Anthem
spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end of the
quest. I wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning.
I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for
being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant
and the sanction.
It is my eyes which see, and the sight of my eyes grants beauty
to the earth. It is my ears which hear, and the hearing of my
ears gives its song to the world. It is my mind which thinks, and
the judgement of my mind is the only searchlight that can find
the truth. It is my will which chooses, and the choice of my will
is the only edict I must respect.
Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are
false, but only three are holy: “I will it!”
Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me; the guiding
star and the loadstone which point the way. They point in but one
direction. They point to me.
I know not if this earth on which I stand is the core of the
universe or if it is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know
not and I care not. For I know what happiness is possible to me
on earth. And my happiness needs no higher aim to vindicate it.
My happiness is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is
its own goal. It is its own purpose.
Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish.
I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs.
I am not a bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice on
their altars.
I am a man. This miracle of me is mine to own and keep, and mine
to guard, and mine to use, and mine to kneel before!
I do not surrender my treasures, nor do I share them. The fortune
of my spirit is not to be blown into coins of brass and flung to
the winds as alms for the poor of the spirit. I guard my
treasures: my thought, my will, my freedom. And the greatest of
these is freedom.
I owe nothing to my brothers, nor do I gather debts from them. I
ask none to live for me, nor do I live for any others. I covet no
man’s soul, nor is my soul theirs to covet.
I am neither foe nor friend to my brothers, but such as each of
them shall deserve of me. And to earn my love, my brothers must
do more than to have been born. I do not grant my love without
reason, nor to any chance passer-by who may wish to claim it. I
honor men with my love. But honor is a thing to be earned.
I shall choose friends among men, but neither slaves nor masters.
And I shall choose only such as please me, and them I shall love
and respect, but neither command nor obey. And we shall join our
hands when we wish, or walk alone when we so desire. For in the
temple of his spirit, each man is alone. Let each man keep his
temple untouched and undefiled. Then let him join hands with
others if he wishes, but only beyond his holy threshold.
For the word “We” must never be spoken, save by one’s choice and
as a second thought. This word must never be placed first within
man’s soul, else it becomes a monster, the root of all the evils
on earth, the root of man’s torture by men, and of an unspeakable
lie.
The word “We” is as lime poured over men, which sets and hardens
to stone, and crushes all beneath it, and that which is white and
that which is black are lost equally in the grey of it. It is the
word by which the depraved steal the virtue of the good, by which
the weak steal the might of the strong, by which the fools steal
the wisdom of the sages.
What is my joy if all hands, even the unclean, can reach into it?
What is my wisdom, if even the fools can dictate to me? What is
my freedom, if all creatures, even the botched and the impotent,
are my masters? What is my life, if I am but to bow, to agree and
to obey?
But I am done with this creed of corruption.
I am done with the monster of “We,” the word of serfdom, of
plunder, of misery, falsehood and shame.
And now I see the face of god, and I raise this god over the
earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being,
this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride.
This god, this one word:
“I.”
PART TWELVE
It was when I read the first of the books I found in my house
that I saw the word “I.” And when I understood this word, the
book fell from my hands, and I wept, I who had never known tears.
I wept in deliverance and in pity for all mankind.
I understood the blessed thing which I had called my curse. I
understood why the best in me had been my sins and my
transgressions; and why I had never felt guilt in my sins. I
understood that centuries of chains and lashes will not kill the
spirit of man nor the sense of truth within him.
I read many books for many days. Then I called the Golden One,
and I told her what I had read and what I had learned. She looked
at me and the first words she spoke were:
“I love you.”
Then I said:
“My dearest one, it is not proper for men to be without names.
There was a time when each man had a name of his own to
distinguish him from all other men. So let us choose our names. I
have read of a man who lived many thousands of years ago, and of
all the names in these books, his is the one I wish to bear. He
took the light of the gods and he brought it to men, and he
taught men to be gods. And he suffered for his deed as all
bearers of light must suffer. His name was Prometheus.”
“It shall be your name,” said the Golden One.
“And I have read of a goddess,” I said, “who was the mother of
the earth and of all the gods. Her name was Gaea. Let this be
your name, my Golden One, for you are to be the mother of a new
kind of gods.”
