full support from the international press, which correctly assessed the enormous business potential of the Newts, and especially the profitable and extensive advertising that went hand in hand with it, the arrival of the salamanders in all parts of the world was widely welcomed with lively interest and indeed enthusiasm.8

  The Newt trade was for the most part in the hands of the Salamander Syndicate, which conducted it by means of its own specially constructed tank ships; the centre of that trade and, in a manner of speaking, the Newt Exchange was the Salamander Building in Singapore.

  Cf. the extensive and objective account which appeared on 5 October over the initials E. W.:

  S-TRADE

  ‘Singapore, 4 October. Leading 63. Heavy 317. Team 648. Odd Jobs 26-35. Trash 0.08. Spawn 80-132.’

  This is the kind of report the reader will find in his newspaper every day in the business columns among the dispatches on commodity prices, such as cotton, tin or wheat. But do you in fact know what these mysterious figures and words mean? All right, the Salamander Trade or S-Trade - but how many readers have any clear idea of what that trade really looks like? They probably imagine some big market place swarming with thousands and thousands of Newts, with buyers in topees and turbans strolling about, inspecting the merchandise on offer and finally pointing a finger at some well-developed healthy young salamander and saying: ‘I’ll take this one; how much is it?’

  In reality the salamander market looks quite different. In that marble building of the S-Trade in Singapore you will find not a single Newt but only busy smartly dressed clerks in white suits, accepting orders by telephone. ‘Yes sir. Leading stands at 63. How many? 200? Very good, sir. Twenty Heavy and 180 Team. OK, understood. The ship sails in five weeks. Right? Thank you, sir.’ The entire palatial S-Trade building is aloud with telephone conversations; the impression is that of a government office or a bank rather than of a market. And yet that noble white building with its Ionian-colonnade façade is more of a world market than the bazaar in Baghdad at the time of Haroun al-Rashid.

  But to return to the market quotation at the top of this article and to its business jargon. Leading are quite simply specially selected intelligent Newts, as a rule three years old and carefully trained to be leaders and supervisors of Newt work teams. These are sold individually, regardless of body weight; it is their intelligence that counts. Singapore Leading, with a good command of English, are considered top quality and most reliable; occasionally other grades of leading Newts are also marketed, such as the so-called Capitanos, Engineers, Malayan Chiefs, Foremanders, etc., but Leading are priced highest. Currently they will fetch around sixty dollars apiece.

  Heavy means ordinary heavy, athletically built Newts, as a rule two years old, with a weight ranging from 100 to 120 pounds. These are sold only in gangs, or ‘bodies’, of six. They are trained to perform the heaviest kind of physical work, such as breaking rocks, rolling away boulders and suchlike. If the above quotation says ‘Heavy 317’ this means that a six-specimen gang or ‘body’ costs 317 dollars. Each body of Heavy Newts normally has one Leading Newt as its foreman and supervisor.

  Team are ordinary working Newts weighing from eighty to 100 pounds. These are sold only in work teams of twenty; they are intended for collective work and find their best employment in dredging and in the construction of banks, dams, etc. Each team of twenty requires one Leading.

  Odd Jobs represent a category of their own. These are Newts which for some reason or other have not undergone either collective or specialised training, for instance because they have grown up away from the big, properly managed Newt farms. They are in effect semi-wild Newts, but are often very gifted. They are marketed individually or by the dozen and employed on various auxiliary jobs or lesser projects which do not warrant the use of entire Newt gangs or teams. If Leading represent the elite among the Newts, Odd Jobs are something like the lower proletariat. Lately they have become popular as Newt raw material to be further developed by individual entrepreneurs and then classified into Leading, Heavy, Team or Trash.

  Trash or rubbish (refuse, crap) are inferior, weak or physically deficient Newts. These are not marketed individually or in definite quantities but collectively by weight, usually by entire tens of tons; one kilogramme live weight currently costs from seven to ten cents. It is not really clear what purpose they serve or why they are purchased - possibly for some less demanding work in the water. To avoid any misconceptions, readers are reminded that Newts are not fit for human consumption. This Trash is almost entirely bought up by Chinese dealers; where they are shipped has never been established.

