We’re No Good at Being Deep-Sea Divers

In the Socialist Republic, everything began with a quote—from one’s professional certification thesis to an article written for the local newspaper. The article was a Party assignment, the certification meant a little extra money in one’s paycheck, and the quote—naturally—had to come from Ceaușescu. Some, being of a more timid nature, would frantically hunt for a suitable quote; others, bolder, would simply invent one. It made no difference, as no one ever read them anyway. In time, even the memory of socialism faded, and I assumed I had finally escaped the tyranny of quotes. Good Lord, how naive I can be.

I still talk to people, if only to keep them from saying that I’ve turned into a complete hermit in my old age. In any case, people will say whatever they please, regardless of your actual behavior. They possess an insatiable appetite for talking—yet there is a dire shortage of listeners. Hardly anyone is willing to hear what another person has to say. I’ve adopted a different approach, guided by the laws of the market: supply and demand. My offering? I am willing to listen. It is truly remarkable how much people can reveal about themselves while laboring under the impression that they are speaking about others. I once toyed with the idea of ​​establishing a new field of study: the classification of individuals based on the discourse they voluntarily provide. Naturally, I never actually got around to it. After all, who would have the patience to read even the introduction to such a study?

Classifying individuals would be simple enough—assigning a specific color to each personality type. Yellow, for instance—the envious ones. They wage wars against people they could never hope to reach in the first place. They drag them through the mud relentlessly because those being accused are doing exactly what the accuser wanted to do but failed to achieve. Red – the frustrated ones. Their lives are a collection of poor choices and failed projects. They are angry at everyone, for any reason, at any time. They are ready to destroy everything around them. If things didn’t work out for them, then to hell with everyone else. Blue – the depressed ones. They lament over anything and everything, with or without actual tears. They do nothing, because it’s all going to end badly anyway—they know that in advance.

There are other colors, too, but I’ll leave those to the reader; it wouldn’t be right to exhaust the subject—people might say I claim to know it all. Obviously, I don’t. And that’s for the best. Those who claim to know it all are called “radicals”—the political kind, not the mathematical ones. Radicals have a harsh fate. Their radicalism forces them to take everything or nothing at all; in other words, they are people who don’t know how to share. It’s difficult to take everything. If you succeed, you become Public Enemy Number One. You’ll be blamed for everything—because everything is in your hands. Or at least, that’s what the advertisement says. That’s why Ceaușescu met his end: he couldn’t possibly do everything himself, yet everything was done in his name.

This is why people can no longer get along. They can’t all be right—just as they can’t all fit through an elevator door at the same time. The result is a chaotic crush, frayed nerves, swearing, and even more radicalism. No one can rescue us from this dilemma—and, truth be told, we don’t even want to be rid of the fear that, should we stop arguing, we might simply grow bored.

The moral of the fable is simple: democracy grants you freedom, but it doesn’t take away your problems. You remain free, yet burdened by them—unlike in the past, when you could at least claim you had no other choice. Now you do, but that doesn’t really help.

All that remains is to find a category for this text, which bears a worrying resemblance to a sermon. It may look like one, but it isn’t. Sermons are about morality; reality, however, knows no such thing. In the waters of reality, you either keep your head above the surface, or you sink. And as it happens, none of us are particularly skilled at being divers.