Omega (17) "Well, not just that." I told him about my quest for the Truth. "The Truth!" Exclaimed the Philosopher. "That's exactly what my quest in life has been, but not by travelling. I would be very surprised to find the Truth in such an aimless way. The Truth can only be discovered by intense ceaseless philosophical enquiry. With enough time and effort even a worm can find its way to the end of a maze. With a powerful enough microscope even a mole can see the atoms of fundamental creation. With sufficient philosophical enquiry the Truth will surely be revealed." "Do you have a hypothesis of what the Truth may be?" "The pursuit of such metaphysical enquiry has not been my speciality, but I have read widely on the subject and debated long with many of the finest minds of our time. My opinion is that the Truth is such that when it has been demonstrated as found, by rigorous logic, using only the most undeniable of shared knowledge then the end of all philosophical enquiry will have been achieved. The Truth will shine out from the predicate calculus of its expression. Indeed it could be said that some of the Truth is already known." "Is that so?" I asked, speculating that I might be nearer the object of my search than I'd anticipated. "Indeed it is! In the mere expression of a thing then that thing exists by virtue of its own expression. It is undeniable, for instance, when I say that if all birds fly, then if that is a bird then it must fly. This is true by virtue of its expression and is what the Truth must partake of." "But not all birds do fly," I objected. "Penguins don't fly. Kiwis don't fly. Ostriches, diatrymas and rheas don't fly. And if a bird damages its wing or if the wing is clipped then it wouldn't fly." The Philosopher smiled. "You are clearly not a logician. It matters not whether a proposition is true. The Truth lies in the expression of that proposition. It follows that if the reasoning is correct, then if the propositions express the Truth then the Truth is revealed: however amazing and unbelievable that Truth may be." "Then the Truth must lie in the fundamental propositions," I commented. "Exactly so. A house made of straw will surely fall, but one built on firm foundations will weather any storm." "Isn't the question then to find what these firm foundations are, rather than in what they can be used to build?" I speculated, using the Philosopher's metaphor. "Philosophers have said that what we see in the world are just shadows of the Truth. Our lives and our experiences are nothing more than the most modest reflection of the Truth. And it has been said that it is impossible to directly gaze at it, as we would be blinded like one staring at the sun. We are just silhouettes of our real polydimensional selves. Indeed, scientists have even concluded that at the smallest quantum level of the universe the rules governing the universe are totally unlike those we perceive. We see just the crudest outline of what the Truth may be." "So the Truth is something that can't be directly experienced?" "I didn't say that. But there are those who would say so. And there are those who say that the Truth is not a physical thing that could be experienced at all. It is just a proper reasoned expression of what the universe may be, arrived at only from the most fundamental of axioms. Cogito ergo sum, and others. By being sure of what we know by rigorous logical enquiry then we can be certain that what we know is truly what we know. We can be certain that the universe is so and not such." "The Truth doesn't appear to be a particularly exciting thing in that case," I commented with disappointment. "Indeed why should it be? Others profess that the Truth is nothing more nor less than God. They argue that the proper pursuit of the Truth is merely to know God, in all His glory and magnificence. Some have sought to prove the existence of God from the workings of the universe; asserting that the Truth is nothing more than another name for the Great Mover, the Original Being and the Creator of all things. I have my doubts though if that can be, because it would not answer the question as to why there is a God. The deeper you plunge, the deeper still there is to descend." The Scottish Terrier looked at my puzzled expression. "I hope I have illuminated your ignorance," he remarked. "Philosophical enquiry is like a torch shone in the darkness, but like a torch it is painful to look directly into its beam." "Perhaps you're right," I mused. "Perhaps I'm searching for the Truth in totally the wrong way. Maybe I should spend my time in thought and meditation." "Thought should be adequate, young man. But I see that we have arrived at the town. Where's my slave?" He looked around him irritatedly, and could see the slave quite a long distance behind us bowed further down by the weight of the luggage and walking towards us rather slower than we'd managed. "Pah! The lazy peasant. I'll be late for my appointment if he doesn't hurry!" He barked urgently at the slave who stood visibly more upright and hastened a little faster. I left the Philosopher waiting impatiently for his slave by the roadside, angrily muttering to himself, and proceeded towards the town which I only knew by its previous name of Iota. 9 I was impressed by the many banners and flags hung up along the road approaching the town. The Borough of Rupert Welcomes the Great Leader. We Salute You, Chairman President. All Hail President Chairman Rupert. I had the distinct impression that the people of the town were very enthusiastic about President Chairman Rupert: a notion reinforced by portraits of the koala in many striking and heroic poses hanging from lamp-posts, embellishing walls and filling enormous posters. These were intermingled with election posters all for the Illicit Party. There were none at all representing other Parties. Everywhere there was Rupert's face wearing his broad-brimmed hat, accompanied by a single word next