The Nave of Fools (by Ted K)

The Nave of Fools is a fictional story written by the mathematician Theodore Kaczynski. Through this metaphor, he criticizes the inability of activist circles to prioritize their struggles, a crazy irresponsibility that leads us straight to global chaos. It cannot be repeated enough: in asymmetric combat, the side with limited resources must learn to use them for one objective at a time. The current trend of wanting to open up more and more new fronts of struggle is a Trick of the technological system to ensure the reproduction of the existing social order.

He Once upon a time there was a ship commanded by a captain and seconds so vain that they went crazy. They headed north, sailed until they encountered icebergs and ice floes, but continued to sail due north, in increasingly perilous waters, for the sole purpose of providing themselves with ever more brilliant opportunities for maritime exploits.

With the boat reaching higher and higher latitudes, passengers and crew became less and less comfortable. They started quarrelling and complaining about their living conditions.

— May the devil take me away, said a qualified sailor, if not the worst trip I have ever made. The bridge is gleaming with ice. When I'm on the lookout, the wind pierces my jacket like a knife; every time I make a moose, my fingers border on frostbite; and all I earn for that are five miserable shillings a month!

— You think you are being fooled! said a passenger. I can't sleep at night because of the cold. Here the ladies don't have as many blankets as the men. That is not fair!

A Mexican sailor echoed:

— Chingado! I only earn half the salary of an Anglo-Saxon sailor. We need a lot of food to keep warm and I don't have my share; the Anglo-Saxons get more. And the worst part is that the officers always give me orders in English rather than Spanish.

— I have more reasons to complain than anyone else, says a Native American sailor. If the Pale Faces hadn't stolen my ancestors' land, I wouldn't have been on this ship among icebergs and arctic winds. I would just be paddling on a nice, peaceful lake. I deserve compensation. The captain should at least let me organize dice games to make some money.

The boatswain said:

— Yesterday, the first second called me a “fart” because I am gay. I have the right to suck cock without being insulted!

— Humans are not the only creatures that are abused on this boat, said an animalistic passenger, her voice trembling with outrage. Last week I saw the second officer kick the ship's dog twice!

One of the passengers was a university professor. Wriggling his hands, he exclaimed:

— All this is awful! It is immoral! It's racism, sexism, speciesism, homophobia, and exploitation of the working class! It's discrimination! We need to get social justice: equal pay for the Mexican sailor, higher wages for all sailors, compensation for the Indian, an equal number of covers for the ladies, recognition of the right to suck dick and the ban on hitting the dog!

— Yes, yes! the passengers screamed. Yes, yes! the crew yelled. It's discrimination! We need to demand our rights!

The foam cleared his throat:

— Hmm. You all have good reasons to complain. But it seems to me that our real urgency is to veer south, because continuing north is the guarantee of a shipwreck sooner or later, and then your salaries, your covers and your right to suck cock will be useless, because we will all drown.

But no one paid any attention to it: it was just the moss.

From their post on the deck, the captain and officers watched and listened. They smiled and winked at each other, then, at a sign from the captain, the third runner-up came down from the dunette. He walked nonchalantly to where the passengers and crew were gathered and made his way among them. He looked very serious and spoke in these terms:

— We, the officers, have to admit that truly inexcusable things took place on this ship. We didn't understand how bad the situation was until we heard your complaints. We are men of good will and want to be fair to you. But — it must be said — the captain is quite conservative and routine, and perhaps he should be pushed a little before he makes major changes. I think that if you protest vigorously — but always peacefully and without violating any rules of the ship — it would shake the captain's inertia and force him to deal with the issues you so rightly complain about.

Having said that, he went back to the cabin. As he was leaving, the passengers and crew questioned him:

— Moderate! Reformist! Hypocritical liberal! Captain's valet!
However, they did what he said.

They gathered en masse in front of the dunette, yelled insults at the officers and demanded their rights:

— I want a higher salary and better working conditions, cried the qualified sailor.

— The same number of blankets as the men, cried the passenger.

— I want to receive my orders in Spanish, cried the Mexican sailor.

— I demand the right to organize dice games, cried the Native American.

— I refuse to be called a fart, cried the boatswain.

— Stop kicking the dog, cried the animal friend.

— The revolution right away! exclaimed the teacher.

The captain and officers met and talked for a few minutes while winking, nodding, and smiling at each other. Then the captain went to the front of the cabin and, with a strong show of kindness, he announced that the salary of the second class would be increased to six shillings per month, that that of the Mexican would be equal to two thirds of that of an Anglo-Saxon sailor and that he would be given his orders in Spanish, that the female passengers would receive additional cover, that the Native American sailor would be allowed to organize games of the dice. Saturday evenings, that we would no longer call the boatswain a fart as long as he did his pipes in private, and that we did not would kick the dog more unless he really deserved it (by stealing food for example).

