Writing the Truth
Nowadays, anyone who wishes to combat lies and ignorance and to write the truth must overcome at
least ﬁve difﬁculties. He must have the courage to write the truth when truth is everywhere opposed; the
keenness to recognize it, although it is everywhere concealed; the skill to manipulate it as a weapon; the
judgment to select those in whose hands it will be effective; and the cunning to spread the truth among
such persons. These are formidable problems for writers living under Fascism, but they exist also for
those writers who have ﬂed or been exiled; they exist even for writers working in countries where civil
1 The Courage to Write the Truth
It seems obvious that whoever writes should write the truth in the sense that he ought not to suppress
or conceal truth or write something deliberately untrue. He ought not to cringe before the powerful,
nor betray the weak. It is, of course, very hard not to cringe before the powerful, and it is highly
advantageous to betray the weak. To displease the possessors means to become one of the dispossessed.
To renounce payment for work may be the equivalent of giving up the work, and to decline fame when it
is offered by the mighty may mean to decline it forever. This takes courage.
Times of extreme oppression are usually times when there is much talk about high and lofty matters.
At such times it takes courage to write of low and ignoble matters such as food and shelter for workers;
it takes courage when everyone else is ranting about the vital importance of sacriﬁce. When all sorts
of honors are showered upon the peasants it takes courage to speak of machines and good stock feeds
which would lighten their honorable labor. When every radio station is blaring that a man without
knowledge or education is better than one who has studied, it takes courage to ask: better for whom?
When all the talk is of perfect and imperfect races, it takes courage to ask whether it not hunger and
ignorance and war that produce deformities.
And it also takes courage to tell the truth about oneself, about one’s own defeat. Many of the perse-
cuted lose their capacity for seeing their own mistakes. It seems to them that the persecution itself is
the greatest injustice. The persecutors are wicked simply because they persecute; the persecuted suffer
because of their goodness. But this goodness has been beaten, defeated, suppressed; it was therefore a
weak goodness, a bad, indefensible, unreliable goodness. For it will not do to grant that goodness must
be weak as rain must be wet. It takes courage to say that the good were defeated not because they were
good, but because they were weak.
Naturally, in the struggle with falsehood we must write the truth, and this truth must not be a lofty
and ambiguous generality. When it is said of someone, “He spoke the truth,” this implies that some
people or many people or least one person said something unlike the truth—a lie or a generality—but he
spoke the truth, he said something practical, factual, undeniable, something to the point.
It takes little courage to mutter a general complaint, in a part of the world where complaining is still
permitted, about the wickedness of the world and the triumph of barbarism, or to cry boldly that the
victory of the human spirit is assured. There are many who pretend that cannons are aimed at them
when in reality they are the target merely of opera glasses. They shout their generalized demands to a
world of friends and harmless persons. They insist upon a generalized justice for which they have never
done anything; they ask for generalized freedom and demand a share of the booty which they have long
since enjoyed. They think that truth is only what sounds nice. If truth should prove to be something
statistical, dry, or factual, something difﬁcult to ﬁnd and requiring study, they do not recognize it as truth; it does not intoxicate them. They possess only the external demeanor of truth-tellers. The trouble
with them is: they do not know the truth.
2 The Keenness to Recognize the Truth
Since it is hard to write the truth because truth is everywhere suppressed, it seems to most people to
be a question of character whether the truth is written or not written. They believe that courage alone
sufﬁces. They forget the second obstacle: the difﬁculty of ﬁnding the truth. It is impossible to assert
that the truth is easily ascertained.
First of all we strike trouble in determining what truth is worth the telling. For example, before the
eyes of the whole world one great civilized nation after the other falls into barbarism. Moreover, everyone
knows that the domestic war which is being waged by the most ghastly methods can at any moment be
converted into a foreign war which may well leave our continent a heap of ruins. This, undoubtedly, is
one truth, but there are others. Thus, for example, it is not untrue that chairs have seats and that rain
falls downward. Many poets write truths of this sort. They are like a painter adorning the walls of a
sinking ship with a still life. Our ﬁrst difﬁculty does not trouble them and their consciences are clear.
