Bajica thought through all of that in the days that followed. After he had sifted through all the other impressions, the one thing that remained most important was that he, Bajica, was no longer hidden from the emperor! Now knew that he meant something to them. Perhaps this was the recognition he received for his acceptance of the foreign. In exchange for that acceptance, he would be given privileges and not be condemned to a slave’s life; though no one would ever be able to free him from his slave status, not even the Sultan himself.
What he had now been offered, was the chance to be the perfect slave.
Numbers applied to literature and books sometimes take on humorous characteristics and bring about absurd consequences. At a recently held local book fair, the organiser published a ranking of all the participants in the national press. There were a lot of things written in that missive, but the only thing that was not were the criteria used to rank the publishers: they were the ‘best’ of something, but no one knew at what. And then, after serious analysis and search for the reasons for not citing the essential criterion, it became clear that this detail was not even important as long as they were the ‘best’.
The time has come, or the place has been reached, for me to quote myself from the beginning of this book: ‘history loves the largest, the strongest, the most powerful and everything the most. This book, however, has a different purpose…’
That is why this book remains in the margins, on a side-track, while history allows the eternal values of popular ranking to be set alongside its stolid and dignified monuments. The popular stage2 is sly, it uses the weakness of history to reward all sorts of victors (even toward the fake, insignificant, grotesque...), and thus easily snuggles up to it. It whispers compliments to history that skilfully help win its heart. And charm is part of the place from where one speaks: in the so-called popular entertainment business, that place is called a podium, and in political activities – the stage.
It was only the social and economic transition process of individual European states that finally showed the dangerous similarity between politics (as future history) and popular entertainment skills (as the eternal now). That similarity, tried, tested and carried to the level of perfect impudence, or impudent perfection, proved to be the ideal union of forces joined against the book. Catchwords were quickly created, along with the interfacing of populism and elitism. And since it was selectively intended for a small number of people, it worked against democracy which is, it goes without saying, intended for a large number of people, if not for everyone. There you have it – transitional dialectics!
The fact that, included in world heritage, there are books that arrive in the present from the past which are certain to survive in the immediate and perhaps distant future, only solidified the positioning of the attacker and the argument for the long-lasting.
The battle between the day-long and even slightly longer turned into the battle of the loud against the quiet (the latter being that way because of proper upbringing and not because of fear), the voice of secrecy against the vox populi, of insult versus tolerance, of the aggressive against the customary, of war against peace.
Who will achieve victory? Well, the victors.
Hopefully we’ve learned that much.
After the Sultan’s departure from Edirne, Bajica began to think again about Husrev-pasha’s previous visit. He was attracted by the pasha’s careful preparation for a successful welcome; setting the stage for the Sultan’s arrival. Everything had been done so that nothing would surprise the ruler, inconvenience him, or even disappoint him; but rather that each detail would await him as something expected, familiar and certain, in order to convince him that everything that happened was under control. Bajica realised that all this happened according to a plan made by the pasha. Furthermore, he concluded that the ability to foresee events was of exceptional importance for those in power: if one could only foresee all the possibilities, whether national or personal, and then make decisions that matched the possibilities and goals with the needs of a situation, then one could also determine the path to achieving those goals. This could, therefore, be called planning. Or politics.
In precisely the same way, one could avoid all the undesirable consequences of future actions. By choosing what he anticipates, a man can avoid making mistakes, unnecessarily wasting time, and thereby – if a decision of state is at stake – losing too much money, too many human lives or even too much territory. This same approach, if used without explanation in front of people who were not aware of the background, could seem like prophesying:
If one knows what will happen, one also knows what attitude to take toward the event.
What he now termed as Deli Husrev-pasha’s ‘spying’ visit, could be divided into two subcategories. The capacity for planning was one of them, and publicly showed the ruler’s power over events. It perhaps even reflected the wisdom with which all human relationships can be resolved, from incidental encounters at the bazaar to those among rulers and entire countries.
The second category was perhaps less transparent and was certainly not for the public. It had the intention of revealing faults rather than qualities, looking for the mistakes made during the visit rather than the successes. It looked for the vulnerable places so that, if it ever became necessary, they could be used. Like a sabre hanging above a victim’s head that, at any moment and for any reason, could suddenly drop. It would be like an enduring document written in indelible ink, stored in an invisible place from where it could be made public easily, quickly and at any time.
This must be the path toward the creation of the superior individual and a noble empire. He decided, whenever it was possible, to attempt to ‘spy’ on himself. Both secretly and in public.
It was only much later, when the remarkably more subtly veiled knowledge about ruling a country became available to him, that he realised just how correctly he had sensed the importance of this kind of spying; recognised for the first time, with the seemingly accidental intertwining of events and the destiny of individuals and entire peoples.
What would it be like if certain words, expressions or phrases from the current political glossary were applied to literary language? Here is one of my favourite words: sustainable, to which is added the necessary element, in truth, something to do with the future. Now, just imagine what kind of tomfoolery comes about when this sort of sustainability is used to augment the word ‘history’.
It is very important for us to know, according to the interpretations of European political institutions, what accompanying instrumentation goes along with such an artificial phrase. Along with them, most often a sort of intimidation occurs: if you do a and b, you will receive y and z, in which case your project is sustainable. That is the essential meaning. Certainly none of the authors of this explanation would ever admit this, but would rather talk about fulfilling various long-term conditions, not because they are blackmailing you, but rather because of the very success of the project. More succinctly, they would explain to you that, when deciding to support a program, they create a projection about its realistic future, about its ability to last and its most certain survival. Where is the truth in all that? It could be said – most likely somewhere in between the two explanations. However, it is not. It is actually closer