The passengers and crew celebrated these concessions as a great victory, but the next day they were once again unhappy.

— Six shillings a month is a misery, and I always freeze my fingers with the foresail! the qualified sailor growled.

— I still don't have the same salary as the Anglo-Saxons or enough to eat in this cold, said the Mexican sailor.

— We women still don't have enough blankets to keep warm, says the passenger. Other crew members and passengers made similar complaints, encouraged by the professor.

When they were done, the foam spoke up — this time louder, so that others couldn't easily ignore him:

— It's really terrible that you kick the dog because he stole some bread from the kitchen, that the women don't have as many blankets as the men, that the second class freezes his fingers, and I don't see why the boatswain couldn't suck whoever he wanted. But look how big the icebergs are now. We have to turn around and head south, because if we continue north we will be shipwrecked and drowned.

— Oh yes, said the boatswain, it's awful to continue north. But why should I stay hidden to express my sexuality? Why should I be called a fart? Am I not as good as anyone else?

— Sailing north is terrible, said the passenger, but can't you see? That's exactly why women need more blankets. I demand equal coverage, immediately!

— It is absolutely true, says the professor, that sailing north imposes major challenges on all of us. But it would not be realistic to go south. You can't go back in time. We need to find a reasonable way to deal with the situation.

— Look, said the moss, if we let the four weirdos in the pod do as they please, we will all drown. If we ever get the ship out of harm's way, then we can worry about working conditions, covers for women, and the right to suck cock. But first we have to turn around. If a few of us get together, come up with a plan, and show some courage, we can save ourselves. We would not need to be numerous — six or eight would suffice. We could launch a charge against the pod, throw those jerks overboard and turn the bar south.

The teacher raised his nose and said in a severe tone:

— I don't believe in violence, it's immoral.

— It is never ethical to use violence, says the boatswain.

— Violence terrifies me, says the passenger.

The captain and officers watched and listened to the whole scene. At the captain's signal, the third mate went down onto the bridge. He went around among the passengers and crew telling them that there were still a lot of problems on the ship.

— We have made a lot of progress, he said, but much remains to be done. The working conditions of the second class remain tough, the Mexican still does not have the same salary as the Anglo-Saxons, the women do not yet have as many blankets as the men, the Saturday evening dice games of the Indian are a derisory compensation for the loss of his land, it is not fair that the boatswain must remain confined to the toilet to suck cock, and the dog sometimes still receives kicks. I think the captain still needs to be pushed. It would be helpful if you all organized another demonstration — as long as it was nonviolent.

As he returned to the stern, the passengers and crew hurled insults at him, but they nevertheless did what he said and met in front of the cabin for another demonstration. They ranted, got carried away, showed their fists, and even threw a rotten egg at the captain - who deftly avoided it.

After listening to their complaints, the captain and officers met for a conference, where winks and broad smiles were exchanged. Then the captain went to the front of the cabin and announced that they were going to give gloves to the second class, that the Mexican sailor was going to receive a salary equal to three quarters of that of the Anglo-Saxons, that the women were going to receive another cover, that the Native American could also organize dice games on Sunday evenings, that the boatswain was going to be allowed to suck cock in public at night, and that no one could kick Foot the dog without special permission from the captain.

The passengers and crew raved about this great revolutionary victory, but by the next morning they were once again unhappy and began complaining about the same old problems.

This time the foam became angry:

— You crazy people! he yelled, can't you see what the captain and his team are doing? They keep your mind busy with your frivolous claims — blankets, salaries, dog kicks, etc. — and so you don't think about what's really bad about this ship: it's sinking ever further north and we're all going to sink. If only a few of you came to your senses, got together, and attacked the cabin, we could jump ship and save our lives. But you're doing nothing but whine about petty little issues, like working conditions, dice games, and the right to suck cock.

These words revolted the passengers and the crew.

— Mean!! exclaimed the Mexican, Do you think it reasonable that I should only receive three-quarters of the salary of an Anglo-Saxon sailor? Is that mean?!

— How can you describe my grievances as frivolous? exclaimed the boatswain. Don't you know how humiliating it is to be called a faggot?

— Kicking a dog is not a “small petty problem”! screamed the animal friend. It is an insensitive, cruel and brutal act!

— Well, okay, answered the foam. These problems are not petty or frivolous. Kicking a dog is cruel and brutal, and being called a fart is demeaning. But compared to our real problem — the fact that the ship is continuing north — your claims are frivolous and secondary, because if we don't turn back soon, we're all going to sink with the ship.

— Fascist! said the teacher.

— Counter-revolutionary! said the passenger.

And one after the other, all the passengers and crew members followed one another to call the foam fascist and counter-revolutionary. They dismissed it and started complaining about salaries, covers for women, and the right to suck cock again.

The ship continued on its way north. After a while it was crushed between two icebergs. Everyone drowned.

Theodore J. Kaczynski — October 1999