“The essay says that no liberal government can survive without becoming authoritarian and therefore tyrannical. That when extremism enters the political picture from either end of the spectrum, it must either win or be imitated by the elements that do win. And that extremism, meaning assassinations, repression, and so on, are now a part of our political picture. What the essay doesn’t say, but what is the inescapable conclusion whether it says so or not, is that there’s no longer hope for democracy, a dictatorship is coming from either the left or the right, it can’t be avoided, the only thing to do is fold our hands and wait for it.”
“That doesn’t sound like Robert,” she said.
“I told you, he doesn’t say that. He says everything leading up to it, and stops. And denies the conclusion, if it’s pointed out to him.” Bradford waved a hand, saying, “You don’t have to defend Robert, I’ll agree with almost anything you say. But the point is, there’s a climate of opinion in this country, a fatalism waiting for an end to freedom, and when even an intelligent man like Robert can be subsumed by it, the outlook is becoming desperate.”
“You mean he might be right, after all.”
“The self-fulfilling prophecy. Of course, that’s exactly what I mean. And it’s fear that’s behind the whole growing mood of exhaustion and despair. Fear of everything, and since Vietnam even the fear of responsibility. How nice not to have to make any more decisions.”
“Then what can be done?”
“We can try to find the root of the fear,” he said. “We can try to trace the threads of paranoia back to their origin. And it seems to me that all our domestic fears, of blacks and of Communists and of right-wing extremists and all the rest of it, are being blown up out of proportion because they’re being fed by our global fears. And that most of the global fears everywhere, not just in this country but all around the world, can be traced back to one source. Do you know where that is? Do you know where we’ll find the seat of unreasoning fear in the world today?”
She shook her head.
“China,” he said.
She frowned, completely at a loss. He had seemed to be talking about something entirely different. China? What did China have to do with the shutting down of Ramparts, or Robert’s article, or a new wave of repression in the United States?
But Bradford was nodding, saying, “Yes, it’s China. Communist China is terrified of everybody in the world. As the most recently industrialized superpower, she is terrified of the older and still stronger superpowers around her. She is afraid that weaker but more sophisticated nations will take advantage of her. She is afraid of everything and everybody, and the threads of China’s fear stretch out and make everybody else fearful, too. If it weren’t for China’s fear, the United States and the Soviet Union would have attained a true and viable rapprochement by now, because it’s inevitable. But the Soviets are afraid to show weakness toward the West to their Chinese allies, and the United States is afraid of Russia because China is her ally, and the barriers stay up between the nations. And because the barriers are up between the nations, the internal barriers stay up within the nations. And once again freedom becomes a luxury we fear we cannot afford.”
“Well,” she said, “if the source of all the trouble lies outside the United States, there’s nothing we can do at all.”
“Perhaps there is,” he said. He looked away from her, leftward at the bookcases. “Do you remember when the Chinese came here two months ago, to give me Kwong Lan Quey’s suicide note?”
“I certainly do.”
“They also gave me to know that they would be interested in keeping the lines of communication open, if I was willing.” He smiled crookedly at the bookcases. “Since it was their own man who had turned out to be faithless in that Paris meeting, it put me in the unusual position of being a Westerner they felt might be trusted.”
“You’ve kept in touch with them?”
“I have.” He looked back at Evelyn, smiling more broadly. “Undercover, I’m afraid. It’s all been very Foreign Intrigue, with me slipping letters to them and them slipping letters to me.”
“But why? Why do it that way?”
“The paranoia I’ve been talking about. I wanted to be sure I would remain an independent citizen, that I would not be turned into a government spokesman despite myself. So I’ve kept our watchdogs, and everybody else, from knowing about it.”
“And?”
“They want me to come to China.”
“Come—? You mean, take a trip to China?”
“Yes. Their trust for me has grown, I think, and they want me to come for high-level talks. Completely unofficial, not as a representative of my government, but simply as one of the few, the very few, well-known and responsible Westerners whom they think they can trust and believe.”
“And you want to go,” she said.
“Of course. Would any man not want to go, any man sincere in his desire for peace in the world? Because peace in the world, true peace, is the clue to everything. End the need for this permanent military stance, and America will revert with joy to its original concepts of individual liberty and individual responsibility.”
“But—” Her mind was whirling, she was no longer sure what was what. “Do you think the government would let you go? And what if the Chinese kidnapped you, what if they wouldn’t let you come back?”
“There, you see?” He pointed at her, grinning. “Paranoia again. Why should Red China, or any other country in the world, kidnap a seventy-one-year-old retired fuddy-duddy? What good would it do them? You didn’t think the French would kidnap me back in June, and we have at least as many differences with the French as we have with the Chinese, so why should you believe the Chinese would do anything so pointless?”
“All right. But what about our government?”
He sobered immediately, saying, “That’s the problem, of course.”
“Have you talked to anybody yet?”
“No. And I’m not going to. Because I know what they’d say.”
“They won’t let you.”
“That’s right. You remember how much trouble I had, getting them to let me meet a Chinese in Europe. And even then it was so hedged with conditions—” He shook his head, saying, “No, there’s no point in talking with anybody in Washington. And you see what that means, don’t you?”
“That’s impossible, too,” she said. “But that’s such a shame, because you might be—”
“But it isn’t impossible,” he said. “Any more than the private correspondence is impossible. I’ve been doing it.”
She frowned at him, not sure she could possibly be understanding his meaning. “But you couldn’t sneak away,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Well, in the first place, they’d know it right away, if you disappeared, and they’d find out. They’d stop you from going, if they could, and they’d be very angry with you when you came back, if they didn’t manage to stop you.”
“I know that,” he said. “And I believe it’s a risk worth taking. It’s possible I would never be able to come back, not in the few years I may have left to me. I’ve considered that for quite some time.”
“You mean, stay there? Forever?”
“If necessary.”
“But you’re talking about defecting!”
“Not at all! I’m talking about a peace mission, I’m talking about a private individual making a voyage into the very eye of the storm of paranoia that threatens us all.”