POWERFUL WORLD OF OUR TIME
By Peter Weiss
(The following speech by Peter Weiss, author of Marat-Sade, appeared in the September-October 1967 issue of Tricontinental, the theoretical organ of the Executive Secretariat of the Organization of Solidarity of the Peoples of Africa, Asia and Latin America. The wellknown German playwright made the speech especially for Tricontinental.]
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We are discussing the relationship of the politically engaged writer with the Third World and with the underdeveloped countries.
To begin with I want to change the wordings; I do not like the expression "Third World," I do not like to speak about "underdeveloped" countries. The expression "Third World" is based on class-thinking, it qualifies a third class of world, it does not express what this "Third World" contains. It seems to be a world which is sort of hanging on to other worlds which in turn look upon themselves as more important. But this "Third World" makes up the most powerful world of our time. We have to choose a new expression for it; we would call it the "revolutionary world" or the "world of liberation struggle," or call it by a name which shows the militant, the dynanic, the explosive character of this world. From it the great changes will issue, the changes we will have to live through during the following years. I do not want to call those countries which are now rising and which are struggling to build up their new societies, their new attitude towards life, underdeveloped countries; they are not underdeveloped in comparison to the so-called developed countries. They do not have, of course, the same level of industrialization and technical equipment, but they have reached something which many of the so-called developed countries have not reached yet; they have dynamically changed or are on their way to changing their society in a more complete manner than that which changes have brought about in the Western societies. I mean, of course, changes through revolution. I mean Cuba, Viet-Nam, North Korea, Algeria, the liberated zones of Guinea.
These nations have freed themselves from dominating classes, they have freed themselves from oppression, they have freed themselves from exploitation; they have established the dignity of man; and only this can be called development in our time. We should call the revolutionary countries, developed countries, and the Western countries, which still
adhere to a society which is based on
class formation and exploitation, under-
developed.
For example, Viet-Nam and the
United States of America: in comparison
to the U.S.A., Viet-Nam is a developed
country. The society of the United
States contains atavistic, reactionary
antihumanitarian elements: racism is
alive, powerful groups are ruling over
the majority of the nation.
There are those who come from
Western society to lend a helping hand
to the so-called underdeveloped world.
They often believe they find backward-
ness there. They forget what such back-—
wardness [is]; they forget it is they
who have won their power, their supe-
riority, their technical development
through the exploitation of these coun-
tries.
Such being the case, the back-
wardness is not the fault of these
countries. It is the fault of the West-
ern ruling classes, who, by no other
means than colonialist oppression, and
by exploiting the people of the "Third
World" to the marrow of their bones,
built up their enormous power.
This is very often an unconscious
attitude on their part, though it is an
attitude which carries weight in their
relationship with the peoples of these
countries. Often the visitor says he
does not understand what is happening
in these countries; he says the peoples
of these countries speak a different
language. With false superiority he
looks down upon them from his high tech-
nical standards, looks down upon a coun-
try which is in the first phase of de-
veloping higher standards of dignity.
How can a European intellectual
find new means through which to manifest
his solidarity with the revolutionary
world?
Writing, in itself, can be a very
potent activity. It is not only you who
write; there are many elsewhere working
for the same aims. All of them together
make up one extensive universal front.
This front is part of the active revo-
lutionary struggle. Much in the same
way as the guerrilla fighter uses his
gun decisively, the writer ought clear-
ly to define his standpoint. He must not
hide anything. It is not enough to send
to those who are fighting in the hills
some warm words of friendship; you have
to show them your militant and political
support.
Often the question is raised of what you can attain with a work of art, with a book, a poem, a painting, a play; and you ask yourself the question, if it could ever have the effect of the machine gun in the hills. Often I see the superiority of the guerrilla fighter over an intellectual who is content with voicing his solidarity.
But as the war is fought on many fronts, every front on which you fight the enemy can be a strategic point. There might arise situations which compel you to change your attitude and become directly militant. In many countries this is the only solution.
In Western European countries there is still great value attached to writing. As far as I am concerned, writing has been a process in which I became conscious of myself and of the world I am living in. By writing I educated myself, by writing I developed my political thinking. By developing myself, I, asa writer, secure the possibility of influencing others.
In Europe, I see a great obstacle for revolution in the passive attitude of the workers. We do not reach the powerful masses of the workers, we are only in touch with groups of militant intellectuals, and that is not enough. This we felt very strongly: the lack of a revolutionary attitude on the part of the workers in capitalist society, the lack of their direct protest, their direct participation in the struggle of the revolutionary world. Too often we see that the workers in capitalist society only fight for their own immediate economic development.
Yes, they are fighting, too; they are fighting to change their situation; they are not fighting for the entire change of their society, nor do they speak about the change of the entire world, in which all societies would have to change. They are still limited in their consciousness of the necessity of global revolution.
As long as the intellectuals make up small elites without direct collaboration with the working masses the result of their work will be limited. Every revolutionary knows a revolution is not won by an elite; a revolution is won by the masses of workers and peasants in the country.
