appearances.” Abrasha was annoyed. “You surprise me. More than anyone, you should know they don’t count. It’s what’s behind the appearances, right? Take them away—and what remains, tell me? Two people. Equal. We eat when we’re hungry, sleep when we’re tired; we laugh when we’re amused, right?”
“No,” I said, thinking of Kolvillàg.
“What do you mean, no! Without your beard you would be me; and I with your beard would be you.”
“No,” I said.
“All right. The beard is not enough. Add the clothes. And the upbringing. And the faith. All these may be acquired. You see? I could easily be you.”
“No,” I said. “You will never be me.”
He assumed that I was indulging in dialectics and took pleasure in beating me at my own game. Excitedly he began to use a vocabulary strange to my ears. From time to time I would catch a more or less familiar word, which then remained isolated and opaque without becoming integrated into a complete sentence or an intelligible idea. Meanwhile Abrasha spoke on and on with a fervor not unlike that of a Talmudic student grappling with a difficult text. I waited for him to calm down before I mentioned that I had understood nothing of his tirade.
“All right,” he said. He was not discouraged. “Let’s start all over. I am a communist …”
“What’s that?”
“A communist is someone who states that all peoples, all men form one big community. Do you agree with that principle? Let us continue. The communist declares that man owes it to himself to abolish evil and suffering, hunger and poverty, social injustice and war.”
“Your communist seems to take himself for the Messiah, right?”
“Why not? You want to know what communism is? Simple. It is messianism without God, just as Christianity is messianism without man.”
“Words,” I said. “You don’t make sense. A messianism without God is like bread without flour, dough without yeast,a body without life, a life without sunshine. If that is your most convincing argument …”
Nevertheless Abrasha, knowing human nature, intuitively found the right words to overcome my resistance: “You don’t understand, you can’t understand. You have lived as a recluse, preoccupied with your own salvation. And the others, what about their salvation? Those who cannot afford the luxury of a purely metaphysical struggle, those to whom a loaf of bread represents unattainable riches. Do you ever think of them? The farmers reeling under their debts, the overworked laborers, the starving children, do you happen to think about them sometimes?”
“That’s irrelevant,” I said.
“Oh, but no! Communism is precisely that: the theory of relevancy. It demonstrates that every phenomenon relates to all others and that—”
“A theory, another! I have no use for your theories! I don’t understand what they’re about!”
“You interrupt me, you listen badly and you demand that I explain to you what you don’t know. Do you think that is fair?”
“All right,” I said gruffly, “I am listening.”
But he knew better; I was in no way ready to listen. “You seem angry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to annoy you with my philosophical riddles. A simple definition should suffice: communism is a theory for some, a dream for others …”
A dream. Changing tactics, Abrasha described it to me with childlike simplicity. A society based on justice and predicated on work, with no overlords or servants, no criminals or executioners. No man would bow to any other; no man would experience shame or fear. Finished, poverty. Abolished, terror. Downwith the superstition of bigots. Long live liberty. Imagine a happy Isaiah. Imagine Jeremiah appeased. Imagine our prophets reconciled with the people and their God. That is the communist dream. Imagine our peasant brothers no longer forced to plow sixteen hours a day to make the local landowner richer. Imagine our poor less poor and less ignorant. Imagine our
“No,” I said, thinking of Kolvillàg.
“What do you mean, no! Without your beard you would be me; and I with your beard would be you.”
“No,” I said.
“All right. The beard is not enough. Add the clothes. And the upbringing. And the faith. All these may be acquired. You see? I could easily be you.”
“No,” I said. “You will never be me.”
He assumed that I was indulging in dialectics and took pleasure in beating me at my own game. Excitedly he began to use a vocabulary strange to my ears. From time to time I would catch a more or less familiar word, which then remained isolated and opaque without becoming integrated into a complete sentence or an intelligible idea. Meanwhile Abrasha spoke on and on with a fervor not unlike that of a Talmudic student grappling with a difficult text. I waited for him to calm down before I mentioned that I had understood nothing of his tirade.
“All right,” he said. He was not discouraged. “Let’s start all over. I am a communist …”
“What’s that?”
“A communist is someone who states that all peoples, all men form one big community. Do you agree with that principle? Let us continue. The communist declares that man owes it to himself to abolish evil and suffering, hunger and poverty, social injustice and war.”
“Your communist seems to take himself for the Messiah, right?”
“Why not? You want to know what communism is? Simple. It is messianism without God, just as Christianity is messianism without man.”
“Words,” I said. “You don’t make sense. A messianism without God is like bread without flour, dough without yeast,a body without life, a life without sunshine. If that is your most convincing argument …”
Nevertheless Abrasha, knowing human nature, intuitively found the right words to overcome my resistance: “You don’t understand, you can’t understand. You have lived as a recluse, preoccupied with your own salvation. And the others, what about their salvation? Those who cannot afford the luxury of a purely metaphysical struggle, those to whom a loaf of bread represents unattainable riches. Do you ever think of them? The farmers reeling under their debts, the overworked laborers, the starving children, do you happen to think about them sometimes?”
“That’s irrelevant,” I said.
“Oh, but no! Communism is precisely that: the theory of relevancy. It demonstrates that every phenomenon relates to all others and that—”
“A theory, another! I have no use for your theories! I don’t understand what they’re about!”
“You interrupt me, you listen badly and you demand that I explain to you what you don’t know. Do you think that is fair?”
“All right,” I said gruffly, “I am listening.”
But he knew better; I was in no way ready to listen. “You seem angry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to annoy you with my philosophical riddles. A simple definition should suffice: communism is a theory for some, a dream for others …”
A dream. Changing tactics, Abrasha described it to me with childlike simplicity. A society based on justice and predicated on work, with no overlords or servants, no criminals or executioners. No man would bow to any other; no man would experience shame or fear. Finished, poverty. Abolished, terror. Downwith the superstition of bigots. Long live liberty. Imagine a happy Isaiah. Imagine Jeremiah appeased. Imagine our prophets reconciled with the people and their God. That is the communist dream. Imagine our peasant brothers no longer forced to plow sixteen hours a day to make the local landowner richer. Imagine our poor less poor and less ignorant. Imagine our
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