Those in power cannot corrupt them, but neither are they disturbed by the cries of the oppressed; they
go on painting. The senselessness of their behavior engenders in them a “profound” pessimism which
they sell at good prices; yet such pessimism would be more ﬁtting in one who observes these masters
and their sales. At the same time it is not easy to realize that their truths are truths about chairs or
rain; they usually sound like truths about important things. But on closer examination it is possible to
see that they say merely: a chair is a chair; and: no one can prevent the rain from falling down.
They do not discover the truths that are worth writing about. On the other hand, there are some who
deal only with the most urgent tasks, who embrace poverty and do not fear rulers, and who nevertheless
cannot ﬁnd the truth. These lack knowledge. They are full of ancient superstitions, with notorious
prejudices that in bygone days were often put into beautiful words. The world is too complicated for
them; they do not know the facts; they do not perceive relationships. In addition to temperament,
knowledge, which can be acquired, and methods, which can be learned, are needed. What is necessary
for all writers in this age of perplexity and lightening change is a knowledge of the materialistic dialectic
of economy and history. This knowledge can be acquired from books and from practical instruction, if
the necessary diligence is applied. Many truths can be discovered in simpler fashion, or at least portions
of truths, or facts that lead to the discovery of truths. Method is good in all inquiry, but it is possible
to make discoveries without using any method—indeed, even without inquiry. But by such a casual
procedure one does not come to the kind of presentation of truth which will enable men to act on the
basis of that presentations. People who merely record little facts are not able to arrange the things of
the world so that they can be easily controlled. Yet truth has this function alone and no other. Such
people cannot cope with the requirement that they write the truth.
If a person is ready to write the truth and able to recognize it, there remain three more difﬁculties.
3 The Skill to Manipulate the Truth as a Weapon
The truth must be spoken with a view to the results it will produce in the sphere of action. As a specimen
of a truth from which no results, or the wrong ones, follow, we can cite the widespread view that bad
conditions prevail in a number of countries as a result of barbarism. In this view, Fascism is a wave of
barbarism which has descended upon some countries with the elemental force of a natural phenomenon.
According to this view, Fascism is a new, third power beside (and above) capitalism and socialism;
not only the socialist movement but capitalism as well might have survived without the intervention of
Fascism. And so on. This is, of course, a Fascist claim; to accede to it is a capitulation to Fascism.
Fascism is a historic phase of capitalism; in this sense it is something new and at the same time old.
In Fascist countries capitalism continues to exist, but only in the form of Fascism; and Fascism can be
combated as capitalism alone, as the nakedest, most shameless, most oppressive, and most treacherous
form of capitalism.
But how can anyone tell the truth about Fascism, unless he is willing to speak out against capitalism,
which brings it forth? What will be the practical results of such truth? Those who are against Fascism without being against capitalism, who lament over the barbarism
that comes out of barbarism, are like people who wish to eat their veal without slaughtering the calf.
They are willing to eat the calf, but they dislike the sight of blood. They are easily satisﬁed if the butcher
washes his hands before weighing the meat. They are not against the property relations which engender
barbarism; they are only against barbarism itself. They raise their voices against barbarism, and they
do so in countries where precisely the same property relations prevail, but where the butchers wash
their hands before weighing the meat.
Outcries against barbarous measures may be effective as long as the listeners believe that such
measures are out of the question in their own countries. Certain countries are still able to maintain their
property relations by methods that appear less violent than those used in other countries. Democracy
still serves in these countries to achieve the results for which violence is needed in others, namely, to
guarantee private ownership of the means of production. The private monopoly of factories, mines, and
land creates barbarous conditions everywhere, but in some places these conditions do not so forcibly
strike the eye. Barbarism strikes the eye only when it happens that monopoly can be protected only by
Some countries, which do not yet ﬁnd it necessary to defend their barbarous monopolies by dis-
pensing with the formal guarantees of a constitutional state, as well as with such amenities as art,
philosophy, and literature, are particularly eager to listen to visitors who abuse their native lands be-
cause those amenities are denied there. They gladly listen because they hope to derive from what they
hear advantages in future wars. Shall we say that they have recognized the truth who, for example,
loudly demand an unrelenting struggle against Germany “because that country is now the true home of
Evil in our day, the partner of hell, the abode of the Antichrist”? We should rather say that these are
foolish and dangerous people. For the conclusion to be drawn from this nonsense is that since poison
gas and bombs do not pick out the guilty, Germany must be exterminated—the whole country and all
The man who does not know the truth expresses himself in lofty, general, and imprecise terms. He
shouts about “the” German, he complains about Evil in general, and whoever hears him cannot make
out what to do. Shall he decide not to be a German? Will hell vanish if he himself is good? The silly
talk about the barbarism that comes out of barbarism is also of this kind. The source of barbarism is
barbarism, and it is combated by culture, which comes from education. All this is put in general terms;
it is not meant to be a guide to action and is in reality addressed to no one.
