Section Forty: The Kaminneson Declaration, Part Two

Although most of Grant’s words were beyond them, his comparison of men to wolves and tigers was enough for the crowd to grasp the general meaning, and they broke into laughter. The man who had asked the question turned red at once, fumbling for words as though he still wanted to say something, yet not daring to go on.

Grant said gravely, “They do indeed drive the world forward, but they also lead it toward the abyss, for they are the greediest and most shameless class in history. Give them a hundred percent profit, and they will take risks. Give them two hundred, and they will trample their own laws underfoot. Give them three hundred, and even the threat of death will not hold them back. They turn everyone else into parts of a money-making machine, but toward workers, toward the proletariat, toward those they employ, they are never merciful. They give only what is barely enough to keep body and soul together. To them, sex and age are nothing more than numbers, differing only as tools for making different sums of money. Even after wages are paid, another branch of that same class, landlords, shopkeepers, pawnbrokers, will lunge in savagely and seize the last coin from every hand with rents and food prices that rise far faster than wages. I am not crying wolf. Since you have been in Valencia, you may go to the factories yourselves and see the condition of the workers. You have spoken of its bright side; yes, it created wealth never before seen. But when something is scarce, it is precious. Once these things can be made easily, their endless hunger for wealth and their advancing steps will never stop. On the one hand, in order to secure greater profit, they will intensify their exploitation of us, squeezing out our labor and our value. On the other hand, when the market cannot satisfy them for the time being, they would rather pour surplus milk into the sea and slaughter every unsold sheep than give us even the smallest share.”

“Th-th-that cannot be possible,” the first questioner blurted out, dumbfounded. To him it was inconceivable, because in his mind the newly risen class in Valencia consisted of polite gentlemen, men full of compassion who often did charitable deeds. How could they possibly pour milk into the sea rather than let people drink it?

“Why not? That is exactly how our masters are,” someone finally could not bear it and came out to denounce this group of people who had studied in Valencia. “They would rather watch us starve to death than give us their surplus grain. The richer they are, the stingier they become.”

“That is different, utterly different. Mister Fahrenheit, and those others too, are gentlemen, true gentlemen and kind-hearted men,” the first questioner said, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

“There is nothing different about it,” Grant pointed out sharply. “They have every reason to do so. When the supply of milk and wool exceeds demand, fierce internal competition begins. It is their own competition, just as cruel as anything else. At such a time there are only two ways to restore balance: either cut the price, or reduce output. If they give the surplus milk to you, the price of milk will fall. But that means their profits will shrink, and most importantly, once a price falls, it is far harder to raise again. That would destroy their future profits as well, so they would rather pour it into the sea than give it to the poor.”

The first questioner was left speechless and withdrew. The group below him did not give up, however; they still muttered among themselves in low voices.

“Brother Grant, then what are we supposed to do?” someone asked.

Grant continued his speech. “A good question. What should we do? We must unite and resist this injustice. If we want to change this man-eating system once and for all, if we do not want to be exploited in still more violent and more naked ways, then we must break the old order, find the source of our exploitation, abolish private ownership, and make the land and the tools common property. There is no savior in this world; we can rely only on ourselves. Those who are here now, whether human or beastman, do not need a slave’s life. We are the gravediggers of the old world and the true agents of change. We can never allow others to drag the world from one abyss into another. The downfall of the bourgeoisie and the victory of Communism are inevitable.”

A fervent cry rose from below the platform. The people were blind; they did not fully understand what Grant was saying. Though he had done his best to simplify things, they had seen with their own eyes how the crowd that had longed for Valencia had been reduced to silence by his rebuttal, and this made them believe that Grant was the one in the right. Besides, he had just rescued the suffering Gaulish people; how could their benefactor be deceiving them?

“Arise, ye slaves, from hunger and from cold!” Grant suddenly sang out in a ringing voice.

The song was magnificent and majestic, immense in its force:

“Arise, all you who suffer, with blood already seething in your veins!
Fight for truth and for yourselves, and shatter the old world and its lies.
You who will no longer endure, do not say we have nothing at all;
We are the masters of tomorrow.
This is the final struggle, this is the twilight of the gods!
Unite, and Communism will surely come to pass!
This is the final struggle, unite, and Communism will surely come to pass!”

Moved by the song, more and more people joined in singing with Grant. The first questioners trembled, and from the music they felt an inexhaustible power. It was not divine art, yet it seemed even more terrifying than divine art. It was not magic, yet it was more miraculous than magic, because it stirred every heart.

“No savior ever came, nor do we rely on any kindly master;
To create our own happiness, we depend on ourselves alone!”

“We must win back the fruits of our labor and shatter the prison of the mind.
Let the fire burn higher and higher, let the voice grow louder and louder.
This is the final struggle, unite, and Communism will surely come to pass!
Sound the trumpet of ruin, this is the final struggle, unite, and Communism will surely come to pass!”

At last, unable to bear it any longer, the men who had been asking questions forced a way through the crowd and ran out. No one stopped them. People only looked after them with contempt, sending them off with song, condemning their cowardice and their naivety with song.

“Who will bury the old world? It is Communism!
Who will create the new world? It is Communism!
The world belongs to us all, so let the parasites get out at once.
The crimson sun will shine over all the earth.
This is the final struggle, unite, and Communism will surely come to pass.
This is the final struggle, unite, this is our declaration!”