“I don’t
think we can pass the buck to forces of evil or to anything but our own humanity.
We are bloody fools—but then, we are hardly out of the egg shell yet.”
According to
the editors of Me Again: Uncollected Writings of Stevie Smith (1982), Mitchison
had written Smith “‘a gloomy letter’ about the world situation.” In September
1937, Hitler was in his ascendancy and rapidly rearming Germany, Stalin’s Great
Terror was accelerating, the Second Sino-Japanese War was well under way and
Spain was self-destructing. Smith, whose first and best novel, Novel on
Yellow Paper, had recently been published, urges Mitchison to keep her cool:
“I think we
want to keep a tight hand—each of us on our own thoughts. I think at the
present moment you are in a state of mind that hungers for the disasters it
fears. If there are forces of evil, you see, you are siding with them, in
allowing your thoughts to panic. Your mind is your only province—the only thing
that is.”
Such
maturity remains pertinent. Panic is pandemic. Everything is a crisis. Looked
at historically, in context, everything is proceeding as usual, but ordinary people,
newly armed with social media, have grown extraordinarily fond of melodrama and
cheap, unearned emotion. Eighty years ago, Smith had already diagnosed our
problem:
“There is a
sort of hubris in this world-worrying. For if you have achieved peace in your
own mind, when the worst happens (if it does) you will have reserves of
strength to meet it. And if you have not achieved peace in your own mind, how
can you expect the world to do any better.”
This is
realism, not quietism. A man’s got to know his limitations, as a movie star one
said – another occupation not to be relied upon for world-historical wisdom. Smith
goes on:
“Hungry for
a nostrum, a Saviour, a Leader, anything but to face up to themselves & a
suspension of belief. . .. Yes, our times are difficult but our weapon is not
argument I think but silence & a sort of self-interest, observation &
documentation.”
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