The “Good Fellow”
by Plinio Corręa de Oliveira
(*)
A few
days ago I encountered a young man who eagerly shook my hand in recognition.
Did I say “young?” Perhaps I exaggerate, for he was about 35 years old. With a
pleasant face and an athletic build, he was quite popular in his circles, for
he was amusing and radiated optimism. In short, he is what is commonly called a
“good fellow.”
The two
of us sat alone in the waiting room of a doctor’s office with nothing in
particular to discuss when we both glanced at the newspaper lying on the table.
A bold headline announced Communist China’s admission to the United Nations and
the expulsion of
Our good
fellow smiled and glanced in my direction, expecting to see his satisfaction mirrored
in my countenance. I addressed him nonchalantly, “I gather that pleases you.”
His smile
broadened. “The blow dealt old Chiang Kai-shek was, perhaps, a bit strong, I’ll
admit, but I believe that everything will come out well in the end.”
When
asked why, he explained: “Until now, the Western world has dealt rather ineptly
with the Communist bloc. The Communists have a questionable philosophy and a
way of life that is not to my taste, for I was raised in a different ambience.
But whether you agree with them or not, that is simply the way they are — and
they do have the atomic bomb.
“We had
better learn to live together, lest we bring the bomb down on all our heads.
What we should have been doing from the beginning was persuading them to open
up by means of well-studied concessions. This would have helped them understand
that we are brothers, and among brothers everything can be worked out. Before
long, they would have been favorably disposed to sign a general agreement.”
I kept as
straight a face as possible, for I wanted to see just how far our naďve friend
was willing to go. In a conciliatory tone, I mused, “But the West also has the
atomic bomb. Why aren’t the Communists also afraid of us? Why aren’t they also
willing to make concessions? Negotiation should be a two-way street, don’t you
think?”
The good
fellow had a ready answer. “The Western world is civilized and rich,” he
explained, as though the two were synonymous. “The Communist world is barbaric
and poor,” he continued, forging another dubious link. “Barbarians don’t know
how to concede. Concessions must begin with our side — the civilized side. We
must make multiple and generous concessions. These great concessions will
produce a thaw in the Communist soul. That thaw, in turn, will lead to negotiations
and, ultimately, world peace,” he concluded triumphantly.
With
continued impartiality, I asked him, “But do you have any reason to believe
that these negotiations, bought at the price of so many great concessions, will
actually lead to something worthwhile? Isn’t it possible that these barbarians,
as you describe them, will ultimately demand the impossible?”
Our good
fellow had the answer on the tip of his tongue. “Dr. Plinio, we must trust in
the common sense and goodness of heart that all men possess. Without this
trust, our world would be a hell. It is more generous to believe that the
Communists will, ultimately, be moved by so many concessions. You seem to be
somewhat skeptical about the value of concessions, but everything in life is
negotiable and capable of compromise. Two parties can’t quarrel, after all, if
one party refuses to do so.”
From his
altered tone, I deduced that my reservations, however mildly expressed, had
shaken his customary self-assurance. I continued our discussion with amenity.
“Is it really true, my good fellow, that everything is negotiable? Should we
give in if the neo-barbarians try to prevent us from practicing our religion,
for example? Should we accept it if they wish to destroy the
natural order, in particular, its foundation in the rights to family and
private property? Should we allow them to expand their concentration
camps across the world? Should we also accept the general poverty that the
Communist regime has brought about in
By now,
the poor fellow’s face was flushed. He stammered his reply, as though his
beliefs had been dealt a body blow. “You are a professor and much older than I.
Frankly, I don’t know how to answer your arguments, but Nixon, the greatest man
of our century, follows precisely the path I have been advocating. If you
analyze his actions, you will see that they are justified by the hope that our
Communist adversary will be moved by generous concessions into signing a great
accord. Surely, you wouldn’t presume to understand diplomacy better than the
greatest man of our century?”
Unaccustomed
to being challenged, however agreeably, my acquaintance had abandoned his
feeble quest of logic for the refuge of authority, resting his argument
entirely on the thin reed of President Richard Nixon’s purported infallibility.
