The Return of Lanny Budd

by Upton Sinclair

  All this time he was sitting on a very small stool. His buttocks were pressed down over its sides and they began to ache. He had to keep his balance in spite of a tendency to sway, and that meant that the muscles of his buttocks were continually pulling this way and that; and they too became exhausted. His back ached, and his injured shoulder and his injured elbow.

  There was only one thing he could do: ‘Other refuge have I none,/Hangs my helpless soul on Thee!’ Lanny kept saying over and over, ‘God is helping me! God is helping me!’ He no longer had the least interest in metaphysical theorising about it; he did not care whether it was suggestion or autosuggestion. Man’s extremity was proving to be God’s opportunity, and God was taking advantage of it. Lanny was saying the words, and he was meaning them with all the power of his being. ‘Out of the depths have I cried unto Thee, O Lord!’

  What this meant was that his attention was concentrated upon the idea of help, and his pain receded into the background of his consciousness; when he realised that this was happening he experienced a sense of victory over his tormentors. After all, they were not going to be able to break him down! And with this thought came a new access of determination; he concentrated with yet more intensity upon the idea of help. Jesus had told his disciples: ‘And nothing shall by any means hurt you’. He said, ‘Be not afraid, only believe’. And the saints and martyrs through the ages had proved the soundness of this formula. Modern psychologists will agree with you, provided that you will put it in their language. Not many are able to practice it, but one of the wisest of them, William James, wrote a book on the subject, entitled, with proper scientific aloofness, The Varieties of Religious Experience.

  Of course Lanny kept all this in his secret soul. Nothing would have exasperated his tormentor more than to know that his victim was praying. Both Engels and Lenin had declared, ‘Religion is the opium of the people.’ and that had been graven in huge letters in a public place in Moscow. Lanny could have used some opium right now, and this opium of the spirit was his without price. Apparently the inquisitor realised that something strange was going on, for he would say with exasperation, ‘Pay attention to what I am saying!’ Lanny would answer humbly, ‘I’m very weak, Citizen Examiner’; and to himself he would repeat the words of St. Paul, oft quoted by Parsifal Dingle, ‘I will not fear what man shall do to me’.

  X

  Lanny could not give all his thoughts to prayer; he had to think about what he was answering. He knew that this was a fishing expedition, and the man was a skilled and experienced operator. Lanny didn’t want to be hooked, and he would have to collect his confused thoughts and realise what he was saying. The man came back again and again to Fritz Meissner. He had the idea that Fritz had taken a trip into Poland and that Lanny had had something to do with it; or was he fishing to find out? Lanny had the problem, Was Fritz Meissner still alive or was he dead? If the latter, Lanny could say anything about him and put any blame upon him. But because he might still be alive Lanny must admit nothing.

  What he had to do was to be the art expert, the Kunstsachverständiger, and he must insist upon that as his only interest and purpose in visiting Europe. On the subject of his profession he would pour out names, dates, and prices. He knew this would annoy the inquisitor and that he would be called a ‘profiteer’, a ‘looter’, a ‘money hog’. But he could guess that in his secret heart the inquisitor might envy him, not merely his expert knowledge but also the profit he made out of it. This was an apparatchik who doubtless was crowded with his family in one or two rooms in a tenement, and when he had to buy a new pair of shoes the family would have to skimp on their food.

  All this tumult of thoughts and feelings went on in Lanny’s mind. He fought the good fight until he could fight no longer; his pain was so acute that he could no longer deny it, and he was about to fall off the stool. But then he bethought himself of a new idea. It would hardly be reverent to suggest that it had come as a result of prayer; perhaps it was the devil this time. Anyhow, he suddenly declared, ‘Citizen Examiner, I have to go to the toilet’.