  Spawn is quite simply Newt fry or, more accurately, tadpoles up to one year old. These are bought and sold by the hundred; trade in them is very lively, mainly because they are cheap and their transportation is least costly. Only when they have reached their destination are they nurtured and trained until fit for work. Spawn is shipped in barrels because the tadpoles do not leave the water, unlike the grown Newts which have to emerge every day. It often happens that exceptionally gifted individuals develop from Spawn, even surpassing the standard Leading type; this lends transactions in Spawn a particular interest. Highly talented Newts are then sold for several hundred dollars apiece; the American millionaire Denicker has actually paid 2,000 dollars for a Newt that was fluent in nine languages, and had it transported to Miami by special boat; that transport alone cost nearly
20,000 dollars. Purchase of Spawn has lately become popular for so-called Newt stables, where fast sporting Newts are selected and trained; these are then harnessed in teams of three to flat-bottomed boats shaped like a shell. Newt-shell racing is now the vogue in America and the favourite pastime of American youngsters at Palm Beach, in Honolulu or in Cuba; they are called ‘Triton races’ or ‘Venus regattas’. In a light, prettily decorated shell, skimming over the sea’s surface, stand the girl racers in the scantiest possible and most charming swimming attire, holding the silken reins of their salamandric three-in-hand, competing for the title of Venus. Mr J. S. Tincker, known as the Tinned Food King, bought his daughter a team of three racing Newts, Poseidon, Hengist and King Edward, for no less than 36,000 dollars. But this is really outside the scope of the S-Trade proper, which is concerned only with the worldwide supply of reliable working Leadings, Heavies and Teams.

  We have mentioned Newt Farms. The reader would be wrong to visualise vast livestock buildings or pens. They are in fact several kilometres of empty foreshore with just a few corrugated-iron huts scattered about. One of these is for the veterinary surgeon, another for the manager, and the rest are for the supervisory staff. It is only at low tide that the long dams running out from the shore to the sea are visible, subdividing the coastline into several basins. One is for the small fry, another for the Leading category, and so on; each type is fed and trained separately. Both these activities take place at night. At dusk the Newts emerge from their burrows under the shore and assemble round their instructors; as a rule these are retired servicemen. First there is a speaking lesson; the instructor says a word to the Newts, for instance ‘dig’, and demonstrates its meaning to them. He then arranges them into columns of four and teaches them to march; next follows half an hour’s physical training and a brief rest in the water. After the break comes instruction in the handling of various tools and weapons, followed by three hours’ practical work on hydro-engineering jobs under the supervision of the instructors. Thereafter the Newts return to the water where they are fed Newt biscuits consisting mainly of maize flour and suet; Leading and Heavy Newts receive an additional ration of meat. Laziness or disobedience are punished by withdrawal of food; there are no other physical punishments; besides, the salamanders’ susceptibility to pain is slight. At sunrise a dead silence falls over the Newt farms; the staff go to bed and the Newts vanish below the sea’s surface.

  This drill is changed only on two occasions each year. Once at breeding time, when the Newts are left to their own devices for a fortnight, and once when the Salamander Syndicate’s tank ship calls at the farm with instructions to the farm manager on how many Newts of each category are to be recruited. This recruitment is done at night; a ship’s officer, the farm manager and the veterinary surgeon sit at a small table with a lamp on it, while the supervisors and the ship’s crew block the salamanders’ retreat to the water. One Newt after another steps up to the table and is pronounced fit or unfit for service. The recruited Newts then board the boats which take them out to the tank ship. Most of them volunteer to go, that is they go in response to a single sharp command; only occasionally is mild force needed, such as shackling. Spawn or fry, of course, are fished out by nets.

  Just as humane and hygienic is the actual transportation of the Newts in tank ships; the water in their tanks is changed by pumping every other day and they are most amply fed. The death-rate during transportation scarcely reaches 10 per cent. At the request of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals there is a chaplain on board every tank ship to ensure the salamanders are treated humanely; every night he delivers them a sermon which exhorts them in particular to show respect to humans and to show obedience and love to their future employers whose one desire is to exercise paternal care for their well-being. It is undoubtedly rather difficult to explain this paternal care to the Newts since the concept of paternity is unknown to them. Among the more highly educated salamanders the ship’s chaplain has earned for himself the title of ‘Papa Newt’. Educational films have also proved extremely successful: in these the Newts are acquainted with, on the one had, the miracles of human engineering and, on the other, their own future work and duties.

  There are people who translate the abbreviation S-Trade (for Salamander Trade) as ‘Slave Trade’. However, as unbiased observers we can only say that if the slave trade in the past had been as well organised and as hygienically practised as the present Newt trade, the slaves could have been congratulated. The more expensive salamanders are really treated very decently and considerately, if only because the ship’s captain and crew have to vouch with their own salaries and wages for the lives of the Newts in their charge. The writer of the present article personally witnessed how even the toughest sailors on board the tank ship SS 14 were deeply affected when two hundred and forty top-quality Newts in one of the tanks became ill with violent diarrhoea. They would go down to look at them, and with eyes almost filled with tears would give vent to their human sentiments in the rough words: ‘Why the hell do we have to have this stinking lot wished on us?’

