Paper D2: Mao Zedong

Paper D2½: The Demagogue and the Crowd (Draft)


The first grade change — the crossing between the three men (Hitler, Stalin, Mao) and the three results (the Holocaust, the Great Purge, the Great Leap). A man, however inverted, cannot become a result by himself; something must come from outside him. In the ascending octaves the input at this gap is grace — the lift a single life cannot supply itself; here it is grace inverted: not the few who raise the one but the many who carry him, not a truth received from beyond the self but a lie received in place of it, en masse. The two who make the crossing — the demagogue who leads and the crowd that follows — and the measure of guilt that belongs to each.

Confidence — Math: — (not engaged) — proves nothing new; it states a mechanism. Science: — (not engaged). Theology: concordance / inference — the center of the section: the mechanism by which the men of the first three notes become the results of the next three (the demagogue finds the evil unfaced and gives it permission, direction, and an enemy’s name; the refused truth received as the flattering lie, multiplied en masse), and the shared-but-unequal guilt (Jeremiah 5:31).


“The prophets prophesy falsely, and the priests bear rule by their means; and my people love to have it so: and what will ye do in the end thereof?” — Jeremiah 5:31


The gap

Read the first three notes and then the next three and a gap opens between them that the eye crosses without noticing — and the whole section depends on not crossing it without noticing. On one side stand three men. On the other stand three results: six million murdered, a nation purged, a continent starved. The men are necessary; the arithmetic says they are nowhere near sufficient. Subtract Hitler and you have not subtracted one from six million; you have subtracted the six million, because a single will and a single pair of hands and a single lifetime cannot reach that figure. The result is not contained in the man. It follows that something crosses the gap from outside him and multiplies a will into a deed the size of a nation. The structure marks the place. This paper names what crosses.

The capture

What crosses is the crowd, and the crowd is made one heart at a time by a single refusal. The first three notes asked each reader to find the inversion in his own heart — the evil, the lie, the idolatry, only smaller, on the same line. That recognition was not decoration; it was the inoculation, and this gap is where it is tested, because a heart has only two things it can do with the evil it carries. It can face it — own it, grieve it, refuse it — which is costly and humbling and lonely, and which leaves nothing in the heart for a stranger to seize. Or it can decline to face it, and a heart that will not face its own evil does not thereby lose the evil; it loses only the knowledge of it, and becomes a room with something in it and the lights off — exactly the room a demagogue is looking for.

For this is what the demagogue offers, and it is the same gift in all three men: he tells the crowd that the darkness it will not look at in itself is real, and is out there, in them — the Jew, the kulak, the rightist, the class enemy — and that the hatred the people feel and will not own is therefore not a sin to repent but a righteousness to act on. He does not create the evil in the heart; he could not. He finds it already there, unfaced, and gives it a permission and a direction and a name. The heart that refused the hard, true word about itself receives instead the flattering, false word about its enemies, and is grateful, because the false word costs nothing and the true word costs everything. That reception is the capture. It is one soul taking a lie because it would not take a mirror — and then it is a thousand, and then it is a people, and at that number the unfaced evil of ordinary hearts, gathered and aimed, is the powder the results are made of.

Grace inverted

Stand this against the ascending octave and the inversion is exact, because the first grade change is the same structural place in both: the gap a life cannot cross on its own, waiting for an input from outside. In the bright octave that input is grace — the girl at Poitiers validated by an authority that recognizes something true; the one lifted over a gap by a gift she could not give herself, which she must be humble enough to receive. Here every term is reversed. The authority is false and the thing it validates is the crowd’s worst impulse; the input is not a truth received from beyond the self but a lie received in place of the truth the self refused; and the humility that opens a heart to grace is precisely what is missing, for the capture happens only because the heart would not be humbled by its own reflection. The demagogue is the anti-Poitiers: where grace says the true thing in you is real, rise to it, he says the false thing in you is righteous, act on it — and where grace must be received one humbled soul at a time, so must he, which is why he needs the crowd, and why the crowd, refusing grace, is available to him. Two inputs stand at this gap, the true and the flattering, and a people gets to the results by rejecting the first and receiving the second.

