A quick introduction: This follows on from last month's initial scratch, which gives details about the project. In this second iteration, which is based on a work-in-progress performance of Early Days (of a Better Nation) that took place at King's College on October 19, I play around more with the kinds of written matter that's in Dacia's Mass Observation Archive (letters as well as diaries, basically), begin to respond to the materials given to participants at the beginning of the show, begin to register that the show happens in two time-frames, and begin to introduce real audience-members, people whom I observed during the performance and/or spoke to during the interval.
As last time, I'm fascinated by the slippages between fact and fiction, and by the difference between creating character voices and attempting to capture a voice heard briefly during the show. There's another challenge, too: how not to give away too much for those who are going to see the show - some of this material was rewritten following feedback from Coney's producer, who felt I wasn't getting that quite right. Once again, anything rooted in my own response to Early Days is credited to a character whose name is an abbreviation of my own (luckily my full name has 22 letters to play with), and I'd be really interested in any feedback or responses.
Mass
Observation Record
Writer:
Maddy Costa
Observer
Number: 114
Date:
19 October, 2044
Place:
The Plains, Dacia
A
great deal of optimistic prose will be written about this day: that
it is the first in many people's living memory characterised by
dialogue, not violence; by cooperation, not antagonism. Many people I
spoke with – particularly from the Islands – feel it began with
Dacia divided, and ended with the unity of a common vision. Taking an
objective view, however, the day has been more complex than that
idealised vision conveys.
I was
impressed from the very beginning of the day by the spirit of
curiosity that reigned over proceedings. People from each region of
the country had been summoned to attend a national meeting in the
City to discuss the pressing issue of the World Council, and its
offer of military aid, and everyone I encountered was more interested
to know not only what others thought, but more particularly what
people from regions other than their own thought. We met in the
ornate heart of Dacia's old Chapel – spared so far in all the
violence, still sombre and stately, miraculous in its stillness and
beauty – and although we entered as separate groups, quickly these
merged to speak across boundary lines. The word trust hung in the
air, tantalising all: could we begin to mend the broken trust between
the people? To reject the World Council would require us to do so
immediately. It would require us to rebuild leadership immediately.
And
yet, I cannot help registering surprise at the decision that was
taken: not only to reject the World Council, but to move forward as a
country without a traditional leadership structure. Galvanised by
Angela Clerkin, the charismatic former politician from the Islands,
we are attempting a new political system, working cooperatively to
the country's mutual benefit.
Undeniably,
this is a remarkable turn of events: the hope it demonstrates was
inconceivable even weeks ago. But I can already see flaws. Many
Dacians felt uncomfortable with the speed with which the Islanders in
particular pushed the general vote towards this national cooperative.
Any attempt at dissent, or even mild questioning, was quickly shouted
down by cheerful anarchists, desirous of absolute change. Other
Observers, I know, will have been swept up in the mood of optimism,
and will report quite differently. But from my standpoint, there is
much to inspire ambivalence, perhaps even anxiety, in the happenings
of the day.
DACIA
DIARIES
Available
within the Mass Observation Archive
Date:
19 October, 2044
Elena
Zabeth, student, the Plains
I
realised today how much I've changed. It's probably been happening
for a long time. Storn taking control, and showing so little respect
for anyone who didn't fit his impossibly narrow view of what a human
should be and do, made me aware of my responsibility, as a citizen,
towards the people with whom I live and form a country. I couldn't
use words like that before, or think in that way. I learned that you
can't just sit back and grumble when things happen in the state that
you don't like: you have to fight against them, because otherwise,
how does anything change? Not that I was brave enough to fight. I
wrote, and tried to agitate through that writing. But today, at the
general meeting, I found my voice. And not just with people I know:
with strangers, and people from the Islands. I find Islanders so
difficult: people in the Plains haven't exactly been on the front
line during the way, but they've lived essentially in safety. So when
they began talking about the offer from the World Council, which of
course they oppose, I knew I had to step in. I asked them to see this
from the perspective of City people. Their homes are being destroyed,
people they know are being murdered. I made clear that I mostly agree
with them – the terms being offered by the World Council, not least
the lack of autonomy, are untenable – and I was playing devil's
advocate (as I write this, I feel amazed – I've never taken that
position, ever!). But there are people in this country who don't know
who to trust: why should they trust us now? To my amazement, trust
became the key word of the debate: the more we merged as a single
group, getting closer to voting time, the more I heard others use it,
saying things like: this is a time for trust. It was the most
astonishing feeling, knowing I could make that kind of contribution.
And I've realised, I feel hungry for that – not for power, but for
the spoken dialogue that makes change. I'm excited for the future,
and that's a big change, too.
DACIA
DIARIES
Available
within the Mass Observation Archive
Date:
19 October, 2045
Christine
[surname unknown], lawyer, the Plains
I
despair at the naivety of my countrypeople. I do. A year ago we
voted, by an overwhelming majority, to reject the advances of the
World Council, despite the risk this represented. As I said in that
meeting, maintaining law and order is vital if we are to make
progress; I could tell from the response of some of the younger
Dacians that they thought me essentially conservative and
reactionary, but they blinker themselves from the complexity of the
situation. Our country has assets and infrastructure that need
protecting; the steep rise of refugees in the Plains has put a
considerable strain on resources; after a year of ruling ourselves
cooperatively, the City is more damaged and fragile than ever.
Without some form of security and policing, we are vulnerable: at
risk of attack from fellow Dacians, and our neighbours.
Today,
at the national meeting to distribute resources, I hoped other
representatives from the country's three regions would at least
recognise this. I tried to argue the case for a proper police force
in the City, to bring stability, and in the Plains, to protect the
heavy metal mines. The wealth, the very future of our nation is based
in those mines: we have a duty to ensure their safe-keeping, for
future generations. But as usual, self-interest in the guise of
idealism prevailed. We found the money for vaccinations, for
hospitals, for food, but not law and order. I come from a long line
of anarchists and know that this kind of approach inevitably ends in
danger, even failure. I feel a great disappointment in the country
today, and an anxiety for the days ahead. The young believe the civil
war is over, but I fear it has barely begun.
DACIA
PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE
Available
within the Mass Observation Archive
Letter
to Mrs Madel, the Plains, dated October 2045
Hi
Mum! Thanks for your postcard. I managed to pick up some medicine for
Grandad. And I've got some good news: I was at the national meeting
today, to distribute resources across the country, and we've found
the money to build a hospital in the Plains! Such a relief! For a
while it was terrifying – on entry we were each given an equal
proportion of money, and I was adamant that I would put mine towards
that hospital. But then I got chatting to a guy from the Islands, and
before I knew it he grabbed my money and used it to secure a hospital
… for the Islands! The <*^@~#%!!! I was so astonished I could
barely speak – I was so relieved when other Plains people decided
to put their money into a hospital rather than a police force. I know
I KNOW you're constantly saying Law and Order are important too. But
I really believe that, once people's needs are met, once they no
longer need to fight and steal JUST TO GET FOOD, once the vaccination
programme begins and people have access to medicines, I honestly
believe the violence will calm down. Trust me, Mum, we're going to be
fine. I need to go now but just wanted to send a quick note with the
medicine. Give my love to Dad and Granny and Grandad. And love to you
xx
