Shikasta (51 page)

They had already been informed that there will be no military protection, no extra rations, no cooperation from the authorities.

I am informed that their preparations are everything that we could wish.

I was not able to be present myself in this amphitheatre for the Trial, for had I been there it would have underlined a concern on our part that I did not wish to be evident. But I had plentiful observers, both open – in our own delegation, who are of course keeping me informed – and concealed, who are distributed among the various delegations. It is from these many, and very varied reports, that I am compiling this account.

The five thousand delegates were a sorry lot compared with what until now has been the norm. We have become accustomed to seeing such occasions as demonstrating the comparative well-being of the Youth Armies. These were ill-fed, shabby, some in obviously bad health. The mood of confidence in themselves as a viable future is gone. They are sombre, cynical.

Getting there had been difficult for all of them, although I had given instructions – which I had no confidence would be observed – that they should not be obstructed. Many had walked long distances: this was true mostly of the Europeans.

Pilfering and looting began from the moment the delegates arrived, but was checked at once, by an appeal to their sense
of responsibility. But the damage had been done, and the local inhabitants, informed that they were being ‘honoured' by the occasion, must be imagined as a silent, sullen, closely observing crowd, always present around the camp, sometimes numbering hundreds.

The organizers had arranged guards, sentinels, everything needed for security, but this was precarious from the first and throughout, more from internal tensions than from external. It was arranged that the races should be distributed evenly through the camp, but almost at once the subject of the ‘Trial' showed its strength in separating the white race into a minority, a camp within a camp, separately sentinelled and guarded. From the start there were jokes, on the whole friendly, that the Chief Prosecutor was in fact white. From the very first day a song was popular among all sections, black, brown, gold, jade, and white: ‘I have an Indian grandmother,' which of course was plentifully adapted, ‘I have a white grandmother' being the favourite. There were occasions when the entire encampment was singing ‘I have a – grandmother' – white, black, brown, Irish, African, Eskimo, at the same time, at the top of their voices, and in the mood which was the style or stamp of the occasion: a mocking, sardonic nihilism, but which was not, in fact, devoid of good humour.

Who writes these songs? Where do they come from? The strength of the People is indeed great!

It was extremely hot. This was the key fact of the month, overriding everything. The large and commodious mess tents were partly in the shade of some ancient olive trees, but most of the tents were in the sun. The camp simmered and baked, day after day. Water was scarce. The sanitary arrangements were just adequate. By the end, this camp was an unsavoury place. If it had not been for some showers of rain the place would have been intolerable before the end of the first week.

I have spent several hours rereading the agents' reports, and this resulted in my reconsidering the event. There is something here that is puzzling. That these youngsters are
brilliant organizers is no news to any of us: indeed, we can benefit from learning from them. But this went beyond ordinary common sense and even good timing.

I remind you that this ‘Trial' seemed to begin with almost a joke – there was that quality in the first news of it. ‘The kids are deriding us again' – that sort of thing. It seemed in bad taste, not to mention pointless, considering the real and deep violence of the passion shown everywhere on racial issues. And then, from our reports, it became evident how seriously they were all taking it. Then there was the amount of preparation that went into it – the visit to Southern Africa, for instance, which was prepared for, and followed with interest, by the Youth of the world. And finally, the participation of the highest echelons of the Armies, and the presence, in the thick of everything, of George Sherban, who always seems to be around at key moments. Incidentally, he was recommended for removal but the orders were countermanded, in order to give him time to show his hand – and I believe he has done so.

To continue. Why Greece? Rumours were at first plentiful that the ‘Trial' was to be held in one of the bullrings in Spain, but it was given out, with more than adequate propaganda, that ‘this would prejudice the issue, bullrings are places of blood'. Without comment. The amphitheatres in Greece? For Europeans these elicit associations of civilization and culture. The old Greeks, not noticably in a peace-loving or particularly stable or democratic people – they were a slave-state, despised women, admired homosexuality – were revered by ‘the western tradition'. Without comment.

The amphitheatres are circular empty spaces, surrounded by tiers of circular stone seating, like benches. Uncovered. The climate is bitterly hot or cold. Has the climate then changed, or were the ancient Greeks impervious to cold and heat?

The ‘Trial' organization solved the problem this way. They turned day into night.

A session was scheduled every day at five in the afternoon, after the worst heat, until midnight. Then there was a meal of
salad, grains, bread. The ‘Trial' began again at four in the morning, and went on until eight. Bread and fruit were served. Between twelve and four, there was, every night, energetic discussion and debate-informal. To start with, the entire encampment was requested to sleep or rest from nine in the morning until four. But this proved impossible. The heat inside the tents was excessive, and there wasn't shade enough. Some tried to sleep in improvised shelters, or in the mess tents, but in fact very little sleep was had by anyone during the month.

It was
requested
that no alcohol be brought into the camp at all, because of the Moslems, and because of the difficulties of maintaining order. This was respected, at least at the beginning.

Permission had been refused by us for floodlighting, indeed, any supply of electricity. This led to some very interesting results. In fact, the extreme heat apart, it was clear that the lighting was the most important factor of the ‘Trial'.

The arena itself was lit by torches set at intervals around the periphery. These were of the usual impregnated compressed reeds. When the moon was strong, the arena was clearly visible anyway. Without the moon, the effect was patchy.

We must imagine the tiers of seats rising from the arena, moonlit or starlit, but without other illumination, and the groups of contenders below, lit by the moon, or inadequately by the torches. The scene made a strong impression on all my informants, and it is clear the night sessions of the ‘Trial' were the more emotional and hard to control because of the lighting.

