Yes-men and concessions

“Bring back order”

That slogan began to appear everywhere around the city. Neca officers worked full-time uncovering traitors, saboteurs and imperialist pigs. Every day, neca officers brought the Party leader more and more dossiers. Engineers, teachers, writers, mathematicians: they were all tainted. He summoned his brother and the appointed chief of the neca, alias ‘the Hammer’ for his preferred interrogation method. He expressed his concerns about the rising social unrest to his two trusted advisers:

What have we done to deserve this treason? Don’t they see we’re necessary?

The Hammer replied,

We have done nothing wrong. We should interrogate more people.

But his brother wasn’t so sure,

The peasants don’t like us taking their grain, you must understand that—

But why? Don’t they understand their mission? Are they so blind they can’t see we all need to make sacrifices to ensure our bright future?

His personal secretary, a rat-like beady-eyed man, said,

Sir, it’s all the capitalists’ fault, sir!

Yes… Yes, you’re right! It is the rich capitalist peasant and their greed. They want the surplus grain for themselves. They haven’t abandoned the old ways. ‘Bring back order’ really means ‘Bring back the bourgeois exploitation system’.

His personal secretary jumped out of his seat,

Sir, wise words, sir! Only a genius could say such things!

His brother spoke, looking with disgust at the personal secretary,

Can’t you see what’s going on? When you ask your yes-men for approval, they always support any idea, no matter how stupid it is. Look, if you don’t give an incentive to the peasants, they won’t work, and then we’ll be in real trouble.

He considered his brother’s advice for a moment, but then his secretary shouted,

Let’s cleanse the greedy bourgeoisie!

His brother spoke, looking at the secretary,

And then what? What will you do when people are hungry and there’s nothing left to feed them? We need to use economic levers to—

He stood up, interrupting his brother.

Enough! We must crush the hoarding bourgeoisie—He looked to the Hammer—Crush the corruption before it is too late. It’s the only way.

The eyes of his personal secretary sparkled with adulation,

He’s a true genius! What a humanitarian leader!

That same day he pushed a war-time law through Congress sentencing to death anyone guilty of distributing counter-revolutionary propaganda. His officers began cleansing every corner of society, purging all the “bourgeois and capitalist elements” they could find. The peasants, whom he had promised freedom and lands, now faced an increased tax on their production. Most tried to flee and many died trying.

The neca confiscated any literature that did not deal with the materialistic struggle of the proletariat and burned it in large didactic pyres. But the neca did not have enough manpower to watch over the whole city, so people from rich or bourgeois backgrounds were forcefully relocated to the new communal farms, which were much easier to control.

The suspects of subversive behavior disappeared at night to be either sent to work-camp if they were lucky or get shot in cold dark cellars otherwise. The Neca blamed their disappearances on bad weather or publicly accused them of being treacherous deserters. However, the bloodshed was growing into an independent monster, and the Neca was starting to overshadow him. At a public meeting he announced,

We need an army of our most loyal comrades to fight the empire. That is why today I inaugurate the new Liberation Army. From now on, I will focus all my attention on preparing it for war against the capital. Also today you all will democratically appoint a new mayor for each town, using these—He showed his audience a cardboard ballot box.

The next morning, once the votes had been tallied, the Hammer spoke to him in private,

The man they chose as mayor is uhm… rotten. He leads the underground counter-revolutionary movement.

He couldn’t put one of his enemies in a position of power, even if it was fake power. He picked instead a spineless bureacrat to govern the neighboring city. When he announced the results of the very democratic process, the crowd stared in disbelief. Indignant citizens shouted,

You lied again! Nobody voted for that rachitic spider!

We want the mayor we picked!

Murderer!

Tyrant, tyrant!

The crowd broke into an angry chant. He repeteadly yelled “SILENCE!”, imposing his voice over their chanting, until the chanting ceased:

I am not the enemy! I’m not here to control you. Everyone will rule themselves, that is what we fight for: we are the good ones. Now, who did you vote for?

The crowd pointed at an old man and gave him some room. He tended his hand, inviting him to come to the stage, previously used for executions, from which he now addressed his public.

Rise, my friend. Though our enemies tried to tamper with our elections, your people chose you to lead, and I’m sure you will do a great job.

The citizens finally calmed down. He said,

Good! Now let’s celebrate this appointment with freedom vodka and a great banquet!

People cheered for him and praised him. The sweet alcohol and full bellies slowly mellowed out their remaining anger.