To whom do I address myself in my plays? Is my audience made up of the bourgeoisie rather than proletarians?
Of course, this differs from one case to another, as my plays have been played in both capitalist and socialist countries. In capitalist society, the theater is mostly a form of the bourgeois
world, the working class does not regard
the theater as its own form of art. They
feel alienated in front of the stage...
This turns out to be entirely different
in socialist.countries, where a quite
new audience is attending the theater,
and where the theater is owned by the
populace. Here the theater is duly appre-
ciated, the theater belongs to the popu-
lace; it is not an institution which has
been built up by a privileged class for
the pleasure of the privileged class.
As a dramatist, I have been award-
ed the possibility of reaching both the
population of a classless society, and
of a bourgeois society, reaching it by
being aggressive with it, by being pro-
vocative with it. Of course my goal is
to address myself to a conscious audience,
an audience which is made up of people
who share my political standpoint and
who wish to undertake a political analy-
sis of their times, the times they are
living in.
I do not know how it is for other
writers. There are good plays which
should be comprehensible for all soci-
eties, for everybody. But I am sure I
would write in a different way if I lived
in a socialist society, and I mean
through and through a socialist society,
where there would be no need to criticize
society, where my writing would be part
of a common constructive work, where I
should deal with the problems and con-
flicts underlying a new attitude toward
life.
The plays I have written until
now are the result of my milieu, the
result of the world in which I have
grown up.
The situation of a present-day
socialist writer differs from that of
the time in which Brecht lived. The
fight going on then between fascism and
communism was more simple than the fight
going on today, in which the socialist
world is a very complex world and con-
tains many different aspects. There is
the question of the necessity of world
revolution, there is the difference
between the technically highly developed
socialist society and the former colo-
nialized new world of the struggle for
liberation. You have to analyze your
own point of view, and indicate where
you stand: whether you believe in the
necessity of global revolution or
whether you want to appeal to worldwide
solidarity.
To start with, you have to secure
a great deal of knowledge and insight,
and never lose sight of the historical
aspects of the situation, and, also,
never lose yourself in emotional reflec-
tions. Historically seen, socialism is
going through a natural development. It
is demonstrating that it is a force very much alive. It would not be alive if it had become stagnant within one closed bloc. The fact that it is open and developing many different aspects -- even aspects which are in strong conflict with one another -- makes it dynamic, dynamic in a Marxist sense.
Cuba, Viet-Nam, and North Korea have already established a norm on present-day revolutionary socialisn, which expounds a new viewpoint in the socialist world. In Cuba and Viet-—Nan, no doubt, Marxism means Humanism. In these countries, Marxism is always subject to development, always subject to internal discussion, never afraid of criticizing itself, and never afraid even of criticizing the other socialist countries. I think this shows an enormous strength, as these countries are fighting in the front line against the threat of imperialisn.
Many intellectuals in Europe today are very much concerned with Cuba's and Viet~Nam's fight. And when the revolution develops in other Latin-American countries, I think this will influence even those socialist countries which as of now are not yet in agreement with the absolute necessity of armed struggle.
I think of the enormous difficulties, human difficulties, of the fact that it is difficult to change oneself, to really change one's attitude, to change one's own past, to free oneself from the influence of the old society one has been brought up in, to free oneself from the corruption of which almost every artist in the Western world partakes. With a greater or lesser degree of consciousness, one is dependent upon the institutions of these countries. Even if you take liberties in expressing what
you think, you still belong to the old
Western society, and you have to work
hard to break away from it. The revolu-
tionary world is very, very different
from the secure world I have grown up
in, in spite of having lived through
the period of German fascism, of emigra-
tion and war. All this is very different
from the fight which is going on today.
I have to bring myself to fear my
old European security, the security of
having an audience, theaters, editors: I
have to endanger my situation. The con-
frontation of the European artists, writ-
ers, intellectuals with a revolutionary
country like Cuba is of great importance.
Arriving in Cuba or in Viet-Nam, we be-
come directly involved in the war which
is going on; we derive a strong physical
experience from it.
Being in Cuba teaches me every day,
every hour almost, the danger facing the
country. Being on an island which is sur-
rounded, blockaded by the enemy, I get to
know what it means to live and to work
confronted with the enemy, to construct,
to build and not to give way to the omi-
nous threat of destruction. This is an
experience of strength and courage which
I have never had in Europe. In the midst
of the political struggles going on in
Europe, you are more safe, you can with-
draw, you can hide yourself; but here you
are absolutely in the open, you can be
attacked any minute; everything which is
built here is constantly threatened with
destruction by the enemy, because the
enemy has no aim other than to destroy;
he must destroy the revolution in order
to keep alive his atavistic, brutal and
reactionary values. This you feel strong-
ly, and this makes your own point of
view clearer; it forces you to be still
more consequent [consistent] in your own
backyard.
HOBSBAWM'S