All around the upper rim of the great amphitheatre were guards, changed at every sitting, and arranged so that no race would claim preferment. There was a double line of guards, one line facing in to watch the crowds on the seats, and one facing out, because of the villagers who came as close as they were allowed. As the month went by, these uninvited visitors became very many, causing increased problems of organization and of hygiene. They were nearly all elderly or very old,
or small children. All were in a poor condition from hardship. That the youth were in not much better a state seemed to mollify them, and permitted some fraternization.

I have never heard of, or experienced, any occasion which seemed to promise more opportunities for violence, riot, ill-feeling, and which in the event caused so little.

I now come to what the ‘spectators' – the wrong word for such impassioned participants – saw below them on that stage.

From the very beginning it was startling. The ‘Trial' was never anything less than
visually
challenging … surely not by chance?

The arena was not decorated in any way, no slogans, banners, pennants, on the ground of danger from fire. There were only the torches, thirty of them, each one with two attendants. These were from Benjamin Sherban's Junior Youth contingent, children of ten or so, equally boys and girls, and mostly, but not all, brown or black. The central stage, then, was ringed by children, all in responsible positions, for the torches had to be watched, and changed as they burned down, which happened every hour. Incidentally, torches which burn for three or four hours were readily available, but it was not these which were chosen. The children were in fact in control of an important aspect of the proceedings, and this set a certain tone from the moment the ‘spectators' took their places. The ‘youngsters', the ‘kids', the ‘inheritors' were being forced to reflect, every moment they sat there, that they were shortly to be set aside by the newest set of ‘inheritors'.

On either side of the arena was a small table and a dozen chairs. That was all. Tone, arrangements, atmosphere, were casual throughout.

On the prosecuting side was George Sherban, for the Dark Races. He has the ivory skin of a certain type of racial cross, but he is black-haired and black-eyed and could easily be an Indian or an Arab. But
visually,
white-skinned. With him, a changing group of every possible skin colour.

On the defending side, it was visually as provocative. The
whites
always
included a few brown and black people.

The attending groups on either side changed with each session, and during the sessions there was a continual movement from the arena to the tiers and back again. There is no doubt that this was a policy designed to emphasize the informality. The Defender John Brent-Oxford was the only old person present. As I suggested before, this could be interpreted as a deliberate attempt to weaken the white side. He was white-haired, frail, obviously unwell, and needed to sit down, whereas all the others stood or walked about. He was therefore unable to use tricks of self-presentation – the sudden gesture; or stopping, arrested by new thought, in the middle of a movement; or flinging back the arms with a chest presented to the hazards of fate – all the little calculations which, my dear friend, we know the effectiveness of so well.

He had nothing but his feeble presence, and his voice, which was not strong, but was at least steady and deliberate.

Throughout, and the point was of course lost on no one, he was attended by two of Benjamin Sherban's Children's Contingent, one white and one jet black, a Britisher from Liverpool in England. These, it was soon known, had a personal attachment to him, having been befriended by him when their parents died. He was, in short, in the position of foster-father.

Benjamin Sherban was nearly always stationed behind the old white's chair, in a posture of responsibility for the children. His position with the Children's Camps, which was well known to everyone, had its effect.

My informants were all without exception, struck by this disposition of the arena, that there was no clear-cut, unambiguous target for their indignation. I feel I must remark that my reports throughout this ‘Trial' were far from boring: I wish I could say this more often.

I come to what was
heard.
Now comes an interesting point. Whereas every other one of my recommendations was countermanded – troops, extra rations, standpipes for water, proper lighting – one was permitted. This was provision for loudspeakers. Yet loudspeakers were not used at all.

Why were loudspeakers permitted? Perhaps an oversight! It is not too much to say that a large part of the time of every administrator must be spent in wondering about the possible inner significance of events that are in fact due to nothing more than incompetence.

Why did the organizers not avail themselves of them?

The effects were negative, increasing tension and irritation. To sit on crowded stone seats from five in the afternoon till midnight, straining to hear; to sit crammed on hard gritty surfaces from four in the morning through the rising heat of dawn until eight, straining to hear 
–  
this was hardly calculated to alleviate the general hardship.

One of my agents, Tsi Kwang (granddaughter of one of the heroes of the Long March), sat high up on the rim of the amphitheatre in order to be able to observe everything. She reports that to begin with, when she realized she would have to strain to catch every syllable, she was angry. Murmurings and complaints filled the tiers of people. Shouts of: Where are the microphones? But these shouts were ignored, and it was left to these five thousand delegates to infer that 'The Authorities' (us, by implication, and on this occasion in fact) had not only refused extra rations and so forth, but also ‘even' microphones.

Tsi Kwang reports that at that height, ‘it was as if we were looking down at little puppets'. ‘It had a disturbing effect.' She felt ‘as if the importance of the occasion was being insulted'. (All of our agents were of course emotionally identified with the anti-white side, and were hoping that the Trial would show the whites up as total villains. Which of course it did up to a certain point. How could it not?)

With no microphones, only the unaided human voice, everything said on that small space far below (I am seeing it as I write through Tsi Kwang's eyes) had to be simple, because it had to be shouted. And this added to the challenge of the spectacle, for everything else was kept informal. Casual. (Except of course for the necessary guards.) But what was
said
had to be reduced almost to slogans or at least to simple statements or questions, for from halfway up the tiers no one
could have heard complex argument, legal niceties.

Everyone present – and all had come with their minds full of historical examples, memories of their own, or their parents' or their ancestors' experience of being oppressed, ill-treated – every person present had come burning with the need to hear
at last!
(as Agent Tsi Kwang put it)
the Truth.