to a cross in a square. The single word was sometimes self-explanatory like Rupert, Illicit and Unity. Sometimes the word suggested something less obvious like 100%, Republicity and Truth. This last word particularly caught my attention, especially as it was one used more frequently than almost all others. Even some of the slogans used the word. Only the Illicit Party knows the Truth. Truth is Illicit and Rupert. The Truth belongs to the Illicit Cause. The enthusiasm expressed for the Illicit Party and its leader built up steadily as I wandered past a brand new sign that read in enormous letters: Welcome to the Illicit Borough of Rupert, under which were details relating to the town being twinned to the cities of Rupertgrad and Rupertsville in the Illicit Republic of Rupert. This enthusiasm wasn't constrained to banners and posters, as I found myself in a town almost full to overflowing with people all moving in one direction. Most townspeople were sheep of one kind or another, and I was nearly deafened by their excited bleating punctuated with the chanting of political slogans. I couldn't easily differentiate the slogans but many included the words Illicit and Rupert. One sounded like: "Her Maphrodite Good. Rupert Better." Another referred unfavourably to Cats, but over the competing noises I could catch only the gist of a litany of crimes attributed to them and the tortures that Cats deserved as a result. I followed the crowd's flow, curious to find out what was attracting so many people. It was very orderly and this was ensured by the presence of small dragons standing on street corners emanating a steady stream of smoke from their nostrils, nursing semi-automatic firearms between their wings and their forearms, while their serpentine tails wagged from side to side. The density of images relating to Rupert steadily increased, as not only did his marsupial features gaze benignly down from enormous hoardings on the top of buildings and from the walls of every available building, but, as if more were needed, many sheep carried banners adorned by the koala. These banners also had slogans relating to issues hinted elsewhere, such as: 100% Turnout. 100% Rupert., Avenge the Sufferings of Feline Expansion and Truth and Justice and an Illicit Government. The images of Rupert included even a statue, at least nine feet high, standing on a tall pedestal well above the crowd. The statue gazed towards the distant horizon, one paw hidden in the depths of a monstrous great coat and the other held out horizontally in front as if showing the way. The purpose of this large gathering, I discovered from reading some posters, was that there was a political rally to inspire electoral support for the Illicit Party. This had already started, and as I approached more closely to the town square loudspeakers blared the voice of a small dragon in a very dapper suit who was addressing the crowd of ruminant supporters and raising the occasional approving cheer. However, this speaker, popular though he clearly was, did not fully explain the large turnout. The reason was that President Chairman Rupert himself was due to address the gathering. He was actually meant to be speaking now, but even from the hundred yards or so that I stood from the platform that had been erected for the speakers, I could see that he was not even amongst those seated in chairs behind the dragon. Driven by curiosity I moved into the midst of a crowd fortunately mostly somewhat shorter than me, so I could get a very good view and was soon able to position myself where I could properly hear what was being said. An enormous bank of speakers curved round in a semicircle to address the heaving mass of woolly fleeced supporters who crowded out the entire square, and spread beyond and behind the surrounding buildings. The odd dragon strode through the crowd carrying an automatic weapon and puffing menacingly to calm down the more over-enthusiastic lambs. The speaker was clearly getting very excited by his own rhetoric in which he interspersed the words Truth, Cat Menace, Illicit Party and, most frequently of all, the name of Rupert, for whom no praise seemed adequate. The dragon brought his address to a close by repeating over and over again the word Rupert, which was echoed increasingly by the audience. This became a loud monotonous chant of "Rupert! Rupert! Rupert!" Then when I was sure the chant couldn't get louder, the crowd let loose an thunderous incoherent cry as a small figure appeared from the corner of the stage, sporting a great coat which reached almost down to his ankles and a flamboyant hat, and sauntered towards the centre of the stage. On cue, enormous screens above and on either side of the stage suddenly flickered into life to display identical pictures of the same koala waving his arms at the audience in appreciation of the greeting he had earned. This went on for nearly ten minutes in which I felt trapped in the mass of people and threatened by a cheering that sent vibrations up from the cobbled ancient ground through my legs, causing my jaw to tremble and my ears to ache. And then. suddenly, with a single lowering of the President Chairman's upraised arms, the crowd was hushed. There was not even a single bleat. An enormous image of his face filled the screen. A colossal flag of green, red and black descended to the back of the stage in the centre of which was a single vertical black line that I presumed was the letter I representing the Illicit Party. "We have worked hard. We have laboured long. We have struggled against all adversity. We have defeated our enemies. The enemies of Illiberal Socialism and the Truth. Through astute and farseeing manoeuvres, we have seen off traitors and have secured power for the great cause of Illiberal Socialism in our land. And now we shall secure the same cause here." The crowd roared its approval. "Here in the Illiberal Socialist Borough. Here with all of you gathered