PARTISAN REVIEW .
right to write for the oppressing class
alone,
nor to join forces with
a party which asks us to work dishonestly and with a bad conscience.
Insofar as the Communist Party channelizes, almost in spite of itself,
the aspirations of an entire oppressed class which irresistibly leads
it to demand, for fear of being "outflanked on the left," such meas–
ures as peace with the Viet Nam or the increase of salaries-which its
whole political line is inclined to avoid-we are with this party
against the bourgeoisie; insofar as certain well-intentioned bourgeois
circles recognize that spirituality must be simultaneously a free nega–
tivity and a free construction, we are with these bourgeois against
the C.P. Insofar as a scurvy, opportunistic, conservative, and deter–
ministic ideology is in contradiction with the very essence of literature
we are against both the C.P. .and the bourgeoisie. That means clear–
ly that we are writing against everybody, that we have readers
but no public. Bourgeois who have broken with our class but who
have remained bourgeois in our morals, separated from the prole–
tariat by the Communist screen, we remain up in the air; our good
will serves no one, not even us; we are in the age of the undiscov–
erable public. And what is worse still, we are writing against the
current.
The authors of the eighteenth century helped make history be–
cause the historical perspective of the moment was revolution and
because a writer can and ought to align himself on the side of revolu–
tion if it is proven that there is no other means of bringing an end
to oppression. But the writer today can in no case approve of a war,
because the social structure of war is dictatorship, because its results
are always a matter of c?ance, and because, whatever happens, its
costs are infinitely greater than the gains, and finally because war
alienates literature by making it serve the propagandistic hullabaloo.
Since our historical perspective is war, since we are asked to
choose between the Anglo-Saxon and the Soviet blocs, and since
we refuse to prepare for war with either one or the other, we have
fallen outside of history and are speaking in the desert. We are not
even left with the illusion of winning our case by means of an appeal;
there will be no appeal, and we know that the posthumous fate of
our works will depend neither upon our talents nor our efforts, but
upon the results of future conflicts. In the event of a Soviet victory,
we will be passed over in silence until we die a second time; in the
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