"The Red Pashallars": Was Ismail Kadare for or against Enver?

Mihal Kalia   

Very intriguing have been the opinions expressed about the poem "The Red Pashallars" (actually the original title of the poem is "At noon the Political Bureau met", but now it is known by another title as "The Red Pashallars", so in this writing will be referred to as such) before it became known to the mass of readers, it almost constituted the apogee where the enigma of Ismail Kadare's creativity was hidden; the love of those who hated him and the hatred of those who adored him. The publication of the poem stopped this capture of feelings, however, the "mystic spirit" that clothed this poem, has caused that from time to time, from "sympathizers", attention is focused on the values ​​of ideological opposition to the communist regime, through a creation with artistic claims modest.

Some researchers are of the opinion that the meaning of the poem "Red Pashalarlar" is the unmasking of the socialist reality. But they do not tell us how they reach this conclusion, how the details of the text lead to and justify this answer. Symbolism!

How is it expressed in the text? What is the combination of words, what relations are created between the form and the meaning, especially since these relations are based on agreement?

This is literature and its art! What makes this poem symbolic? What makes it allegorical or ironic? To whom does our attitudes towards the characters, in the specific case of socialism and bureaucracy, sympathies or antipathies, through the details of the text, towards the government or the overthrown? What is the optics in dealing with the working class and the people, that of deifying the Party and unmasking the bureaucracy from it, or the opposite?

Bureaucracy is given as strength, nerve, energy, vital for the Party and socialism, or as gangrene and a tumor that must be uprooted to guarantee a healthy life and party-people compactness, in addition to vigilance against the overturned classes? How is the author's attitude given in the text? What strength does he see as the guarantee for the country's development and progress?

All these must be answered within the text and not in what the author thought during the creation of the work, or "what the author thought the work meant after it was done" (Xh. Kaller). And, when the author is excluded in determining the meaning of the work in the time during and after its conception, it is understood what place they occupy and how well-argued are the responses of researchers based on such time indicators.

The symbolism of the poem lies in its title: "The red pashallars", which expresses the attitude towards the pretense of these "pashallars" and, being the object of the entire poem, this pretense is under attack, aimed at the author, to strip them them from the color red and to expose them as they are, dark and poisonous. This is where the line of the poem begins, because the title is the most significant expression of the content, it has a double semantics, compressed in thought, pulsating throughout the text.

In support of the line of the poem, asserted by I. Kadareja, that it is against the order, one of the discussants on the TV show Top Channel (dt. 21.10.2018) explains that "the reds were the communists", so the poem is against the regime. That red symbolizes communism is not a finding of the author of the poem, and even more so of scholars who "don't understand" that they are dealing with an artistic and not a political work. The matter is different if the "red pashalars" are the communists, but in this case the word "pashalars" would be redundant, because the word "reds" would be sufficient.

Separating the word "red" from "pashallars" takes the latter out of play, making the line of the poem distorted, while "pashallars" is the character where the point of view is centered in both types of narration, outside and internally. The separation of the two words of the title also destroys its symbolism, changing the objective. The symbolism lies neither in the word "pashalars" nor in "red", but in "red pashalars", which constitutes a monstrous hybrid with this unnatural rape, with this symbolic robbery, which artistically outlines an increase in the intensity of the action , through the oxymoron, this opposition, which will be preserved throughout the poem, thus witnessing the final division between the "red pashalars" and the "red ones".

The continuity of the line of the poem lies in the fact of the semantic composition of the phrase "the red pashalars", the syntactic relations, which in our case are the determining ones, with the movement of the determiner (red) towards the determined (the pashalars) and not the other way around , which gives the word "pashalars" the metaphorical function (reds like pashalars and not pashalars as reds) and, as long as the metaphor has this comparative orientation, it means that the conflict is internal to the "reds", between them and the decomposers of this colors, which in the poet's view constitute a danger to the regime, as much as the overthrown ones.

The artistic genius grabs you with wild imaginations, when you see very vividly the ghosts that wander in the dark night, that warn of the death of the red color, that strip the revolution and dress in the clothes of bloody rulers. Nightmare! Dream merges with reality, darkness with light, martyrs with the overthrown, virtue with infidelity, regime with bureaucracy. The poetry has concern, anxiety, concern, sympathy, hatred, which, in the opposition bureaucracy - regime, find shelter in the line of making the bureaucracy a slave of the class dictatorship.

Where is the symbolism in washing the blood of the fallen, to understand the opposite?! It is the writer's vision of the future, which does not seem to run parallel to that of the leader, who, although he criticizes him for softening the situation, for undermining the imperialist-revisionist encirclement, he himself does not have the writer's vision and that he started to rust the blade of the political sword, which no longer has the sharpness of the literary-artistic sword. And the rebukes run parallel: the artistic one, benevolent and warning, as well as the political one, selfish and restraining. Who speculates with Kadare's verses? Yesterday's politics, or today's? Both speculate. And, among them, stands Kadareja herself, winking at yesterday and grasping today's cheeks. E. Hoxha criticized the poem from the position of the intellectual, today's people oppose it from the position of the poet.

