My Fellow Prisoners

Amnesty

In prison and camp, amnesties are endlessly discussed, rumoured, anticipated. Even when there is no reason to assume that an amnesty is on the cards.

And when this sacred word is actually pronounced, out there ‘on the outside’, it creates an atmosphere of universal hope. Inmates latch on to every word heard from relatives or on the radio, and pass it on. Just let that day of freedom be brought closer, if only by a month or so.

After all, conditional early release on parole is far from being an option for everyone. It could be that there are ongoing legal claims against you, which you can’t pay off; or the administration might be biased against you, particularly if you’re seen as ‘too clever by half’. Or the police or investigator who conducted your case might make an informal ‘request’ to deny release. Or else someone who doesn’t want you to be on the outside just pays a simple back-hander. There are many ways to stymy you, to send you back to your seat ‘until the bell goes’.

An amnesty is like waiting for a miracle to happen.

And then here it is! You get your hands on a draft of the proposed decree. You desperately search for your category of conviction to see whether it’s been amnestied. You find it – oh joy! Hope made flesh in paper and ink. You start calling your relatives; they experience delight, mixed with anxiety. And then you wait.

It’s only the old lags, whose lives can no longer brook illusion, who give a wry smile in answer to questions. So they are carefully given a wide berth. Scepticism is scary, even infuriating: how can you not believe in a miracle? Look, here it is, right in front of you: they’ve declared a ‘sweeping amnesty’, 150,000 people, it’s going to impact on everyone to some extent, surely…

The big day arrives. Everyone stands frozen in front of the radio, listening.

No! This can’t be! Not one person! Only 2,000 from all the camps?! And in any case that’s just women, juveniles and invalids, and not many of them even… But what about us?! Are they really saying there’s nothing, not even a day?! It can’t be true…

The old-timers’ eyes are sad. They don’t take any satisfaction in being proved right. It’s just the same as always. And as always they feel sorry for those who haven’t yet learned ‘not to believe’.

And then the call home is hard. To your mother, your wife. They already know, they understand everything. But you can’t help feeling as though it’s your fault that hope has been extinguished once again, and that years of separation still lie ahead.

Cruelty that begets cruelty. A society where goodness and empathy are seen as synonymous with madness. A country where people are no longer decapitated, nor, on the whole, martyred at the stake, but where we’re still not prepared to fight for every single life, every individual fate.

Friends, fellow citizens, we’re few and far between as it is, and every passing year we’re getting fewer.

Don’t you see, we’re fading away…

Let’s show some compassion for one another, while there’s still someone to feel it for.

And one last thing.

Pick up the phone, give your parents a call.