  Wonderful, wonderful! The man replied immediately, ‘Very well, Budd’. He pressed a button, and two warders came—never was a prisoner entrusted to one alone. In Stalin’s realm there always had to be somebody to watch everybody. When Lanny tried to rise and found he couldn’t stand, the men took him by the arms and supported him and led him out of the door and down the corridor. The act of helping a fellow human to walk is an act of kindness, and William James, the psychologist, has told us that when we perform the actions of an emotion we experience the emotion. It seemed to Lanny that the warders were kind; but Lanny was no longer putting his trust in humans and continued diligently with his prayers. He took his time, as much time as he dared; it was a blessed relief to stand, to walk slowly, to let the blood flow back into the muscles that had been pressed out of shape. ‘Danke schön, Citizen Examiner’, he said as he tottered back to the torture room; and to himself he said, ‘God is helping me. God is helping me’.

  The light continued, and no pleading or arguing caused the inquisitor to press the button. He was becoming more and more irritated; he realised that he was not getting anywhere, that Lanny was not confessing anything, and he began to bluster and threaten. Again Lanny demanded to see the Prosecutor, or to send him a note immediately. The interview turned into a series of arguments about physical theories on the nature of light and about the legal proprieties, the meaning of the Soviet laws which forbade the abuse of prisoners. Was a man who had been brought into Soviet territory against his will subject to Soviet law, or was he under the protection of American law, or was he an outlaw entitled to no protection? The question became metaphysical and might have taxed the intellectual capacities of the International Court of Justice at The Hague. The climax of the discussions came after what must have been a full day’s continuous interrogation. Lanny began to waver on his stool, and then everything faded out and he fell off onto his sore shoulder.

  27 MAN’S EXTREMITY

  I

  When Lanny’s wavering consciousness came back again he was lying on an iron cot which had a straw mattress and seemed of heavenly softness. Somebody was lifting him by the shoulders and trying to give him something to drink. Presently he was able to swallow, and that was another blessed relief. Little by little his senses returned, and he realised that he was not back in that concrete box or coffin; so presumably he was not going to be frozen and baked again. He began saying his prayers right away, and this time there was not merely appeal but also thanksgiving. Two men were in the room, and, incredible as it might seem, one of them was feeding him hot cabbage soup with soft bread in it, feeding him with a large spoon and holding up his head and shoulders with one hand and saying politely, ‘Kooshai’, to encourage him to swallow it, ‘O Lord, how great are Thy works! and Thy thoughts are very deep’.

  Under such stimulus Lanny’s strength came back, and he was able to sit up and take the bowl of soup into his lap and feed himself. He was not exactly a devotee of cabbage soup, but he knew that the Russians lived on it and were a sturdy people; at the moment he could have thought of nothing that would please him more. He swallowed the last drop, and when the man told him to lie down he did so. When he heard the iron door clang it did not trouble him, because he wanted nothing in the world so much as to be let alone. He closed his tired eyes and put his mind upon renewing his faith in God, and it wasn’t more than half a minute before he was in a dead sleep.

  How long he slept he had no means of knowing. It seemed to him that it had been only a few minutes before there was someone shaking him and saying, ‘Ispitanie’—examination. Lanny knew that he wasn’t rested, and it was torture to him to be dragged out of that sleep; but he was shaken again and again and finally dragged to a sitting position. The word ‘poshol!’ was shouted into his deliberately deaf ears; with the help of much pulling he was forced to his feet and was led staggering down the corridor and back into that same room 814.

  Ther
e was a new man now; they were going to work on him in relays. Each new examiner would have had a night’s or a day’s sleep; he would have had a meal, he would be freshly spruced and shaved. Lanny had not been shaved and must have looked like a bum out of Skid Row. He was seated on the same stool, and before him was the same desk, and on it was the same dossier, from which passages were read to him now and then. But the light was not turned on!

  This one was elderly, with grey hair; he was stoutish and a bit slouchy, but he seemed kind and spoke in a gentle voice. He was speaking English without too heavy an accent; that would make matters easier. Lanny guessed that, having found that severity did not work, they were going to try humanity.

