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HAROLD
PINTER
Nobel Literature
Prize Acceptance
Speech
Wednesday, December 7, 2005
from The
Guardian
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In
1958 I wrote the following:
'There are no hard distinctions between what is real and what
is unreal, nor between what is true and what is false. A thing
is not necessarily either true or false; it can be both true
and false.'
I believe that these assertions still
make sense and do still apply to the exploration of reality
through art. So as a writer I stand by them but as a citizen
I cannot. As a citizen I must ask: What is true? What is false?
Truth in drama is forever elusive.
You never quite find it but the search for it is compulsive.
The search is clearly what drives the endeavour. The search
is your task. More often than not you stumble upon the truth
in the dark, colliding with it or just glimpsing an image
or a shape which seems to correspond to the truth, often without
realizing that you have done so. But the real truth is that
there never is any such thing as one truth to be found in
dramatic art. There are many. These truths challenge each
other, recoil from each other, reflect each other, ignore
each other, tease each other, are blind to each other. Sometimes
you feel you, have the truth of a moment in your hand, then
it slips through your fingers and is lost.
It's a strange moment, the moment
of creating characters who up to that moment have had no existence.
What follows is fitful, uncertain, even hallucinatory, although
sometimes it can be an unstoppable avalanche. The author's
position is an odd one. In a sense he is not welcomed by the
characters. The characters resist him, they are not easy to
live with, they are impossible to define. You certainly can't
dictate to them. To a certain extent you play a never-ending
game with them, cat and mouse, blind man's buff, hide and
seek. But finally you find that you have people of flesh and
blood on your hands, people with will and an individual sensibility
of their own, made out of component parts you are unable to
change, manipulate or distort.
So language in art remains a highly
ambiguous transaction, a quicksand, a trampoline, a frozen
pool which might give way under you, the author, at any time.
But as I have said, the search for the truth can never stop.
It cannot be adjourned, it cannot be postponed. It has to
be faced, right there, on the spot.
Political theatre presents an entirely
different set of problems. Sermonising has to be avoided at
all cost. Objectivity is essential. The characters must be
allowed to breathe their own air. The author cannot confine
and constrict them to satisfy his own taste or disposition
or prejudice. He must be prepared to approach them from a
variety of angles, from a full and uninhibited range of perspectives,
take them by surprise, perhaps, occasionally, but nevertheless
give them the freedom to go which way they will. This does
not always work.
Political language,
as used by politicians, does not venture into any of this
territory since the majority of politicians, on the evidence
available to us, are interested not in truth but in power
and in the maintenance of that power. To maintain that power
it is essential that people remain in ignorance, that they
live in ignorance of the truth, even the truth of their own
lives. What surrounds us therefore is a vast tapestry of lies,
upon which we feed.
As every single person here knows,
the justification for the invasion of Iraq was that Saddam
Hussein possessed a highly dangerous body of weapons of mass
destruction, some of which could be fired in 45 minutes, bringing
about appalling devastation. We were assured that was true.
It was not true. We were told that Iraq had a relationship
with Al Quaeda and shared responsibility for the atrocity
in New York of September 11th 2001. We were assured that this
was true. It was not true. We were told that Iraq threatened
the security of the world. We were assured it was true. It
was not true! . The truth is something entirely different.
The truth is to do with how the United States understands
its role in the world and how it chooses to embody it.
But before I come back to the present
I would like to look at the recent past, by which I mean United
States foreign policy since the end of the Second World War.
I believe it is obligatory upon us to subject this period
to at least some kind of even limited scrutiny, which is all
that time will allow here. Everyone knows what happened in
the Soviet Union and throughout Eastern Europe during the
post-war period: the systematic brutality, the widespread
atrocities, the ruthless suppression of independent thought.
All this has been fully documented and verified. But my contention
here is that the US crimes in the same period have only been
superficially recorded, let alone documented, let alone acknowledged,
let alone recognised as crimes at all. I believe this must
be addressed! ssed and that the truth has considerable bearing
on where the world stands now. Although constrained, to a
certain extent, by the existence of the Soviet Union, the
United States' actions throughout the world made it clear
that it had concluded it had carte blanche to do what it liked.
Direct invasion of a sovereign state
has never in fact been America's favoured method. In the main,
it has preferred what it has described as 'low intensity conflict'.
Low intensity conflict means that thousands of people die
but slower than if you dropped a bomb on them in one fell
swoop. It means that you infect the heart of the country,
that you establish a malignant growth and watch the gangrene
bloom. When the populace has been subdued - or beaten to death
- the same thing - and your own friends, the military and
the great corporations, sit comfortably in power, you go before
the camera and say that democracy has prevailed. This was
a commonplace in US foreign policy in the years to which I
refer.
