the subject. But—perhaps I was wrong.”
“Do I know him?”
“I don’t think so.” Better not give away Brownlee’s name, even to Weidler, until Brownlee said it was all right. “Before the war came,” Paul went on, “he used to work for Consumers’ Union. He tracked down all the false advertisements, the misleading statements made by dubious manufacturers. He believed that the public ought to know what it was buying. He feels very much the same about propaganda. Take away the tinsel and the gay wrapping paper and let people see what really lies inside. All ingredients to be marked honestly on the outside of the box. Then, if people still insist on buying it, the responsibility is all theirs.”
“That makes solid good sense,” Weidler said, suddenly interested. “That’s an idea worth following through.”
“And that is what he means to do. It seems to him that people have been offered a lot of packaged ideas in these last few years without being told what the packages really contain. Just as the people of France were sold ideas such as ‘Imperialist war,’ ‘Patriotism is for the rich,’ ‘Hitler doesn’t mean the destruction of France,’ ‘Why fight for England?’ But by the end of 1940 Frenchmen were beginning to realise that they had been duped. Patriotism was for every man, if he wanted to stay a Frenchman. They weren’t fighting for anything except their own freedom. By that time, it was too late to fight ideas with ideas. It was a case, then, of fighting with machine guns too, of underground warfare, of risking torture and death and the destruction of their families.”
“I’d like to see you do a series of articles on that,” said Weidler. Then regretfully, “Only, of course, we steer clear of politics.”
“What has Blackworth been doing? Concentrating on the beauty of abstract art or the joys of travel?”
Weidler looked at Paul Haydn almost angrily. “You’ve come back speaking plainly,” he said. But he was thinking over what Haydn had told him.
“Yes. And I’m going to add this too,” Paul said. “There will be other Blackworths trying to edge their way into Trend. Don’t think you can relax, now that you’ve found him out. This is going to be a struggle for power for the next ten or twenty years. Perhaps longer. Some struggles for power used up centuries.”
Weidler said, “Will you take this job on Trend , Paul?”
Paul hesitated. “I’m closer to taking it than I was,” he said frankly. “I need a few days to think it all over. The situation is all clearer to be. But—Bill, why don’t you publish the story you told me? Just as you’ve told it to me? Let your readers know. Let the public see what is happening.”
Weidler’s frown came back. “You know what will happen? There will be a campaign against us. We’ll be called fascists, warmongers, American imperialists, witch-hunters.”
“You’ve forgotten to add ‘hysteria-inciters,’” Paul said, smiling. “Strange how often they’ve been using ‘hysteria’ recently—almost hysterically, in fact.” Then, seriously, “We can, of course, let ourselves be blackmailed into silence. That is one of their tactics. We are supposed not to join together and pool our experiences. We have all to keep on worrying in private, and hush everything up publicly. Just like the victims of gangsters’ rackets, who are afraid to testify.”
Weidler said slowly, “I’d like to talk with that friend of yours. The colonel.”
“He isn’t a colonel any more. He resigned his commission. He sees he has to act as a civilian in this.”
“I’d like to talk with him,” Weidler repeated.
“I’ll arrange it. I think it would probably cheer you up if you did. You aren’t alone in this.”
Weidler looked surprised, and then smiled. “God knows I could do with some cheering up.”
“Solidarity forever,” Paul said with a grin, as he rose to leave. “That’s our motto.”
* * *
He said to himself, as
“Do I know him?”
“I don’t think so.” Better not give away Brownlee’s name, even to Weidler, until Brownlee said it was all right. “Before the war came,” Paul went on, “he used to work for Consumers’ Union. He tracked down all the false advertisements, the misleading statements made by dubious manufacturers. He believed that the public ought to know what it was buying. He feels very much the same about propaganda. Take away the tinsel and the gay wrapping paper and let people see what really lies inside. All ingredients to be marked honestly on the outside of the box. Then, if people still insist on buying it, the responsibility is all theirs.”
“That makes solid good sense,” Weidler said, suddenly interested. “That’s an idea worth following through.”
“And that is what he means to do. It seems to him that people have been offered a lot of packaged ideas in these last few years without being told what the packages really contain. Just as the people of France were sold ideas such as ‘Imperialist war,’ ‘Patriotism is for the rich,’ ‘Hitler doesn’t mean the destruction of France,’ ‘Why fight for England?’ But by the end of 1940 Frenchmen were beginning to realise that they had been duped. Patriotism was for every man, if he wanted to stay a Frenchman. They weren’t fighting for anything except their own freedom. By that time, it was too late to fight ideas with ideas. It was a case, then, of fighting with machine guns too, of underground warfare, of risking torture and death and the destruction of their families.”
“I’d like to see you do a series of articles on that,” said Weidler. Then regretfully, “Only, of course, we steer clear of politics.”
“What has Blackworth been doing? Concentrating on the beauty of abstract art or the joys of travel?”
Weidler looked at Paul Haydn almost angrily. “You’ve come back speaking plainly,” he said. But he was thinking over what Haydn had told him.
“Yes. And I’m going to add this too,” Paul said. “There will be other Blackworths trying to edge their way into Trend. Don’t think you can relax, now that you’ve found him out. This is going to be a struggle for power for the next ten or twenty years. Perhaps longer. Some struggles for power used up centuries.”
Weidler said, “Will you take this job on Trend , Paul?”
Paul hesitated. “I’m closer to taking it than I was,” he said frankly. “I need a few days to think it all over. The situation is all clearer to be. But—Bill, why don’t you publish the story you told me? Just as you’ve told it to me? Let your readers know. Let the public see what is happening.”
Weidler’s frown came back. “You know what will happen? There will be a campaign against us. We’ll be called fascists, warmongers, American imperialists, witch-hunters.”
“You’ve forgotten to add ‘hysteria-inciters,’” Paul said, smiling. “Strange how often they’ve been using ‘hysteria’ recently—almost hysterically, in fact.” Then, seriously, “We can, of course, let ourselves be blackmailed into silence. That is one of their tactics. We are supposed not to join together and pool our experiences. We have all to keep on worrying in private, and hush everything up publicly. Just like the victims of gangsters’ rackets, who are afraid to testify.”
Weidler said slowly, “I’d like to talk with that friend of yours. The colonel.”
“He isn’t a colonel any more. He resigned his commission. He sees he has to act as a civilian in this.”
“I’d like to talk with him,” Weidler repeated.
“I’ll arrange it. I think it would probably cheer you up if you did. You aren’t alone in this.”
Weidler looked surprised, and then smiled. “God knows I could do with some cheering up.”
“Solidarity forever,” Paul said with a grin, as he rose to leave. “That’s our motto.”
* * *
He said to himself, as
Similar Books