  The man explained in some detail that the previous procedure had been due to an unfortunate mistake. It was no part of the programme to starve a prisoner or to let him be overcome by exhaustion. It had been assumed that Lanny had eaten the piece of bread which had been placed in the box with him. Lanny said that he had been given no time to eat it, and the reply was that it had been the jailers’ duty to stay and see him eat it, and that the accused should not have been taken to the examination room until it had been eaten. The jailers had been duly disciplined, and if the mistake was repeated it was the prisoner’s right to call attention to it. Lanny said with due humility, ‘Thank you, Citizen Examiner’.

  II

  ‘Mr Budd’, began this elderly one, doing his victim special honour, ‘I am older than you, and I have seen more of this very sad world. I speak to you in a fatherly way, and I beg you to do me the honour to weigh my words carefully’.

  ‘Certainly, Citizen Examiner’, said Lanny, not to be outdone. To himself he said, ‘God is helping me’.

  ‘You come from a land far overseas which has never been in peril from enemies; but I live in a land surrounded by deadly foes which seek its destruction, Our country has no natural defences—only the determination of the Soviet people’.

  Said Lanny, ‘It happens that only a short time ago the same words were spoken to me by Graf Stubendorf, a German, concerning his country’.

  ‘It may be true in both cases. It is a burden which nature or fate has placed upon our shoulders, and we are unable to cast it off. Anyhow, our regime is fighting for its existence, and we assert the elemental right of self-defence. This I assume you will concede’.

  ‘I do, Citizen Examiner’.

  ‘Millions, tens of millions, of deadly enemies seek the destruction of our regime. They are tireless, unsleeping; they work day and night by every kind of subtle device. They work in the dark, they invent clever camouflage to conceal themselves and their purposes. To meet their efforts requires ceaseless vigilance on our part, time and energy which we would gladly give to the building up of our productive powers, but we dare not. You admit that, Mr Budd?’

  ‘I admit it’, Lanny conceded. He was prepared to admit anything but his own guilt. ‘But may it not possibly be, Citizen Examiner, that you sometimes exaggerate the danger?’

  ‘Sometimes, I grant you. We are only human and we are bound to make mistakes. That is the reason I plead with you. We may be making a mistake in your case. We may be over-suspicious. I personally admit it, but what can I do about it? This case’—the examiner laid his hand upon the large dossier—‘this case is handed to me. My superiors say to me, “These are the facts. You will proceed upon this basis. There will be no respite for this man until he admits the truth and names his confederates”. And what can I do—I, a humble subordinate? Is it for me to judge my superiors? Is it for me to suspect them? Who am I to go to our great Soviet regime with all its wisdom and power and say that with all its resources for collecting facts and interpreting them—who am I to say, “You are mistaken”? Surely you must see that, Mr Budd’.

  ‘I see it, Citizen Examiner’; and again, ‘God is helping me’.

  ‘Very well then, I am here. This is my duty, this is my livelihood. I have a wife and two children dependent upon my labours’.

  ‘I also have a wife and two children, Citizen Examiner’.

  ‘Very well, that makes a total of eight different reasons why we should be considerate of each other and come to an agreement. I am told, “Make this man confess”, and my career depends upon my succeeding; if I fail, I lose my standing. I go down, and some other man comes up—the man who will know how to make you give way. It may even be that suspicion will fall upon me and that I will take your place as a prisoner and be ordered to confess what motives have caused me, a trusted agent of the M.G.B., our Berlin organisation, to turn traitor to my native land. It may be my turn to state who were the conspirators who put this evil idea into my mind’.

  ‘I quite understand you point of view’, said Lanny, and to himself he said, ‘Molasses catches more flies than vinegar’.

  III

  The inquisitor put a good deal of feeling into this discussion, and if he was not sincere he was a well-trained actor. Lanny was trying hard to think of some role that would carry on the little drama and keep the light from being turned into his eyes.

  ‘So’, continued the man, ‘I am pleading with you to come to some agreement with me. You are my prisoner. I have not been told how that happened, but here you are. It embarrasses me; I see that you are a gentleman, and I hate to be rude or to cause discomfort. I speak to you as one gentleman to another. I would speak as a friend if you would let me. Why can’t we make things easy, each for the other?’

