A War Not Won

A War Not Won

"Are you happy?" He has smiling eyes and a fatherly grin as he speaks these words.

"Of course I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be? I have everything I could ever want."

"I don't know. I've heard the people from across the way talking about how not all the workers are here voluntarily."

"Why would it not be voluntary? We work for you and in exchange we get fed and can live. What about that is not voluntary?"

"I don't know. Some people say that having to trade yourself, your time, your effort, your life for basic necessities that everyone needs is ... well ... coercive."

"How could it be coercive. It's the way that everything works. It's what everyone does. It's what we've been doing for years."

"Just because it's the way things have been doesn't mean it's the way things must be."

"It's been the way things have been for such a long time though. Since as far back as civilization started. People sold themselves. People did what they had to do to make money. People ate." The younger man bends down to tie his shoes, shoes that were once handsome but has with the passage of time become old and worn.

"How do we know that this system is really as old as we say it is? How do we know that it's as old as civilization?"

"Because, sir, everyone says it is. Everyone says that it's been around forever. If it has indeed been around forever then why should we be going against it now?"

"Is civilization really as old as people say it is? There was something before civilization. Something that might have been better."

"Before civilization? Are you trying to say it was better before civilization? Now who on earth would believe that? We were barbarians back then, clinging to the very edges of existence in a hostile and bloody world."

"How do you know that?"

"Because, sir, everyone says so. Everyone believes so. This is common knowledge. And this is knowledge that abides with common sense."

"But have you ever thought of what the world before civilization must have been like?"

"The world before civilization? I have no time to think about such trivial fantasies. I have a life to live."

"And do you enjoy your life?"

"Of course I do. What is there not to enjoy?"

"Well, your whole family, your community, everyone is relying on you to pull in income. That must be quite a weight on your shoulders. And the way I hear it, there is never quite enough to go around."

"There is never enough to go around. Never enough to get by comfortably. But we make it go around. We make it go around to everyone. And we stretch our resources so that even if we cannot live comfortably, even if we cannot live fully, we can get by. And that's enough." There is a thread of anger in his young voice. And a thread of sadness. A thread of passion. But these threads are hardly recognizable. He hides them well.

"But do you not feel some sense of regret, some sense of anger, at just getting by while others get by so comfortably, so luxuriously?"

"Why would I? I have to get along with everyone. I have to get along with society. I have to get along with the world. Bitterness and jealousy would not serve me. They would only make me resentful."

"But is it not natural to be bitter? Is it not natural to be resentful?"

"Perhaps it is to you, you who have always had a comfortable life and everything you could need. But my people are used to living like this. We are used to working hard."

"But do you not find yourselves working too hard? Do you not find yourself tired, weary, wanting to rest?"

"Rest? What for? People like me don't get rest. People like me are used to not having rest. People like me can get by without it."

"Have you ever wondered how life could be if things were different?"

"Have I wondered what? Of course not. What use would there be in wondering such things? Life is as life is. Life is as life has to be. You have to go to work and you have to work perfectly. You have to live up to their expectations. And at the end of the day you need to eat dinner with your people. And you have to be grateful that there is food in their mouths."

"You really love your people, do you not?"

The younger man pauses for a second, thinking.

"Why of course I love my people," he replies. "They are the reason for everything." There seems to be a note of sadness in his voice, and a note of tenderness. But these, as well, he hides away under layers of nonchalance.

"Then is the choice to see them hungry or to give away your life in order to not see them as hungry really a choice?"

"Of course it's a choice. Every choice is a give and take. Every choice is a careful consideration of consequences."

"Well then every choice is not really a free choice, but rather a form of blackmail."

"Nobody thinks of it that way."

"And your family. Do you not miss them, working all day and into the night, often in places far removed from your home?"

"Missing someone is part of loving them. Missing someone is part of life."

"But would it not be better if you were nearer to them? If you had more time with them?"

"I am used to the pattern of my life. I am used to the dislocation. I have to be. I have to do what I have to do. And missing people is just a part of life. It's just a part of life everyone has to accept."

"But if you had more choice as to how you would go about your day?"

"If I had more choice than that would be a gift. But the bigger gift is the food in my belly and the clothes on my back."

"But you have to sell yourself in order to get those things."

"So? Most people sell themselves. Is it really so bad?"

"But every day, there is such an imbalance of power. You go to work. And you have to do what they tell you. And you have to listen to orders. And you have to be meek and humble and submissive. And you have to make them happy however you can. Does that not hurt you?"

"Listening to orders and doing what they want is an integral part of any job."

"But does it not hurt you?"

"Does it hurt me? No. It doesn't."

"Why?"

"There are people who like following orders. There are people who like doing what other people tell them to do. There are people who enjoy being submissive, being obedient. And I just so happen to be one of those people."

"But if you could decide what to do yourself, what would you do?"

"I don't know what I would do. I guess I would feed my family. Like I'm already trying to do. Ultimately that is the goal."

"If your people were all fed, all clothed, all sheltered, then what would you do?"

"I have never thought of such an improbable, impossible circumstances and I don't think I should waste my time in thinking about it."

"But do you feel as though you are not equal? As though you are somehow beneath those with power?"

"Some people enjoy feeling as if they are not equal, as if they are subservient. Some people are perfectly alright with such a reality."

"But are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I have been doing this since I was a young teenager. Why should I stop now?"

"I'm not saying you should stop. I'm just saying ... maybe, perhaps, we all should stop."

"Stop doing what has been working perfectly alright for all this time? Why should we?"

"I don't know. But maybe we can."

"Those are just dreams and fantasies. Dreams and fantasies that will come to nothing. Dreams and fantasies that will never affect my life, or indeed the lives of anyone else."

"But dreams can come true, eventually."

"Dreams only come true for the middle class or higher. For people like me, for people like my people, dreams are only for sleeping and for keeping to yourself."

"Do you know of anyone who feels differently?"

"No there is not. There is no-one who wants to upset the social order and the way things are. We are all content with making our way in the world by doing whatever it is that we have to do to get by."

"Are you sure there isn't anyone? Would you know if there was somebody who thought in this way?"

"Of course I would know. Rumour travels fast. And such a strange rumour travels fast. And such a strange rumour would surely be famous, surely be notorious, within a matter of months."

"Maybe someone feels this way but hasn't told anyone."

"Why would they not? We all tell each other everything. We keep no secrets from each other. And we keep no secrets from your people as well. We never hide anything from the power."

"You never hide anything from the power?"

"No, of course not. That would be really rather shameful."

"But what about the things you think the powerful would not want to hear? What about the things you think would incite their wrath against your people?"

"Why should we fear them? We must be grateful to them. They have, after all, provided for us so much. They feed us and clothe us and give us homes."

"Yes, but, do you not keep things from them?"

"Keep things? But whyever should I do that? They are very intelligent and wise, much wiser than we are. And we need to give them whatever information we have, so that they can make better choices and serve us better."

"But doesn't that seem a little skewed to you? Do you not want to make your own decisions?"

"Our own decisions? But how can we? We are uneducated and stupid. We do not know the ways of the world."

"So you are alright doing what they tell you to?"

"Of course I am. I have to be."

"But are you happy?"

"Happy? What an absurd question is that? There are things more important than happiness in this world."

"Alright then. I guess someone has been feeding me the false information."

The older man turns to leave. And the younger man stands there, for a long time, in his worn-out shoes. He looks up to the sky, and there are tears in his eyes. For a long time he stands like that under the darkening twilight.

"God," he says, in a small, raspy voice, "I know that we have to lie in order to keep our people safe. But I hate lying. I hate it."

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