The Stronnictwo, the Individual, and Cancer
I peer through the haze of drugs and fatigue at the glass bottle hanging from the intravenous stand. The bottle says “Methotrexate”. There is a skull symbol below the words. Death. Death dripping through the rubbing tubing. Death dripping slowly through the needle. Death in my arm, in my veins, in my heart.
Death for me but maybe also death for the cancer too. Its just a matter of who it kills first. Dr. Mozdzierz has faith in the new therapy but I have my doubts. From last week's experience, I know the clear liquid will bring raging fever, nausea, fatigue, and a fogginess of thought and memory I hadn’t thought possible.
I reach for Katarzyna and she realizes I am awake. I see that my outstretched arm is thin, emancipated, bone and skin and little else. Katarzyna was once my assistant, a secretary and behind the scenes deal-maker. She is tall and thin, so blond her hair is almost white. She is only 36 but already much older than her too few years. In this way she is much like me. I know she loved me once, yes, even still, but she also knew that I would always love the dream of Miedzymorze more than I could love any other person. She has a lover now and I don’t truly believe she loves him more than shes loves our dream for our people. We are more alike than perhaps she once knew. She looks at me now and where I had once seen admiration and even a bit of fear, I now see only pity. But maybe the fear is still there fear... and if i squint, perhaps the admiration is still there too... perhaps.
“Szef (boss), it pains my heart to see you like this. You are so thin. Thirty-nine years old and you are grey and shrunken like a dziadek (grandfather).”
I make to sush her but instead I cough. When it subsides there is blood spattered across the sheets and my chin. Gently she wipes the spatters away. I catch her looking to the bottle with the skull on it, slowly dumping its poison into my heart. I say nothing.
“Szef, you called me that you might share with me your dream for the Miedzymorze if… if…” She doesn’t finish but she doesn’t mean, “If”. She means "when"; she means “when you die.”
I straighten myself a bit, secretly proud that I can arrange my own pillow. Propping myself on my elbows seems to raise my head out of the Methotrexate fog somewhat and I manage to collect my thoughts a bit.
“Where were we then?”
She opens her notes and quotes, “History is a story of individuals…”
I remember she came to see me yesterday and we had started to discuss our beloved Miedzymorze but we hadn’t gotten very far. Pitifully short-lived that session had been. We had discussed the old times, the war against the Germans and Russians, my rise in the party and my seat at the high council at the young age of 37. Her role in my meteoric success would be forever understated, an unforgivable but stoically borne shame of our society and her gender. Someday.
“Yes, individuals. From individuals comes creativity, ingenuity, the very future itself. To suppress the individual, to force compliance or mediocrity in the face of tyranny or popularist whim is to crush the visionary passion of our society, the driving force for its betterment.
“The difficult part then is to shepherd that creative power, to turn it not to selfish whim, but to the needs of the society as a whole. It is the very basis of the technokratyczny and the Stronnictwo (party). We must all be servants, as you are…”
Katrzyna stops taking notes for a moment and strokes my arm, “And as you have been Szef Gavinksi, to all its peoples.”
Her words are a compliment but they are also an indictment. She means that I was too much a servant of the cause and of the party to have loved her, or indeed anyone. I smile at her- gently. In another life I would have loved her dearly as she had wanted. It would have been very easy.
“Indeed, how then to celebrate the individual, to nurture its creativity and drive, and to, at the same time, harness it for the good of all our people? The answer is the stronnictwo itself. It is why we test and test again. It is why instead of those with the best connections and richest friends, we promote those who score the best in their testing, who prove their worth with success. It is why the stronnictwo reaches so far beyond the halls of governance, why our membership includes academics and businessmen, artists, authors, farmers, factory workers and machinists. The stronnictwo is both a means of excellence, a means for the individual to fulfill their greatness and match their actions to their ambition, and a means for the entirety of our people to gain from that creativity, intelligence and drive.”
“In the western democracies, rulers are those who are best able to lie to the people, to smile at them and tell them the things they want to hear, who can scurry from one whimsical emergency to the other, never truly enacting a vision or actually governing. The truly competent, the individuals of excellence turn to their own pursuits, amassing power and influence and often serving, despite perhaps their own best intentions, as corrupting influences within their societies. The tyrants, of course, are no better; divorced from the needs of the people, they serve only themselves, crushing the strongest in their midst for fear of competition and an end to their rule.
“The stronnictwo cannot crush the ambitious, the intelligent, and skilled and the creative. Its very nature is inclusive. The elite amongst us, those who will truly shape our future, needn’t scurry about misleading the people, lying to them and playing on their fears or momentary whims, nor fear the jackboots of the tyrants. They have merely to prove their worth, to show through their scores or successes that they are worthy and opportunity is made available to them; it is inherent to our government system. It is the very meritocratic heart of the technokratyczny.
“And what of the poor? Journalist speak of the growth of the ‘welfare state’. Ha! We are not some nanny-state, where regulation and taxation will drown us in mediocrity. No matter the occupation, no matter the field, there is always room, indeed demand for excellence. If one stocks shelves in a grocer’s shop, one can have pride in one’s work, or one can work merely to be paid, eager to return home with the shelves half-empty and inventory a mess. And that is where the stronnictwo has a role. We create opportunity for the best, even in mundane things, be they stocking shelves or sweeping streets; there will always been room amongst our membership for those who do best. And for those who do best, there is always better opportunities.
“The same is true in the factories. We pay very well; our laws require employers to recognize superior performance and reward it. Benefits, pay, career growth, even party membership; if you work hard, are intelligent or skilled or both, and are ambitious, you will be rewarded. This is to encourage excellence and effort. And those who do not care for excellence, who are content wallow in mediocrity will always find a place but we will not celebrate them just for their humanity or membership in our society alone. No- we will always encourage them to grow, to reach beyond what they are today."
I had more to say, something about the nanny-state but the treatment is like a tide and the tide is now high, the fog of forgetting, rolling in hazy and thick, turning my dreams and plans, my very words, to wisps lost in the wind.
“I grow very tired Katrzy. I think we will continue another time."
Katrzyna smiles at me, pity mixing with dedication. She, like me, is dedicated to a dream, and after I am gone, she will have to be both her voice and mine.
She turns the lights off on the way out and in the thin light shining through the small window, I watch the last of the clear liquid emptying from the bottle over my bed. The skull seems to grin at me and I wonder if I will die soon or slowly.