I
continued mildly, “But the one you describe as ‘the greatest man of our
century’ did not always hold such views. In fact, in previous campaigns, he ran
as a militant anti-Communist.”
“You’re
right,” my companion conceded, “but after being defeated, he came to see the
error of his ways. The American people showed him a better path. He embraced
it, and now we see him leading the way to accommodation. You don’t think that
Nixon is really displeased with the U.N. vote, do you? It relieved him of
responsibility for the many concessions he wanted but did not dare to make.
While some may claim that the vote robbed his trip to
As our
optimist had regained his self-assurance, I asked him in a confidential tone,
“Tell me, my good fellow, what concessions would these be?”
Beaming
like a prophet of optimism he declared, “Dr. Plinio, the world is headed toward
convergence. Peace does not exist between those who are different, but between
those who are alike. If we take steps towards the Communist world, they will
take steps toward ours, and we will meet somewhere in the middle — a certain
advanced socialism, with a minimized and changeable family structure. It will
be a world of universal peace, built upon the renunciation of all doctrines,
all ideologies, and all rigid systems.” A sudden hardness came over him as he
affirmed ruthlessly, “everyone will have to accept it or be crushed.”
At last,
it was my turn. And I said to the good fellow: I have listened to you patiently
and at length. You are devoted to dialogue, are you not? Permit me, then, to speak
for a few moments now.”
The good
fellow felt insulted by my arguments against Nixon and against himself.
Silenced for the moment, he smoked nervously, pretending to pay more attention
to the smoke he exhaled than to my words.
“A human
society is a living organism, whose health depends on its adherence to
imperative and subtle rules. In order that we might discover these rules,
philosophers, theologians, sociologists, and economists have dedicated their
lives to pursuing them. Divided into diverse schools, they have launched a
polemic that constitutes one of the highest achievements of the human mind.
From among these schools, it behooves us to follow the one that teaches the
natural order created by God — otherwise our society will fail and, ultimately,
perish.
“Let’s
recall, once again, the comparison of society with a living organism. What if a
mortally ill man were to think as you do and reject all doctrines? Placed
between two physicians who disagreed on the diagnosis of his malady, he would
tell each of them to get lost, since they are only men of theory. Seeking a
‘practical’ solution, he would mix the remedies of one with those of the other
and drink them. He would commit suicide.
“Does it
not seem to you that holding the physician in contempt is a mark of ignorance,
more applicable to the barbarian than to a civilized man?”
The good
fellow was livid with rage. “Dr. Plinio, there is absolutely no accord possible
with you or with your TFP. The only remedy is to silence you. I do not care for
such doctrinal and reasoned thinking. It is positively medieval. We live in the
new age of the practical man who resolves everything by experience.”
“My dear
fellow, this is precisely what the shaman thinks of the scientist. You are
heralding the age of the witchdoctor. Please pardon my frankness, but honesty
compels me to go further. You are inaugurating the era of the barbarian, for to
declare logic outdated and thought obsolete is to establish among man an
incomprehensible way of life, torn by dark, endless struggles played out to a
savage drumbeat of hatred, resentment, and envy.
“You call
the Communists barbarians — and so they are — but look in the mirror. The
barbarians on the other side think erroneously, but you and your kind believe
that one should not think at all. Who is more barbarian?”
I then
remained silent, and so did our good fellow. At that very moment, a quite
elderly lady emerged from the doctor’s office, supporting herself on a delicate
and attractive cane. The physician accompanying her said, “It’s a question of
one’s school of medicine. My colleague follows one school and I another. It is
up to you to choose.”
“I will
think about it and pray about it,” she replied. “All my life I have always
thought and prayed before making important decisions,
and that has always served me well.”
The
physician smiled knowingly. “It is because of this that you are so fit for your
age.”
I glanced
a last time at our erstwhile good fellow. He continued to chain smoke
uncontrollably and was nervously chewing a fingernail. “Poor barbarian,” I
mused.
(*) Folha de S.Paulo,