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 The
Return Flight with Gogo
By
Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira
 The
airplane pierced the ugly clouds that obscured the sky of
Guanabara on this damp, winter evening. Somewhat tired from
the affairs of the day, I prepared to nap in the tepid warmth
of the airplane until our arrival in Congonhas. To my side,
a happily unoccupied seat provided the most delightful of
companions.
Unexpectedly, from the back of the
plane I heard the sound of the sonorous voice of Gogo, who
was telling someone: “Look, there’s Plinio! I need
to go over a matter with him. Excuse me, if you will.”
And another voice, less sonorous, solicitously replied, “But
of course. By all means.” I felt a flicker of agitation
toward the speaker whom Gogo was thus abandoning. But there
was not time for this sentiment to take deep root in me, for
Gogo was already approaching. And, as he eased himself into
the chair at my side, I remembered the promise that I had
made that morning: “Let us continue our skirmish.”
Once seated, he proffered a little smile that wanly illuminated
his coin-shaped face.
A promise is an obligation. That morning,
upon arriving in Rio, I had invited Gogo – in the heat
of our discussion – to a new debate on the return flight.
Now, it only remained for me to accept the second round. I
turned toward Gogo with an expression that I believed to be
perfectly affable. And Gogo began:
Gogo: “Well, then, shall we return
to the subject of the ‘TPF’?”
I: “TFP, Gogo.”
Gogo: “Why is it, after all, that
you don’t like to be called, ‘TPF’?”
I: “Come now! Would you like to
be called Ogog instead of Gogo?”
Gogo: “Actually, it makes little
difference to me whether you call me Ogog or Gogo. I hate
this nickname, which, because of some smart-aleck schoolmates,
has been following me through life, like an ugly tail that
an animal drags around behind itself.”
I felt sorry for Gogo. I, however,
had nothing for which I need accuse myself, for I had had
no part in dubbing him that, nor had I ever given a nickname
to anyone.
At any rate, I continued:
I: “Well, Gogo, it is a different
matter with TFP. We bear our name with the pride of a warrior
raising his standard. And we pronounce its letters with the
enthusiasm of heralds who launch their cries of victory. Because
of this, any change in the order of the letters that make
up our name is not acceptable to us. To say ‘TPF’
is the maneuver of a toad.* Are you a toad,
Gogo?”
Gogo: “My sister Maria always
says that she is a toad, even when she was a nun. And she
calls her children little toads. Her husband also calls her
a toad. Poor, lazy Telesphorus! I don’t know if he is
a toad or whatever. But Maria says that he is. And he goes
along with her. As for me, I follow the example of Maria –
and am also a toad,” Gogo ended with a little smile.
I: “This is because it is to your
advantage to be a toad. A toad doesn’t have a long tail,
does it?”
Gogo: “If I’m a toad, then
you’re a medieval fanatic. You are always thinking about
the Middle Ages. Even here, traveling on this modern airplane,
you speak of heralds, warriors and standards just as naturally
as if you were a Christian warrior mounted on your charger
on some dusty road of the Holy Land.”
I: “And what would you like me
to do? To refrain from speaking of these things merely because
I am on an airplane?”
Gogo: “I wish that you would just
not speak. For it is easy to see that the whole idea you have
of tradition is a certain nostalgia for the Middle Ages. What
the whole TFP wants, at all costs, is to preserve everything
that remains from it. It would even like to resurrect many
other things that Luther, the French Revolution and the twentieth
century have buried forever.”
Gogo ended this tirade indignantly.
I: “You are right, Gogo, in that
we think that everything handed down to us as our legacy from
the Middle ages should be preserved. I no longer speak only
of our eyeglasses, our buttons and our watches, which I mentioned
in our last conversation. I also refer to the hospitals, which,
as you know, took their form and substance in the Middle Ages,
as well as the universities. To this age we also owe the Gothic
cathedrals and castles that tourists the world over travel
to Europe to visit. And I could cite many other things like
this. Would you like to see all these things destroyed?”
Gogo: “Nothing of the sort! The
Middle Ages was a time of gross illiteracy, which ended only
when Gutenberg invented the printing press. Then the written
word, which hit Europe like a bolt of lightning, put an end
to medieval ignorance.”
I: “I am surprised that you do
not see the contradiction in this so often-repeated myth.
How could the written word travel like lightening through
a continent of illiterates? This would be like affirming the
success of the radio in a country of deaf people.”