  Lanny answered with due humility, ‘There is only one obstacle in the way, Citizen Examiner. I feel a moral obligation to tell the truth, and it hurts me to tell falsehoods’.

  ‘Truth is an abstraction, Mr Budd. It is a relative thing. What is true for one person is not true for another. What is true at one time may not be true at another. For me the truth is what is in this dossier; let it be the truth for you today, while you are here in this place. Tomorrow when you go out into your own world you may laugh and say, “It is nonsense, I signed it to fool them”’.

  Said Lanny, ‘Citizen Examiner, it seems to me highly unlikely that a man who confesses to having conspired to bring about the death of Marshal Stalin will ever go out to his own world again’.

  ‘If that is all that troubles you, Mr Budd, accept my assurance that you are mistaken. To you the charge of having tried to take the life of Stalin seems like a monstrous thing; you cannot understand that to us it is one of the commonplaces. I do not exaggerate when I say that we uncover thousands of such attempts every year. A large part of the civilised world is trying to take the life of Stalin; they are devising ever new and more ingenious measures. Lenin was shot, as you know; and then Kirov, who was Stalin’s best friend and closest associate. A large percentage of the executions which you have read about in the Soviet Union have been of persons who have made efforts of one sort or another to take the life of our beloved great vozhd’.

  ‘That is exactly the reason for my fears, Citizen Examiner. I do not wish to be executed’.

  ‘Ah, but Mr Budd, you fail to allow for the difference in the circumstances. For a citizen of the Soviet Union to make such an attempt is the vilest treason; but for a foreigner it is entirely different. For a foreigner, unless he is a party member, it is the most natural thing in the world to desire the death of Stalin. We take it for granted that the whole capitalist world desires that death, and if we catch a foreigner at it we are concerned with only one question: What Soviet citizens or what Communists are involved? When we have that information from him we let him go. We are sure he will not come back, and what he does outside is only what he has always been doing and what all the others are doing. It means nothing to us; we watch our own gates. Ages ago we learned to keep foreigners out, and the few that we let in we watch day and night; we watch everyone who speaks to them. I shall be watched because I have been in a room alone with you and have had hours of conversation’.

  ‘Have you thought of the possibility that this room may have some sort of listening device in it?’

  The g
enial inquisitor shrugged his shoulders. ‘My future depends upon just one thing’, he said. ‘Whether or, not I succeed in persuading you to give way’.

  A lifelong training in urbanity made it possible for Lanny to smile even in the midst of the pain of sitting on a tiny stool. ‘You have been very persuasive’, he remarked. ‘If you wish, I will give you a certificate to that effect’.

  ‘There is only one certificate that would be of any use, Mr Budd, and that would be for you to sign the list of charges I shall present to you. I am begging you as one man of the world to another to face the facts of the situation and choose the way that is easiest for both of us. I don’t want be to disagreeable or to threaten you, but it is my duty to tell you that you cannot possibly succeed in resistance. I assure you that in my years of experience nobody has ever succeeded in that effort; the possibility has been completely excluded. We have employed some of the world’s top scientists in many different departments, both of physiology and psychology. We know how the human body works, we know its chemistry. We know how the mind works, we understand the chemistry of the brain, and we do not fool ourselves with any idealistic notions. We know how to bring you to a state where your brain cells will be in utter confusion, every one working against all the others. You will not know right from wrong, you will not know truth from falsehood, you will not know whether you are standing on your head or your feet. What you have had so far is just a foretaste. It will go on day and night for weeks, for months if necessary. We have had persons who have stood out for as long as six weeks, but in the end, without exception, they have confessed and signed their confessions. In many cases they have come into open court and made those confessions. They have done this because we have persuaded them that the good of the party is transcendent to their own good, or to that abstract nothing which they call the truth. The truth for Soviet citizens is what the party needs and requires. For you, a foreigner and a non-party member, we desire no such public appearance; for you we desire only the names of the Russians who are guilty’.