Such vague descriptions point to only a few links in the chain of causes. Their obscurantism conceals
the real forces making for disaster. If light be thrown on the matter it promptly appears that disasters
are caused by certain men. For we live in a time when the fate of man is determined by men.
Fascism is not a natural disaster which can be understood simply in terms of “human nature.” But
even when we are dealing with natural catastrophes, there are ways to portray them which are worthy
of human beings because they appeal to man’s ﬁghting spirit.
After a great earthquake that destroyed Yokohama, many American magazines published photographs
showing a heap of ruins. The captions read: STEEL S TOOD . And, to be sure, though one might see only
ruins at ﬁrst glance, the eye swiftly discerned, after noting the caption, that a few tall buildings had
remained standing. Among the multitudinous descriptions that can be given of an earthquake, those
drawn up by construction engineers concerning the shifts in the ground, the force of stresses, the best
developed, etc., are of the greatest importance, for they lead to future construction which will withstand
earthquakes. If anyone wishes to describe Fascism and war, great disasters which are not natural catas-
trophes, he must do so in terms of a practical truth. He must show that these disasters are launched by
the possessing classes to control the vast numbers of workers who do not own the means of production.
If one wishes successfully to write the truth about evil conditions, one must write it so that its
avertible causes can be identiﬁed. If the preventable causes can be identiﬁed, the evil conditions can be
4 The Judgment to Select Those in Whose Hands the Truth Will Be
The century-old custom of trade in critical and descriptive writing and the fact that the writer has been
relived of concern for the destination of what he has written have caused him to labor under a false
impression. He believes that his customer or employer, the middleman, passes on what he has written to everyone. The writer thinks: I have spoken and those who wish to hear will hear me. In reality he has
spoken and those who are able to pay hear him. A great deal, though still too little, has been said about
his; I merely want to emphasize that “writing for someone” has been transformed into merely “writing.”
But the truth cannot merely be written; it must be written for someone, someone who can do something
with it. The process of recognizing truth is the same for writers and readers. In order to say good things,
one’s hearing must be good and one must hear good things. The truth must be spoke deliberately and
listened to deliberately. And for us writers it is important to whom we tell the truth and who tells it to
We must tell the truth about evil conditions to those for whom the conditions are worst, and we must
also learn the truth from them. We must address not only people who hold certain views, but people
who, because of their situation, should hold these views. And the audience is continually changing.
Even the hangmen can be addressed when the payment for hanging stops, or when the work becomes
too dangerous. The Bavarian peasants were against every kind of revolution, but when the war went on
too long and the sons who came home found no room on their farms, it was possible to win them over
It is important for the writer to strike the true note of truth. Ordinarily, what we hear is a very
gentle, melancholy tone, the tone of people who would not hurt a ﬂy. Hearing this one, the wretched
become more wretched. Those who use it may not be foes, but they are certainly not allies. The truth is
belligerent; it strikes out not only against falsehood, but against particular people who spread falsehood.
5 The Cunning to Spread the Truth Among the Many
Many people, proud that they posses the courage necessary for the truth, happy that they have suc-
ceeded in ﬁnding it, perhaps fatigued by the labor necessary to put it into workable form and impatient
that it should be grasped by those whose interests they are espousing, consider it superﬂuous to apply
any special cunning in spreading the truth. For this reason they often sacriﬁce the whole effectiveness
of their work. At all times cunning has been employed to spread the truth, whenever truth was sup-
pressed or concealed. Confucius falsiﬁed an old, patriotic historical calendar. He changed certain words.
Where the calendar read “The ruler of Hun had the philosopher Wan killed because he said so and so,”
Confucius replaced killed by murdered. If the calendar said that tyrant so and so died by assassination,
he substituted was executed. In this manner Confucius opened the way for a fresh interpretation of
In our times anyone who says population in place of people or race, a