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PARTISAN REVIEW
which, the demon? One has a bright face he has known since his
childhood; this must be the angel. No, for this face bears certain
hideous scars. It is the face of the old order, of stupid college fratern–
ities, of the senile imbecility of politicians, of the decrepitude of
Western Europe. This is death and decadence. The other face is
strong and self-contained, the face of a tomorrow that beckons.
Angelic?
This
is doubtful.
There is a great deal of talk about patriotism; about fine, pro–
gressive, national traditions; about veneration of the past. But no
one is so naive as to take such talk seriously. The reconstruction of
a few historical monuments, or the re-edition of the works of former
writers cannot change certain revealing and important facts. The
country has become a province of the Empire, ruled by edicts from
the Center. It retains some autonomy, but to an ever-diminishing de–
gree. Perhaps the era of independent states is over; perhaps they
are no more than museum pieces. Yet it is saddening to say good-by
to one's dreams of a federation of equal nations, of a United States
of Europe in which differing languages and differing cultures would
have equal status. It isn't pleasant to surrender to the hegemony of
a nation which is still wild and primitive, and to concede the abso–
lute superiority of its customs and institutions, science and technol–
ogy, literature and art. Must one sacrifice so much in the name of
the unity of mankind? The nations of Western Europe will pass
through this phase of integration later, and perhaps more gently.
It is possible that they will be more successful in preserving their
native language and culture. By that time, however, all of Eastern
Europe will be using the one universal tongue, Russian. And the
principle of a "culture that is national in form, socialist in content"
will be consummated in a culture of monolithic uniformity. Every–
thing will be shaped by the Center; though individual countries will
retain a few local ornaments in the way of folklore. The Universal
City will be realized when a son of the Kirghiz steppes waters his
horses in the Loire, and a Sicilian peasant plants cotton in Turk–
omen valleys. Small wonder the writer smiles at propaganda that cries
for a freeing of colonies from the grasp of imperialistic powers. 0
how cunning dialectics can be, and how artfully
it
can accomplish
its ends, degree by degree!
How bitter
411
this is. But what about the harbinger of the
