Michael Moorcock

There is less danger, gentlemen, in living according to a set of high moral principles than most politicians believe.

In an infinite universe, all may become real sooner or later. Yet it is always up to mankind to make real what it really wishes to be real.

“You have no proof of this,” I said.

“No. But a theory must be tested to be disproved, Mr Bastable.”

Gandhi had been right. There was only one way to behave, even if it seemed, in the short term, against one’s self-interest. Surely it was in one’s self-interest in the long term to exhibit generosity, humanity, kindness and a sense of justice to one’s fellow men. It was cynicism of Beesley’s kind which had, after all, led to the threatened extinction of the whole human race. There could be no such thing s a “righteous” war, for war was by its very nature an act of injustice against the individual, but there could be such a thing as an “unrighteous” war—an evil war, a war begun by men who were utterly corrupt, both morally and intellectually. I had begun to think that it was a definition of those who would make war—that whatever motives they claimed, whatever ideals they promoted, whatever “threat” they referred to, they could not be excused—because of their actions they could only be of a degenerate and immoral character.

“I was wondering what made a decent English army officer turn into a desperate revolutionist overnight,” I smiled.

“It happens to many like that,” he said. “I have seen them. But you have to show them so much injustice first... Nobody wants to believe that the world is cruel—or that one’s own kind are cruel. Not to know cruelty is to remain innocent, eh? And we should all like to remain innocent. A revolutionist is a man who, perhaps, fails to keep his innocence but so desperately wants it back that he seeks to create a world where all shall be innocent in that way.”

“What a great power women have,” he said. “I have recently been speaking with Ilbrec of magic, but the greatest magic of all is in the kiss of a woman.”

He wondered if, in achieving such a noble way of life, a people became automatically vulnerable to destruction by those who had not achieved it. If so, it was an irony of cosmic proportions.

It’s what they call a “theocracy”—priest-ridden in the extreme, full of dark superstitions and darker myths and legends, where all gods and demons are honoured, doubtless to be on the safe side. The people are cruel, ignorant, dirty and proud—they look down their noses at all other races.

“The whole question of morality…”

“Is as nothing when one’s stomach rumbles,” said Jhary.

“Once such a strength of illusion is introduced into a world,” said Goffanon, “then it is hard to be rid of it. It will cloud the Mabden minds for many millennia to come. I know that I am right.”

Paternalism and centralism, the bane of capitalist as well as socialist politics, are for me the permanent enemy of democracy.

There are those who have an interest in using legends and superstitions for their own ends. They cherish such notions not for their own sake but for the use to which they can be put. Poor, wretched people who cannot love life seek for something beyond life, something they prefer to regard as better than life. And, as a result, they corrupt the knowledge they discover and, in turn, associate their own weaknesses with this knowledge—at least, in the minds of others like myself.

“But the knowledge you have brought us, Corum—that extends our appreciate of life. You speak of a variety of worlds where mankind flourishes. You offer us information which brings light to our understanding, where the corrupt and the lost speak only of mysteries and dark superiorities and seek to elevate themselves in their own eyes and the eyes of their fellows.