The symmetry, and the two measures

Here is the thing the section most needs said plainly, because it is the thing both halves of the world get wrong: the guilt at this gap is shared, and it is not shared equally, and both of those are true at once. The demagogue leads and the people follow, and neither could reach the result without the other. He cannot murder a people with his own hands; they will not organize the murder without his permission and his name. He offers the lie; they love to have it so — Jeremiah’s whole indictment in five words, the false prophet and the people who preferred him, named in one breath and condemned in one breath.

So there are two culpabilities, and they are of different weight. The demagogue’s is the greater, because he willed the result, and shaped the lie, and aimed the crowd, and is the inverted tonic of this whole octave; the corruption begins in him. But the crowd’s is real, and it is not the alibi the crowd always reaches for. “We only followed” is not innocence; it is the second half of the crime, because the following was a choice — the choice, made a million times over in a million private hearts, to take the flattering lie rather than face the true one, and then to lend the will its hands. The leader is guiltier. The led are not guiltless. Each answers in his own measure, and the measure of the led is exactly the size of the evil each one would not look at and handed, unexamined, to a man who promised to make it holy.

Why the first three notes

This is the point of the octave, and the reason the first three notes were built to turn the reader inward. The structure is not only describing how a man becomes a result; it is positioning the reader so that he cannot be the crossing. For the one defense against capture is the very thing the first three notes demanded and the demagogue requires its absence: to have already faced the evil in one’s own heart. The man who has owned his own cruelty cannot be sold the lie that cruelty is righteous, because he has already called it by its name; the man who has admitted his own appetite for the flattering story is the one man the flattering story cannot take. Honest self-knowledge is the inoculation, and it is the only inoculation, because every other defense — being educated, being decent, being on the right side, being sure it could not be you — is precisely the unfaced confidence the demagogue feeds on. The crowd is never recruited from people who know their own hearts. It is recruited from people certain they have no part in what they are about to do. That is why the section makes the reader say there but for the grace of God before it shows him the result: so that he crosses this gap as one who has looked, and not as one of the many who would not.

What it opens

Beyond this gap lie the three results, and they need no further engine than the one named here: a demagogue, a crowd of unfaced hearts, and the mutual fit between the lie offered and the lie loved. The shock is what carries the descent from the men into the deeds, and it is the most ordinary crossing in the whole dark octave, which is the warning. But it is also the most refusable, which is the hope — because it is made of individual choices, and a choice that a million people make wrongly is a choice that any one of them could have made rightly, by the unglamorous and available act of looking honestly at his own heart and declining the man who promised he need not. The demagogue cannot cross the gap without the crowd. The crowd is each of us, deciding, one heart at a time, whether to be it.


The first grade change — the crossing from the three men to the three results. Its claim: a man cannot become a result alone; the change that comes from outside him is the crowd — and the crowd is made one heart at a time by the refusal to face the evil the first three notes asked each reader to find in himself. The mechanism is capture: the demagogue does not create the evil in the heart but finds it unfaced, and gives it permission, direction, and an enemy’s name; the heart that refused the true word about itself receives the flattering lie, and multiplied en masse becomes the powder of the results. This is the first grade change inverted (grace inverted): where the ascending gap receives a true input from outside that a humble soul could not supply itself, this gap receives the flattering lie in place of the refused truth — the demagogue as the anti-Poitiers. The guilt is shared and unequal: the demagogue leads and is the greater (he wills, shapes, and aims it); the crowd follows and is not guiltless (“we only followed” is the second half of the crime); each answers in his own measure (Jeremiah 5:31 — the false prophets and “my people love to have it so”). And the structural point: honest self-recognition is the only inoculation, which is why the octave makes the reader find the man in his own heart before it shows him the result — so that he crosses this gap as one who has looked. Epigraph: Jeremiah 5:31. The inverse of the ascending first grade change (grace); companion to the crossing made together (Paper C6½: The Crossing). Epigraph: Jeremiah 5:31.


Paper D3: The Holocaust