Alex nodded again.
“So,” Aaron said, evidently finished, then looked down at his cigarette, rolling it against the rim of the ashtray. “You know, there are fashions even in politics. Today, something is popular, tomorrow not. Things change. Sometimes even the logic of things. But the logic of the Socialist system, that doesn’t change. Nobody ever said it would be easy to make a new society. Think who must be against it. So, sometimes a disappointment, sometimes a compromise. But how else to get there? And think what’s at the end. A just society must be worth a few sacrifices, no?”
Alex felt the hairs on the back of his neck. A phrase he’d used himself.
“And you cannot have a just society without a just economic system. That’s the logic that never changes for me. The rest—” He waved his hand.
“Can I ask you something then? I heard that you resigned from the secretariat last year.”
“And you want to know why, if I’m such a good Communist?” Aaron said, a wry smile forming around the cigarette. “Well, it’s a question. Should I say I’m too busy here with my work? That I wanted more time with my family? No, you ask, I’ll tell you. A change of fashion maybe, like I said before. I come from the Comintern days when there was an international ideal. All Communists, the same belief. But now the SED answers only to the Russians, to their issues. I understand. Germany lost the war. You have to expect a certain amount of—what?—hardship. Looting, all the terrible things of war. But three, four years later, they’re still dismantling factories. Our soldiers are still prisoners. Four years later. This isn’t good for Communism, only for Russia. If it really is good for them, who knows? But it’s not good for Germany. Why did I resign? I want the SED to be Socialist and German.” He stopped. “Well, I’m giving you a speech. You didn’t ask for that. Anyway, you think they were sorry to see me go? An old Cominterno who went to the West? Another fashion. If you went to the West you’re suspect. Cosmopolitan. Although that’s only another word for Jew. Whenever you hear that, you know what’s coming—” He stopped again. “A good time, maybe, to mind your own business. Until the fashion changes.”
“That’s what people thought before.”
Aaron looked away. “Yes, I know. The head in the sand.” He shifted in his chair. “But this will pass. It’s not possible, you know, anti-Semitism in a Socialist state. A contradiction. It’s against the logic.” He took off his glasses, wiping them with a handkerchief, his face suddenly boyish, pale. “So there’s an answer. About the secretariat. Maybe I wasn’t practical enough for political work. My wife thinks that.” He smiled. “It’s true. But it’s just as well. There is so much to do here. Can I stop them taking a factory? No. And in the end, what’s more important? Today’s problem, which goes away, or to bring German literature back to Germany?”
“But what about the forced labor? I heard that’s why you—”
“No, no, no,” Aaron said, cutting him off, head up now, glasses back on, alarmed. “Nothing like that. Such nonsense. Berlin, you know, is a great place for rumors. People will say anything. But come,” he said, standing up. “I’ll walk with you. You’re taking a tram? From Hackescher Markt?”
Alex looked up, surprised. Everything abrupt now, rushed. Coats, a word with his secretary, and then they were on the street, walking up to Unter den Linden.
“What is it?” Alex said, stopping.
“Nothing. I—” He stifled a cough. “Please, walk. It’s better. Forgive me. You learn to be careful.”
“About what?”
“Forgive me,” he said again. “You know, you’re with us now and I’m so pleased. But not everything is perfect. This matter of the forced labor—it’s a great sensitivity.”
“So we have to go out here to talk?”
“Yes, maybe a foolishness. But people listen. Herschel—a journalist, a friend—wrote about this and he was arrested. A Kulturbund member. A book coming from us. We can’t have that kind of trouble. What I said to you before—it’s old news. What Comrade Stein is always saying. But this—they don’t like talk about this. I’ve been warned.”
“But it’s not a secret.”
Aaron shook his head. “No, that’s the hypocrisy. I said not everything is perfect. People know about this. Thousands sent to the mines. How can you keep that a secret? But the Russians pretend it is. They don’t want to talk about it. Well, of course, it makes them unpopular. But it also makes the SED unpopular. To go along with this policy, forcing their own people—” He shook his head. “So shortsighted. So I resigned. You ask the reason, that was it. I think the SED should protect Germans from this. I won’t lie to you. But I can’t talk about it there,” he said, cocking his head back toward the office. “I don’t want to make trouble. You’re disturbed—I can see in your face—but the final logic is still correct. You were right to come. Don’t ever doubt that.” His voice earnest, a hand on Alex’s arm. “You know, with everything else, the Russians try to work with us. Look at the subsidies to Aufbau. A priority for paper. The schools. The theaters. But this—on this one thing, an iron fist. So all the rest of it, all the good efforts—who gives them credit for that when people are being worked like this? Like slaves. So they don’t want them to know. The Siberia mentality—people disappear. No one knows where. No one talks. So here too. They don’t want any talk. Then it doesn’t exist. Just the good news in Neues Deutschland. Forgive me,” he said, slowing, his voice calmer. “There is good news, you know. Real progress. We mustn’t forget that. This is—a problem. And you know, problems can be solved. The underlying logic is still right.”