The tragedy of Nicaragua was a highly
significant case. I choose to offer it here as a potent example
of America's view of its role in the world, both then and
now.
I was present at a meeting at the US embassy in London in
the late 1980s. The United States Congress was about to decide
whether to give more money to the Contras in their campaign
against the state of Nicaragua. I was a member of a delegation
speaking on behalf of Nicaragua but the most important member
of this delegation was a Father John Metcalf. The leader of
the US body was Raymond Seitz (then number two to the ambassador,
later ambassador himself). Father Metcalf said:
'Sir, I am in charge of a parish in the north of Nicaragua.
My parishioners built a school, a health centre, a cultural
centre. We have lived in peace. A few months ago a Contra
force attacked the parish. They destroyed everything: the
school, the health centre, the cultural centre. They raped
nurses and teachers, slaughtered doctors, in the most brutal
manner. They behaved like savages. Please demand that the
US government withdraw its support from this shocking terrorist
activity.'
Raymond Seitz had a very good reputation as a rational, responsible
and highly sophisticated man. He was greatly respected in
diplomatic circles. He listened, paused and then spoke with
some gravity.
'Father,' he said, 'let me tell you something. In war, innocent
people always suffer.'
There was a frozen silence. We stared at him. He did not flinch.
Innocent people, indeed, always suffer. Finally somebody said:
'But in this case "innocent people" were the victims
of a gruesome atrocity subsidised by your government, one
among many. If Congress allows the Contras more money further
atrocities of this kind will take place. Is this not! the
case? Is your government not therefore guilty of supporting
acts of murder and destruction upon the citizens of a sovereign
state?'
Seitz was imperturbable.
'I don't agree that the facts as presented support your assertions,'
he said.
As we were leaving the Embassy a US aide told me that he enjoyed
my plays. I did not reply. I should remind you that at the
time President Reagan made the following statement:
'The Contras are the moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.'
The United States supported the brutal
Somoza dictatorship in Nicaragua for over 40 years. The Nicaraguan
people, led by the Sandinistas, overthrew this regime in 1979,
a breathtaking popular revolution. The Sandinistas weren't
perfect. They possessed their fair share of arrogance and
their political philosophy contained a number of contradictory
elements. But they were intelligent, rational and civilised.
They set out to establish a stable, decent, pluralistic society.
The death penalty was abolished. Hundreds of thousands of
poverty-stricken peasants were brought back from the dead.
Over 100,000 families were given title to land. Two thousand
schools were built. A quite remarkable literacy campaign reduced
illiteracy in the country to less than one seventh. Free education
was established and a free health service. Infant mortality
was reduced by a third. Polio was eradicated. The United States
denounced these achievements as Marxist - Leninist subversion.
In the view of the US government, a dangerous example was
being set. If Nicaragua was allowed to establish basic norms
of social and economic justice, if it was allowed to raise
the standards of health care and education and achieve social
unity and national self respect, neighbouring countries would
ask the same questions and do the same things. There was of
course at the time fierce resistance to th! e status quo in
El Salvador.
I spoke earlier about 'a tapestry
of lies' which surrounds us. President Reagan commonly described
Nicaragua as a 'totalitarian dungeon'. This was taken generally
by the media, and certainly by the British government, as
accurate and fair comment. But there was in fact no record
of death squads under the Sandinista government. There was
no record of torture. There was no record of systematic or
official military brutality. No priests were ever murdered
in Nicaragua. There were in fact three priests in the government,
two Jesuits and a Maryknoll missionary. The totalitarian dungeons
were actually next door, in El Salvador and Guatemala. The
United States had brought down the democratically elected
government of Guatemala in 1954 and it is estimated that over
200,000 people had been victims of successive military dictatorships.
Six of the most distinguished Jesuits in the world were viciously
murdered at the Central American University in San Salvador
in 1989 by a battalion of the Alcatl regiment trained at Fort
Benning, Georgia, USA. That extremely brave man Archbishop
Romero was assassinated while saying mass. It is estimated
that 75,000 people died. Why were they killed? They were killed
because they believed a better life was possible and should
be achieved. That belief immediately qualified them as communists.
They died because they dared to question the status quo, the
endless plateau of poverty, disease, degradation and oppression,
which had been their birthright. The United States finally
brought down the Sandinista government. It took some years
and considerable resistance but relentless economic persecution
and 30,000 dead finally undermined the spirit of the Nicaraguan
people. They were exhausted and poverty stricken once again.
The casinos moved back into the country. Free health and free
education were over. Big business returned with a vengeance.
'Democracy' had prevailed.
But this 'policy' was by no means
restricted to Central America. It was conducted throughout
the world. It was never-ending. And it is as if it never happened.