“It shall be my name,” said the Golden One.
Now I look ahead. My future is clear before me. The Saint of the
pyre had seen the future when he chose me as his heir, as the
heir of all the saints and all the martyrs who came before him
and who died for the same cause, for the same word, no matter
what name they gave to their cause and their truth.
I shall live here, in my own house. I shall take my food from the
earth by the toil of my own hands. I shall learn many secrets
from my books. Through the years ahead, I shall rebuild the
achievements of the past, and open the way to carry them further,
the achievements which are open to me, but closed forever to my
brothers, for their minds are shackled to the weakest and dullest
ones among them.
I have learned that my power of the sky was known to men long
ago; they called it Electricity. It was the power that moved
their greatest inventions. It lit this house with light which
came from those globes of glass on the walls. I have found the
engine which produced this light. I shall learn how to repair it
and how to make it work again. I shall learn how to use the wires
which carry this power. Then I shall build a barrier of wires
around my home, and across the paths which lead to my home; a
barrier light as a cobweb, more impassable than a wall of
granite; a barrier my brothers will never be able to cross. For
they have nothing to fight me with, save the brute force of their
numbers. I have my mind.
Then here, on this mountaintop, with the world below me and
nothing above me but the sun, I shall live my own truth. Gaea is
pregnant with my child. Our son will be raised as a man. He will
be taught to say “I” and to bear the pride of it. He will be
taught to walk straight and on his own feet. He will be taught
reverence for his own spirit.
When I shall have read all the books and learned my new way, when
my home will be ready and my earth tilled, I shall steal one day,
for the last time, into the cursed City of my birth. I shall call
to me my friend who has no name save International 4-8818, and
all those like him, Fraternity 2-5503, who cries without reason,
and Solidarity 9-6347 who calls for help in the night, and a few
others. I shall call to me all the men and the women whose spirit
has not been killed within them and who suffer under the yoke of
their brothers. They will follow me and I shall lead them to my
fortress. And here, in this uncharted wilderness, I and they, my
chosen friends, my fellow-builders, shall write the first chapter
in the new history of man.
These are the things before me. And as I stand here at the door
of glory, I look behind me for the last time. I look upon the
history of men, which I have learned from the books, and I
wonder. It was a long story, and the spirit which moved it was
the spirit of man’s freedom. But what is freedom? Freedom from
what? There is nothing to take a man’s freedom away from him,
save other men. To be free, a man must be free of his brothers.
That is freedom. That and nothing else.
At first, man was enslaved by the gods. But he broke their
chains. Then he was enslaved by the kings. But he broke their
chains. He was enslaved by his birth, by his kin, by his race.
But he broke their chains. He declared to all his brothers that a
man has rights which neither god nor king nor other men can take
away from him, no matter what their number, for his is the right
of man, and there is no right on earth above this right. And he
stood on the threshold of the freedom for which the blood of the
centuries behind him had been spilled.
But then he gave up all he had won, and fell lower than his
savage beginning.
What brought it to pass? What disaster took their reason away
from men? What whip lashed them to their knees in shame and
submission? The worship of the word “We.”
When men accepted that worship, the structure of centuries
collapsed about them, the structure whose every beam had come
from the thought of some one man, each in his day down the ages,
from the depth of some one spirit, such spirit as existed but for
its own sake. Those men who survived those eager to obey, eager
to live for one another, since they had nothing else to vindicate
them—those men could neither carry on, nor preserve what they had
received. Thus did all thought, all science, all wisdom perish on
earth. Thus did men—men with nothing to offer save their great
number—lost the steel towers, the flying ships, the power wires,
all the things they had not created and could never keep.
Perhaps, later, some men had been born with the mind and the
courage to recover these things which were lost; perhaps these
men came before the Councils of Scholars. They were answered as I
have been answered—and for the same reasons.
But I still wonder how it was possible, in those graceless years
of transition, long ago, that men did not see whither they were
going, and went on, in blindness and cowardice, to their fate. I
wonder, for it is hard for me to conceive how men who knew the
word “I” could give it up and not know what they lost. But such