Enver Hoxha is wrong when he thinks that he is presented alone in poetry, just as the researcher or critic is wrong today who does not see his figure as a generalization of the revolutionary war, of honoring the fallen and holding up the ideal for which they gave their lives.

So, if it comes to a symbol, the symbolism lies exactly in the figure of E. Hoxha, who comes "as in the epic ballads" and not as a destroyer, but as a savior. If the regime is overthrown, the symbolism of poetry cannot be overthrown, alienated or replaced and, if this happens, poetry ceases to exist and then critics no longer appreciate the writer but the politician, they do not enjoy art but politics and, as a consequence it is in this second, it is a matter that even Kadareja herself does not want to attract our attention like this, but for the first, there we are lucky to enter a world of infinite wealth, from which we come out endowed with such light and brightness that we can see and understand the wanderings of the uriths in the dampness and darkness of the night, that, when the day dawns, they, like ghosts that leave when they hear the crowing of the cock, show themselves to the offices in the uniforms of decorations, faded in the face by the weariness of the night, cured with the shadow of death, to powder the face of the revolution with it.

Symbolism is not created by the reader, critic or researcher, but is understood and explained, always in reference, present in the poem as a being (figure), idea, atmosphere, as unquestionable truths, which give direction to the interpretation of the symbol, extending the meanings and not subverting them.

With the intuition of the creator, with the concern for the fate of the revolution, with the responsibility of the citizen, the poet felt that the sects and coercions had "irrigated" him with such an abundance of water that with their rains they were washing away the blood of the fallen. The blood of the martyrs, of the knights of freedom during the centuries of the existence of this people and its lands, cannot become water congealed or mixed with the soil, the earth, the air; they remain the inspiration, the guarantee and the fire of our life, so it is not possible to find the sieve of discoloration, nor the lever of the overthrow of the centuries, because that would be the biggest burden that they carry on their backs and that they want to empty from it the blood-stained and horribly. The poet doesn't want and can't bear even an attempt to go back, not because of the fact of the final success, but because of the consequences that the conspired nonsense can bring. So give the alarm. He can't stand it. This brought the anger of "Zeus", who released the flaming arrows and burned with them what was bothering him, near him, because the flame was further extinguished by the moisture of the ashes. This was the poet's sin. Zeus did not accept this service of his.

But, and if the writer agrees with this rejection, his art does not agree, the omnipresence and omnipotence, with which he operates, but now "what is important is not what was intended during the beginning of the poem, or what it means after its completion. , but what he embodied in it" (Xh. K). And the truth is in his art, with which he cannot make compromises, as anyone can do in any other aspect of life and momentary interests.

The first question that arises, once you get to know the criticisms of the poem "Red Pashallar", is: Does the poem condemn the communist regime, the dictatorship of the proletariat, or the bureaucracy? According to E. Hoxha, who guided the attitude towards poetry and the poet of all subsequent analyses, poetry is considered anti-regime, dangerous, hostile. According to the poem itself, it strongly condemns the bureaucracy, seeing in it, if ignored, the corrosive tendency like a moth, the danger of destruction and overthrow of the regime.

The interpretation of the regime-bureaucracy relationship, gives the poem, from the point of view of socialist ideas and reality, a revolutionary or hostile color? Would it be enough, in the anti-communist regime, that the poetry, only for individual reasons of E. Hoxha was whipped to the point of hostility, be considered as dissident, anti-communist poetry? Kadare's poetry was a warning of the fall of the regime and the fact that he emphasizes those issues, which in principle the Party dealt with constantly, guaranteeing invincibility and continuity based on unity with the people, is seen by the leader as a tendency to rise above the Party and show such could not be other than hostile, since poetry guides the implementation of principles in reality, which Enver could not bear. And what the poet did not want to happen happened.

Time confirmed Kadare's doubts and not E. Hoxha's guarantee and assurance that "the Party and socialism are strong as steel". The events that took place in Albania showed the opposite, that socialism was shaking and that the Party was losing its strength to withstand all kinds of pressure, from outside and inside the country, this reality, the finding of which was not considered a call for action, but as an expression of hostility to the dictatorship of the proletariat. The regime was overthrown, the bureaucracy took power, the overthrown rose, martyrs and heroes were desecrated, traitors and enemies of the country and the people were raised on a pedestal, even criminals and murderers, being honored by the "democratic" state as patriots and patriots . Isn't that what Kadareja wanted?!

Ismail Kadare saw the danger of socialism in the bureaucrats, as well as in the overthrown classes, whose bloody costume they wore, with ranks and moles. They corrode the revolution from within, in the name of defending socialism, but the poet sees bloody hands up to the elbow. And they are not of the buried subversives, but they are living disturbers of the foundations of the revolution. The poet's concern is alarming, appealing for a constant struggle against the bureaucratism of the bureaucrats, who in the poet's view have merged into one with the overthrown class, against which the revolutionary vigilance must be of the highest degree, in order not to allowed bloodshed, which would cost the Party, the people and socialism dearly. Is it possible that the poet's hostility towards the regime should be found in this prophecy?! Aren't they the ones who have bled the people today, to the point of spectacular demonstrations of state murder? Are they not the descendants of the overthrown who today full of courage threaten the victors with a bullet? Why does the poet predict, feel and raise his voice for the possible tragedy, E. Hoxha calls it counter-revolutionary? What enmity is expressed in the verses:

"I'm holding the class that overturned under my feet!