Gogo: “You TFP people are always
trying to go backward. Yet everything in today’s world
is advancing!”
I: “And what do you call ‘advancement”?
Today’s decadence of the written word, which is being
increasingly replaced by pictures and cartoons? Isn’t
this really a return to illiteracy? In that case, since you
imagine the Middle Ages to be illiterate, you should conclude
that the world is turning back to the Middle Ages. However,
to my way of thinking, it is returning even further –
to the invasions by the barbarian hordes.”
Gogo: “What I find medieval are
your young men in their suits and ties carrying their standards.
Today's youth like more relaxed clothing, uninhibited manners
and disheveled hair."
I: "The barbarians who invaded
the Roman Empire fulfilled your idea most perfectly, Gogo.
They had no
inhibitions. Their hair was in complete disarray. They wore
no trace of a coat or tie. They were, in this respect, somewhat
like the hippies. Only even more an avant-garde than the latter."
Gogo: "Why don't you just stop
wearing those jackets and ties?"
I: "Oh, Gogo, do you really think
they date from the Middle Ages?"
Gogo: "Like I said, why don't
you just finish with them?"
I: "And why should we not wear
them? If one wears a jacket and tie to lend seriousness to
his work, why
should one not also wear them to lend seriousness to the interior
life?"
Gogo: "Don't make me laugh! Seriousness
in the interior life! Look, my fellow, what we need today
is to know how to laugh, to enjoy ourselves, to sing, to be
happy."
I: "Yes, in the times appropriate
for these things. But the greater part of the day we should
pray, think, work and fulfill our duties."
Gogo: "No, all this is what needs
to go! All this mystical or metaphysical seriousness of the
man of past times. This is what formed the foundation for
the sacral, disciplined and hierarchical world of the Middle
Ages. I want to topple the remains of this world and build
the opposite kind of world. And there are legions of people
who think like I do."
I: "Gogo, while I detest your
philosophy, I like your frankness. You want to destroy a world
in order to
demolish the moral conceptions upon which it is founded. Just
as the TFP wants to preserve and apply these same moral conceptions
to their very fullest extent. In final analysis, the TFP wants
a Christian civilization. And you want a hippie, nudist, anarchist
and materialistic, fun-loving world."
Gogo: "You praise my frankness.
My sister Maria always tells me that I talk too much, that
one shouldn't tell everyone all that he is thinking. She would
be furious if she knew that I told you all this."
I: "Thank you. Then I am one of
those who shouldn't be told everything?"
Gogo: "No, worse than that. You
are the head of the TFP."
I: "Gogo, Christian civilization
is in ruins and barbarism is entering through every breach
in the walls. For it to rise again, it is necessary to reconstruct
the principles and moral virtues upon which it was based."
Gogo: "To reconstruct the Middle
Ages, then?"
I: "Certainly these virtues of
the Middle Ages had a radiating force that at times penetrated
into the centuries that followed. But these virtues, as such,
are not only for the Middle Ages. They are for all times.
Because of their decline, we have the present-day catastrophe.
And it is only by restoring them that a new Christian era
can be born!"
Gogo: "That is just what you would
expect from a TFP-style rationale. Backwardness and narrow-mindedness."
I: "Look, I have clipped here
for you this passage written by a modern journalist, Walter
Lippmann. He had nothing in common with the TFP. Read what
he had to say: 'Our civilization can only be maintained and
restored by the remembrance and rediscovery of past truths,
and by the reestablishment of the virtuous habits upon which
it was founded.' "
***
Gogo was nervous. He hastily read the
lines from the text. Then, instead of responding, he began
to gather up his things. The airplane was descending. He explained:
"Maria told Telesphorus to be in the lobby waiting for
me at 5 o'clock. I don't want to make him wait any longer."
I looked at my watch. It was 8:30
p.m.
And I sadly thought, "Poor Telesphorus!'
For I realized that Maria Gondola had sent him because she
did not want the bother of waiting for her brother. Yet, at
the same time, I breathed a sigh of relief. After arguing
with Gogo during the whole trip, to be forced to make small
talk with Maria Gondola would be too much!
***
To reassure my readers, I have to say
that Gogo and Maria Gondola do not really exist. They are
products of my imagination.
But I believe that there are many Gogos
and many Maria Gondolas roaming about the world today saying
bad things about the TFP.
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