The United States supported and in many
cases engendered every right wing military dictatorship in
the world after the end of the Second World War. I refer to
Indonesia, Greece, Uruguay, Brazil, Paraguay, Haiti, Turkey,
the Philippines, Guatemala, El Salvador, and, of course, Chile.
The horror the United States inflicted upon Chile in 1973
can never be purged and can never be forgiven. Hundreds of
thousands of deaths took place throughout these countries.
Did they take place? And are they in all cases attributable
to US foreign policy?
The answer is yes they did take place
and they are attributable to American foreign policy. But
you wouldn't know it. It never happened. Nothing ever happened.
Even while it was happening! it wasn't happening. It didn't
matter. It was of no interest. The crimes of the United States
have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but
very few people have actually talked about them. You have
to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation
of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal
good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act
of hypnosis. I put to you that the United States is without
doubt the greatest show on the road. Brutal, indifferent,
scornful and ruthless it may be but it is also very clever.
As a salesman it is out on its own and its most saleable commodity
is self love. It's a winner. Listen to all American presidents
on television say the words, 'the American people', as in
the sentence,
'I say to the American people it is time to pray and to defend
the rights of the American people and I ask the American people
to trust their president in the action he is about to take
on ! behalf of the American people.'
It's a scintillating stratagem. Language is actually employed
to keep thought at bay. The words 'the American people' provide
a truly voluptuous cushion of reassurance. You don't need
to think. Just lie back on the cushion. The cushion may be
suffocating your intelligence and your critical faculties
but it's very comfortable. This does not apply of course to
the 40 million people living below the poverty line and the
2 million men and women imprisoned in the vast gulag of prisons,
which extends across the US.
The United States no longer bothers
about low intensity conflict. It no longer sees any point
in being reticent or even devious. It puts its cards on the
table without fear or favour. It quite simply doesn't give
a damn about the United Nations, international law or critical
dissent, which it regards as impotent and irrelevant. It also
has its own bleating little lamb tagging behind! d it on a
lead, the pathetic and supine Great Britain.
What has happened to our moral sensibility? Did we ever have
any? What do these words mean? Do they refer to a term very
rarely employed these days - conscience? A conscience to do
not only with our own acts but to do with our shared responsibility
in the acts of others? Is all this dead? Look at Guantanamo
Bay. Hundreds of people detained without charge for over three
years, with no legal representation or due process, technically
detained forever. This totally illegitimate structure is maintained
in defiance of the Geneva Convention. It is not only tolerated
but hardly thought about by what's called the 'international
community'. This criminal outrage is being committed by a
country, which declares itself to be 'the leader of the free
world'. Do we think about the inhabitants of Guantanamo Bay?
What does the media say about them? They pop up occasionally
- a small item on page six. They have been consigned to a
no man's ! land from which indeed they may never return. At
present many are on hunger strike, being force-fed, including
British residents. No niceties in these force-feeding procedures.
No sedative or anaesthetic. Just a tube stuck up your nose
and into your throat. You vomit blood. This is torture. What
has the British Foreign Secretary said about this? Nothing.
What has the British Prime Minister said about this? Nothing.
Why not? Because the United States has said: to criticise
our conduct in Guantanamo Bay constitutes an unfriendly act.
You're either with us or against us. So Blair shuts up.
The invasion of Iraq was a bandit
act, an act of blatant state terrorism, demonstrating absolute
contempt for the concept of international law. The invasion
was an arbitrary military action inspired by a series of lies
upon lies and gross manipulation of the media and therefore
of the public; an act intended to consolidate American military
and economic co! ntrol of the Middle East masquerading - as
a last resort - all other justifications having failed to
justify themselves - as liberation. A formidable assertion
of military force responsible for the death and mutilation
of thousands and thousands of innocent people. We have brought
torture, cluster bombs, depleted uranium, innumerable acts
of random murder, misery, degradation and death to the Iraqi
people and call it 'bringing freedom and democracy to the
Middle East'.
How many people do you have to kill
before you qualify to be described as a mass murderer and
a war criminal? One hundred thousand? More than enough, I
would have thought. Therefore it is just that Bush and Blair
be arraigned before the International Criminal Court of Justice.
But Bush has been clever. He has not ratified the International
Criminal Court of Justice. Therefore if any American soldier
or for that matter politician finds himself in the dock Bush
has warned th! at he will send in the marines. But Tony Blair
has ratified the Court and is therefore available for prosecution.
We can let the Court have his address if they're interested.
It is Number 10, Downing Street, London. Death in this context
is irrelevant. Both Bush and Blair place death well away on
the back burner. At least 100,000 Iraqis were killed by American
bombs and missiles before the Iraq insurgency began. These
people are of no moment. Their deaths don't exist. They are
blank. They are not even recorded as being dead.