here. Here. And Now. The cause of Illiberal Socialism begins its relentless, unstoppable struggle which in the Election or after will bring us to Power in this land. Here and Now is where the Battle commences!" The koala paused and the crowd took its cue for a wild abandon of applause, much the same as before but focused now on the rallying cry: "Lead us forward, Rupert! Take the nation! Exterminate Her Maphrodite and the Coition ministers!" "The success and the continuing success of the Illiberal Socialist cause is the accomplishment of a political movement which addresses the needs of all the people, which provides the engine of great economic growth and which brings prosperity to all. The Illicit Party is the Party of Freedom." "Freedom!" roared the crowd. "True Freedom is freedom from want, from poverty, from despair, from indecision, from uncertainty and from the corruptions of the capitalist, imperialist reactionary. Freedom to serve the greatest causes. Freedom to follow and obey. Freedom to build up the strength of the Illicit State. With a strength, untainted by knowledge and bourgeois liberal caveats, to crown the achievements of the Illiberal Socialist Republics with victory here, led by you, the people of the Illiberal Socialist Borough. Pooling together your untutored strength and your determination to wage war for Peace and Prosperity. For it is only by unceasing struggle using sticks, stones, firearms and missiles that true Peace will be attained. And then we will be Free. Free from the corrupt Coition government and its communist, capitalist and imperialist ministers. Freedom!" "Freedom! Freedom!" came the chant. "And what does this Freedom the Illiberal Socialist movement desire so much? Is it the freedom from oppression and dictatorship so desired by the petty bourgeoisie? The liberty that promises so much, but furnishes us instead with vile pornography, immoral literature, repugnant art and so much opinion that no one knows when they are right or when they are wrong. The freedom which borders on chaos and anarchy in which crime is rife and the mob wanders where it pleases. What freedom is that? No freedom at all! And is it the freedom advocated by the Red Party? A freedom measured by the freedom to learn, the freedom to eat well, the freedom to achieve. The freedom to organise, rebel, destroy and usurp. No! The freedom advocated by Illiberal Socialism is the freedom to serve, the freedom to struggle in a great cause. The freedom which serves Illiberal Socialist Party and therefore of the greater good. And that is what we mean when we advocate Freedom. We want freedom now! Freedom from the Reds, the Blues and the Greens!" "Freedom! Freedom!" The crowd chanted, stomped and enthused in a regular rhythm partly coordinated by the dragon stewards mingling with the crowd and raising smoke from their mouths as they yelled out a refrain that gradually shifted to a repetition of "Rupert! Rupert!" The koala raised a paw to silence the crowd, who did so with remarkable promptness. "There are those who criticise the Illiberal Socialist Party for contesting the General Election. They say that as we do not practice democracy in the Illiberal Socialist Republics then we are hypocritical to participate in the process here. But democracy is nothing more than the means by which the people of a country choose how they wish to be governed. And in the Illiberal Socialist Republics that decision has been made. Unequivocally. Unanimously. And Eternally. As it will be made here tomorrow!" The crowd roared its approval and perhaps prematurely a section of the audience recommenced a chant of "Rupert! Rupert!" He let it carry on for nearly a minute before silencing it with a gesture and continuing. "When the people of this nation so wish, and by the flawed process of Representational Democracy if necessary, the Illicit Party will take power in this land. Then this country will enjoy the more genuine democracy as it is practised in the Illiberal Socialist Republics. Not a paper democracy where once every four years or so, the people are allowed the rare privilege to register their approval or disapproval of the governing parties. Not a democracy where the people's sole method of making themselves heard is by entering a cross against the appropriate candidate. The democracy that the Illicit Party believes in is not one where each candidate is presented to the people only for the campaign for election and then squanders the rest of his tenure in the City far away from those he supposedly represents. No! The democracy practised in the Illiberal Socialist Republics is a more active one. One where a Party official is at hand in even the smallest community ready to listen to the representations of the people and report his findings to a pyramid of party officials able to respond swiftly to each specific issue. Or as quickly as possible. Within weeks or even days of the representation there is prompt and decisive action. The faulty shearing machines are repaired, the broken cobbles are mended and the new by-pass built. The corrupt landlord, bureaucrat or intellectual is appropriately punished. The statues and posters reminding each of us of our duties to the Illiberal Socialist cause are erected in response to popular demand. The shopkeeper, café-owner and hairdresser insufficiently reflecting the Illiberal Socialist zeal of his customers is chastised. And in addition, the local Party official also guides the community in the ways of Illiberal Socialist doctrine, weeds out the shirkers and malcontents, and ensures that everyone is happy with their lot. In fact, in the Illiberal Socialist Republics discontent is gravely frowned upon and the future for a Party official in a discontented community is unlikely to be prosperous. So, to all the doubters and cynics: Yes! we are not afraid to hear the opinion of the people. So! I beseech you! Go ahead tomorrow and register your vote for the Illicit