Positive Liberty

“Gentlemen, as you all know, we have a problem,” said the Information Minister.

The scene: a dictatorship. It doesn’t really matter which one. All that matters is that the leadership is assembled, and that for once they are talking freely. The iPods are stowed, and the cognac is out. The cigars are Cuban, of course.

“We have a problem,” the Information Minister insisted.

“Traitors in our midst?” asked the Patriotism Czar.

“Well, yes,” said the Information Minister.

“Give me their names,” said the Director of Secret Police. “They will be gone before Friday, I guarantee it.”

“Not so fast,” said the Autocrat. “What, exactly, did these traitors do?”

“Come now, it hardly matters,” said the Director of Thuggery. “We’ll finish them off the old fashioned way, and no one will notice.”

“Maybe not,” said the Autocrat. “But I’m feeling… curious. Not sure why, but I’d like to know more, just this once.”

“Three cheers for curiosity!” said the Patriotism Czar. “It is the policy of our Enlightened Leader!”

“Not so fast,” said the Autocrat. “It doesn’t pay to be too curious.”

“Three cheers for not being too curious!” said the Patriotism Czar. “It is the policy of our — ”

“Enough!” said the Autocrat. “What did these traitors do?”

“They wrote things,” said the Information Minister. “On the Internet.” His voice had descended to a whisper.

“What kind of things?” asked the Autocrat.

“They’ve said that you’re a tyrant, and that the state religion is false, and that your government is just a bunch of thugs and bullies.”

“Outrageous,” said the Director of Thuggery. “How can they possibly think that we are thugs?

“How indeed,” said the Autocrat.

“The surest way to prevent anyone from thinking ill of us is to arrest and imprison anyone who does,” said the Director of Secret Police. “And just to be extra sure, perhaps we can torture and beat them as well. We’ll show them that we’re not bullies!”

“Hmmm,” said the Autocrat, and he took a long, meditative draw on his cigar. He had learned from long years in office that laconic statements were often the most useful.

“Hmmm,” he repeated. He blew a smoke ring in the air.

“Hmmm,” said the Patriotism Czar. With enthusiasm.

“I have a question, if I may,” said the Information Minister.

“Hmmm?” said the Autocrat.

“What if — I mean, let’s just imagine for a moment — what if there were no Bureau of Truncheon-Wielders, no Committee of Electrode-Based Inquiry, no Office of Oubliettes, and no Statist/Sadist ad hoc meetings on every third Tuesday of the month? Just suppose for a moment that we didn’t go in for that kind of stuff.”

“What are you getting at?” asked the Director of Thuggery, who apprehended, in the dim manner with which he apprehended anything, that his job might be at risk.

“Imagine a state that didn’t bother arresting or abusing dissidents.”

“None at all?” asked the Director of Secret Police.

“None at all,” said the Minister of Information. “Not even the religious dissidents.”

“But… but they’re the worst competition of all — ” said the Director of Thuggery. Immediately he regretted it, for he had said too much.

“Why, that would be horrible!” said the Patriotism Czar. “If we never oppressed anyone, then people would read what the dissidents wrote, and they would conclude that the government was full of thugs. Which, in that case, wouldn’t even be true.”

“Much better the opposite situation,” said the Director of Secret Police, “where the government in fact is full of thugs, and where, thanks to the sublime efficacy of the thugs themselves, absolutely no one believes it.”

“Oh, much better indeed,” said the Autocrat, who had heard what he wanted to hear.

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