If not tomorrow firing squad

To put you on the wall

To the big Boulevard!".

Who is that politician, ideologist, analyst or critic, who sees hostility in this prophecy of the poet, who predicted in detail what actually happened after nearly forty years. How can these verses express opposition to the regime, as pseudo-intellectuals are trying to present today, who are unable to understand the strength of the poet's art in these verses, which are proven in our reality, nor which are thought to be the opposite of the poet's aspiration, which would then line him up in front of the "firing squad".

***

AT NOON THE POLITICAL BUREAU MEETED

Poetry by: Ismail Kadare

1.

At noon the Politburo met.

I wonder what happened in the northern borders.

What happens in the southern borders?

The sky is cloudy and winter brings snow.

The inverted classes did not move,

No disaster in production.

Have the ambassadors not left yet?

Disturbing radiographs.

No. State borders are quiet.

There is no alarm news from the embassies.

And under the dictatorship of the proletariat,

The former big castes hibernate.

And production is normal and days

The usual flow in December…

Why so suddenly?

At noon, the Politburo meets?

2.

States never break through the roofs.

Too much can drip somewhere.

From the foundations they are broken

This law

The socialist state also obeys.

May everything look beautiful above,

Socialist race, singing, eat.

And banners and labor heroes

In the local newspaper in I Maj.

Congratulatory telegrams, bright sun

At rallies, poems of young writers

But down

right on the foundations

Slowly growing black tumor.

For the enemies, we have the balls, the hymns, the dances.

Embassies that tell something about them.

What do we have for bureaucratism?

Balls don't drink water

and there are no consuls there.

3.

Between letters, telephones,

paper suckers

Those scenes always fill up

Enough of this benevolent laughter

Bureaucrats are another thing.

Not with pelican paint running,

Like a bunch of nice ho, ho, ho,

But horrible

with bloody hands

I see them all over the world.

I see them there deep in the mess.

At the foundations of the revolution exactly.

What do they do like that?

why the bodies of the martyrs

They turn right, left and

upside down?

without looking

the bodies seem to wash them.

They want to quickly wipe the blood from the foundations.

And after the blood the bequests they left,

Ideals and principles altogether.

And how to eradicate the blood seal,

Oh, they know it's easy then

To change the revolution, the dictatorship

Of the workers

its essence.

There you go, there on your knees

They wash and rinse the blood without stopping

What happened to them suddenly?

Why did they stop?

To a deserted yrt, to a wasteland.

Here are buried the overturned:

Fathers, bachelors, big families

They attack, the troops turn around and start

To strip them with a rush of hate.

Robes of bloody rulers

Moles wear quickly.

And with them on his shoulders through the night

They run towards the morning like torrents.

4.

And morning comes,

Pale, frozen,

Under the mantles with moles and crowns

They go to offices, ministries,

They even go up to the Central Committee.

Red bastards. Beyler with party cards

Baron-Secretary. Oil boss. Verse.

In gloomy procession, under liturgy hymns

They take the coffin of the revolution to the grave...

5.

But the external appearance was different

Smiles, fist shakes at the rally

Simplicity at uncle Kamberi, at X grandma,

And the words "Enver", "party", "self-criticism".

It was like that during the day and at night

They went down to the ground again.

But the revolution was not Rozafat's fortress

Who endured the day and night and the night.

6.

Enver Hoxha, his sharp eye

He was the first to suspect them.

And then in the foundations of the state

It went down like in the great ballads.

He held a red torch in his hand.

The ground trembled

The flame fell on them.

And he saw them spilling the blood of the martyrs

They were sharing their cloaks with each other.

"Here, where have you been!"

They froze.

- Oh, friend Enver, hm, long live, oy!-

But he frowned with pain in every gray

Like a mountain in winter it thundered.

Christ, he was not there to expel them

From power with a whip and a stick.

He raised the class of workers.

To make bureaucracy zap.

7.

Like the partisan patrols used to be

Labor control teams travel.

So that they don't take the ministries by the balls Tomorrow.

Today we take them under control.

Class dictatorship is only in rhymes

And on the birthday of the veteran turner.

Are you for socialism?

Run in rows

Announce everywhere and on everyone

worker control.

Make bureaucracy day and night,

I'm holding the class that overturned under my feet.

If not tomorrow the firing squad

To put you on the wall at Boulevard i Madh.

8.

The days fly by.

The whirlwind of events

Through the seasons and years, they elaborate furiously

Party plenums come like soldiers

Of the revolution

in the storm.

Walk the class after the party on epic days,

The people after the class pour the ocean

And the Political Bureau did not meet again

Noon or midnight

almost all of them are.