Party and your excellent local candidate!" The crowd immediately erupted into more cheering and chanting. I felt increasingly crushed by the pressure on me from behind as more and more people moved forward to be nearer the President Chairman. I was grateful indeed that the crowd were fleeced so well. However, no matter how crowded it was, there seemed to be no obstacle to the flow of the stewards through the throng. "It has been said that the Illicit Party has no policy on wealth and power. It is proclaimed by these sceptics that the only political debate of value is that addressing the two issues of wealth distribution and the concentration of power. All other issues are mere distractions from a great class struggle that has been taking place since the earliest of times. What nonsense I say! What poppycock! Have you heard anything so ridiculous!" The crowd was invited to laugh which it duly did, but I still wasn't sure what the joke was. "It is this spurious debate which seemingly divides the two wings of political opinion: the Reds and Greens on the one side and the Blues and Blacks on the other. The Red Party and other communists throughout the world claim to represent the interests of the poor which they would achieve by a dictatorship of the proletariat, in which all wealth and power is distributed amongst the poor. What utter nonsense! Is society to be turned upside down? Is the servant to tell his master what to do? Is the student to teach his lecturer? Is the shop floor worker to dictate to his manager what should be produced? What arrant and dangerous nonsense!" The crowd laughed appreciatively. These were more like jokes. "The Blue and Black Parties represent opinions of the right, by which they assert that the preservation of law and order is dependant on the continuance of the current distribution of wealth and power. They claim that by acting in the interests of the rich and powerful they act as guardians of law, order and common decency. But if the law be corrupt? If the order be fractured? If the rich and powerful act against the interests of the people rather than in their interests? Where then is the argument for preserving the wealth and power of the established order? We say that the interests of the people are best served by seizing it from the present corrupt, immoral and uncaring establishment. Then transferring it to safe custody in the interests of all the people and in the furtherance of the Illicit cause. We say to you corrupt businessmen, condescending aristocracy and overpaid intellectuals: Enjoy your wealth and privilege now for as long as you can. For soon it will belong to us!" The crowd erupted again in great cheers. "Rupert! Rupert! Rupert!" A few dragon stewards raised their small-arms above their heads and waved them in exultation. A few firecrackers exploded noisily and celebratorily in the distance. While the crowd continued to show its approval by cheering, chanting, banging drums, whistling and waving banners, I scanned over their heads to see who was there. Amongst the sheep and dragons were humans, mermen, lions, crabs, scorpions and there in the distance a solitary Cat whom I felt sure was the traveller I'd recently met on the way to the town. He was rapt in attention and showed no evidence of having seen me. "Government is always fraught by uncertainty and indecision," continued the koala, his face beaming out from the screens to the whole crowd. "Even an Illiberal Socialist government is run by imperfect beings, of which I must count myself. Bad decisions are made which seem so right at the time, but later appear so wrong. The Illicit Party has made such mistakes, it must be acknowledged. Once we were too tolerant of criticism from intellectuals and academics: a mistake now rectified. Once we allowed too much power and wealth to remain in the hands of the aristocrats, capitalists and counter-revolutionaries. Although corrected now, the Illiberal Socialist Republics still suffer from the legacy of this indulgence and lack of unswerving zeal. There is only one way that a government can be sure that what it does is right, proper and for the best. There is only one way to ensure that government is truly for the best, without regard for the petty bourgeois tendencies of its administrators. And that way can only be achieved by possession of the Truth!" "Rupert! Rupert!" chanted the crowd in agreement, while I reeled at the import of the President Chairman's remarks. Was the Illicit Party, like myself, on a quest for the Truth? What did the koala mean by the Truth? Was it the same thing that I was looking for? "This is why I have authorised a search for the Truth!" Rupert announced as if echoing my thoughts. "With the Truth, there will no longer be doubt or indecision. With the Truth it will be known for sure where mistakes may be made and how they can be avoided. Armed with the Truth an Illicit government can ensure that government is fair, just and accords best with the aims of the Illiberal Socialist cause. It is the right, indeed the prerogative, of the Illicit Party to be armed with this, the most potent of all weapons, against which we need have no fear of contradiction, no fear of wavering from the best path towards the proper exercise of power. So I tell you now. Go out! In your thousands! In your greatest numbers! And seek the Truth! Seek it here! Seek it there! With the massed effort of all Illicitists, the Truth will be found and will forever serve the interests of our great movement! The Truth! The Truth!" The crowd echoed this cry and all around me I was surrounded by the chant: "The Truth! The Truth!" intermingled with "Rupert! Rupert!" and even the combination "Rupert is the Truth! Rupert is the Truth!" The koala allowed this last chant to dominate, orchestrated as it seemed to be by some dragons whose cries came out in bursts of sulphurous fumes. He raised his paws.
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