'We don't do body counts,' said the American general Tommy
Franks.
Early in the invasion there was a
photograph published on the front page of British newspapers
of Tony Blair kissing the cheek of a little Iraqi boy. 'A
grateful child,' said the caption. A few days later there
was a story and photograph, on an inside page, of another
four-year-old boy with no arms. His family had been blown
up by a missile. He was the only survivor. 'When do I get
my arms back?' he asked. The story was dropped. Well, Tony
Blair wasn't holding him in his arms, nor the body of any
other mutilated child, nor the body of any bloody corpse.
Blood is dirty. It dirties your shirt and tie when you're
making a sincere speech on television. The
2,000 American dead are an embarrassment. They are transported
to their graves in the dark. Funerals are unobtrusive, out
of harm's way. The mutilated rot in their beds, some for the
rest of their lives. So the dead and the mutilated both rot,
in different kinds of graves.
Here is an extract from a poem by
Pablo Neruda:
I'M
EXPLAINING A FEW THINGS
And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with plan! es and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate.
Face
to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives.
Treacherous generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain:
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you will ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams a! nd leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land.
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
the blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
in the streets! *
Let me make it quite clear that in quoting from Neruda's
poem I am in no way comparing Republican Spain to Saddam Hussein's
Iraq. I quote Neruda because nowhere in contemporary poetry
have I read such a powerful visceral description of the bombing
of civilians.
I have said earlier that the United
States is now totally frank about putting its cards on the
table. That is the case. Its official declared policy is now
defined as 'full spectrum dominance'. That is not my term,
it is theirs. 'Full spectrum dominance' means control of land,
sea, air and space and all attendant resources. The United
States now occupies 702 military installations throughout
the world in 132 countries, with the honourable exception
of Sweden, of course. We don't quite know how they got there
but they are there all right.
The United States possesses 8,000
active and operational nuclear warheads. Two thousand are
on hair trigger alert, ready to be launched with 15 minutes
warning. It is developing new systems of nuclear force, known
as bunker busters. The British, ever cooperative, are intending
to replace their own nuclear missile, Trident. Who, I wonder,
are they aiming at? Osama bin Laden? You? Me? Joe Dokes? China?
Paris? Who knows? What we do know is that this infantile insanity
- the possession and threatened use of nuclear weapons - is
at the heart of present American political philosophy. We
must remind ourselves that the United States is on a permanent
military footing and shows no sign of relaxing it.
Many thousands, if not millions,
of people in the United States itself are demonstrably sickened,
shamed and angered by their government's actions, but as things
stand they are not a coherent political force - yet. But the
anxiety, uncertainty and fear which we can see growing daily
in the United States is unlikely to diminish.
I know that President Bush has many extremely competent speech
writers but I would like to volunteer for the job myself.
I propose the following short address which he can make on
television to the nation. I see him grave, hair carefully
combed, serious, winning, sincere, often beguiling, sometimes
employing a wry smile, curiously attractive, a man's man.
'God is good. God is great. God is good. My God is good. Bin
Laden's God is bad. His is a bad God. Saddam's God was bad,
except he didn't have one. He was a barbarian. We are not
barbarians. We don't chop people's heads off. We believe in
freedom. So does God. I am not a barbarian. I am the democratically
elected leader of a freedom-loving democracy. We are a compassionate
society. We give compassionate electrocution and compassionate
lethal injection. We are a great nation. I am not a dictator.
He is. I am not a barbarian. He is. And he is. They all are.
I possess moral authority. You see this fist? This is my moral
authority. And don't you forget it.'
A writer's life is a highly vulnerable,
almost naked activity. We don't have to weep about that. The
writer makes his choice and is stuck with it. But it is true
to say that you are open to all the winds, some of them icy
indeed. You are out on your own, out on a limb. You find no
shelter, no protection - unless you lie - in which case of
course you have constructed your own protection and, it could
be argued, become a politician. When we look into a mirror
we think the image that confronts us is accurate. But move
a millimetre and the image changes. We are actually looking
at a never-ending range of reflections. But sometime! s a
writer has to smash the mirror - for it is on the other side
of that mirror that the truth stares at us.
I believe that despite the enormous
odds which exist, unflinching, unswerving, fierce intellectual
determination, as citizens, to define the real truth of our
lives and our societies is a crucial obligation which devolves
upon us all. It is in fact mandatory.
If such a determination is not embodied in our political vision
we have no hope of restoring what is so nearly lost to us
- the dignity of man.
*
Extract from "I'm Explaining a Few Things"
translated by Nathaniel Tarn, from Pablo Neruda: Selected
Poems,
published by Jonathan Cape, London 1970.
Used by permission of The Random House Group Limited.
© The Nobel Foundation 2005 |
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