  With the growing turnover in Newt exports there arose, naturally enough, also an irregular trade. The Salamander Syndicate could not possibly control and administer all the Newt incubators which the late Captain van Toch had set up all over the place, especially on the tiny remote islands of Micronesia, Melanesia and Polynesia, so that numerous bays were left to their own devices. The result was that, alongside the organised breeding of salamanders there developed - and on quite a considerable scale - the hunting of wild Newts, reminiscent in many respects of seal hunting expeditions in the past; this hunt was to some extent illegal, but in the absence of legislation on Newt hunting prosecution, at best, was for unauthorised encroachment of the sovereignty of this state or that. And since the Newts proliferated quite enormously on those islands and here and there caused damage to the natives’ fields and orchards, this irregular hunting of Newts was tacitly regarded as a natural regulation of the Newt population.

  We quote here an authentic contemporary account:

  BUCCANEERS OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY E. E. K.

  The time was eleven o’clock in the evening when our ship’s captain gave orders for the national flag to be hauled down and the boats to be lowered. It was a moonlit night with a silvery haze; the little island we were heading for was, I think, Gardner Island in the Phoenix Archipelago. On such moonlit nights the Newts come up the beach and dance; you can approach them closely and they will not hear you, so intent are they on their silent collective dance. There were twenty of us, stepping ashore with our oars in our hands and, strung out in single file, we began to encircle the dark crowd that was swarming on the beach in the milky light of the moon.

  It is difficult to describe the impression produced by that dance of the Newts. Perhaps 300 animals are sitting on their hindlegs in an absolutely perfect circle, facing inwards; the inside of the circle is empty. The Newts do not move, they seem quite rigid; the impression is that of a circular palisade surrounding some mysterious altar; but there is no altar and no deity. Suddenly one of the animals utters a smacking sound: ‘Ts-ts-ts-ts’ and starts swaying and twisting the upper half of its body; this fluctuating movement spreads further and further, and within seconds all the Newts are twisting their upper bodies without moving from the spot: faster and faster, soundlessly, more and more frenetically, in a mad and intoxicated swirling. After about a quarter of an hour one of the Newts will tire, then another, and a third; they are now swaying exhaustedly and stiffly; and now they are again all of them sitting motionless like statues; after a while a quiet ‘ts-ts-ts’ is heard from somewhere, another Newt starts writhing, and his dancing spreads rapidly to the entire circle. I realise that this account sounds rather mechanical: but add to it the chalky light of the moon and the regular slow murmur of the tide. There was something immensely magical and almost enchanted about the whole thing. I stopped with my throat gripped by an involuntary sense of terror or amazement
. ‘Get a move on, man,’ my neighbour snapped at me, ‘or you’ll make a gap!’

  We tightened our circle round the dancing animals. The men were holding their oars across and talking in low voices, more because it was night than for fear the Newts might hear them. ‘Move in now, at the double,’ called the commanding officer. We ran towards the writhing circle; with a dull thud the oars struck the Newts’ backs. It was only then that the Newts took fright, retreating towards the centre or trying to slip out between our oars to regain the sea; but blows from the oars threw them back, shrieking with pain and terror. We forced them back with our oars, towards the middle, crowded together, packed tightly, climbing over each other in several layers; ten men penned them in a palisade of oars and another ten prodded or beat those which tried to slip underneath the oars or break out. It was a mass of squirming, confusedly croaking black flesh, upon which dull thuds were falling. Then a gap opened between two oars; a Newt slipped through and was stunned by a blow on the back of its head; a second and a third followed, and a moment later some twenty were lying there. ‘Close it up,’ commanded the officer and the gap between the oars closed once more. Bully Beach and the halfbreed Dingo with each hand grabbed a leg of one of the stunned Newts and dragged them like lifeless sacks through the sand to the boats. Sometimes a dragged body would get caught between the stones; then the sailor would give a violent and vicious jerk and a leg would come off. ‘Never mind,’ muttered old Mike who was next to me. ‘He’ll soon grow another.’ As they were flinging the stunned Newts into the boats the officer said curtly: ‘Get the next lot ready.’ And again the blows fell on the necks of the Newts. That officer, Bellamy was his name, was an educated, quiet man and an excellent chess player; but this was a hunt, or more accurately a matter of business, so let’s have no fuss. In this way over two hundred stunned Newts were captured; about seventy were left behind, probably dead or not worth dragging away.