"Politicians." The word is spat rather than anything else the exclamation might be called. "Exploitation, manipulation." They leave a bad taste in his mouth, though the truth must be acknowledged in order that it might change. Jean-Jacques..."
He starts, then pauses, realizing that he is probably the only one in this conversation who knows Rousseau just now, and that not everyone calls a philosopher they admire so informally as that (granted, in the technical sense, Enjolras and his Jean-Jacques have been bed fellows many times, if one counts how many times he has fallen asleep over a volume of his work).
"Ah, sorry, a philosopher I greatly admired, said that everywhere men are born free, but they are held in chains, in bondage to those like you describe. A universal state, though I doubt he knew that other worlds could intersect in such a way as this. I would not be so good at it myself. I want some things so badly, need them even more that I do not trust myself. I would not place myself in a position, any position that could allow me the temptation to force change that no one else would have."
It had been different at home, persuading, taking up a cause already there, and throwing himself behind and into it with everything he had, but Enjolras in politics himself would be quite terrible he knew.
"For all that it is worth, I would have sooner worked to know the needs of others, to strike compromise in order that there may be some consensus. You speak of opposing opinion on so many points. We had precious many of those and little of compromise and mutual faith, when I last lived, even amongst those who stood united on the larger issues. That lack of unity loosened that faith we owned each other, tugged too much at the social knot that we had hoped would be a bond, and let it fray with much pressure instead. I think now that is part of why the victory I helped to win was moral, never practical."
The moral victory had been enough, but even so, knowing the situation now, being away from it enough to realize that, had clearly influenced his thinking on the matter, now that Enjolras re-examined it well enough. For his part, saying the things one wished to hear had been a necessary cover, and he'd hated it, but would have had things no different themselves, desired no special treatment that he had not earned. It may have been nice though, simply once, to say what he had wished to in the matter of opinion without making himself a greater target than he needed to be.
He is nodding now though, as Septimus speaks of command. In matters of armies themselves, instead of smaller groups of fighters, coordinated though they are, he does understand how a difference may arise, and in protecting the civilian, there is an honor he can understand too well.
His own life had been lent to him, he'd had no doubt of that, and he had been glad to use it in the greater service of not only La Marianne herself, but in the broader sense of Patria as well. Life and death for those who make her up, indeed. Even here and now, in a new world where the old hard and fast rules of his past do not apply, the principle remains the same, and yes, still worth the same things in the end.
no subject
He starts, then pauses, realizing that he is probably the only one in this conversation who knows Rousseau just now, and that not everyone calls a philosopher they admire so informally as that (granted, in the technical sense, Enjolras and his Jean-Jacques have been bed fellows many times, if one counts how many times he has fallen asleep over a volume of his work).
"Ah, sorry, a philosopher I greatly admired, said that everywhere men are born free, but they are held in chains, in bondage to those like you describe. A universal state, though I doubt he knew that other worlds could intersect in such a way as this. I would not be so good at it myself. I want some things so badly, need them even more that I do not trust myself. I would not place myself in a position, any position that could allow me the temptation to force change that no one else would have."
It had been different at home, persuading, taking up a cause already there, and throwing himself behind and into it with everything he had, but Enjolras in politics himself would be quite terrible he knew.
"For all that it is worth, I would have sooner worked to know the needs of others, to strike compromise in order that there may be some consensus. You speak of opposing opinion on so many points. We had precious many of those and little of compromise and mutual faith, when I last lived, even amongst those who stood united on the larger issues. That lack of unity loosened that faith we owned each other, tugged too much at the social knot that we had hoped would be a bond, and let it fray with much pressure instead. I think now that is part of why the victory I helped to win was moral, never practical."
The moral victory had been enough, but even so, knowing the situation now, being away from it enough to realize that, had clearly influenced his thinking on the matter, now that Enjolras re-examined it well enough. For his part, saying the things one wished to hear had been a necessary cover, and he'd hated it, but would have had things no different themselves, desired no special treatment that he had not earned. It may have been nice though, simply once, to say what he had wished to in the matter of opinion without making himself a greater target than he needed to be.
He is nodding now though, as Septimus speaks of command. In matters of armies themselves, instead of smaller groups of fighters, coordinated though they are, he does understand how a difference may arise, and in protecting the civilian, there is an honor he can understand too well.
His own life had been lent to him, he'd had no doubt of that, and he had been glad to use it in the greater service of not only La Marianne herself, but in the broader sense of Patria as well. Life and death for those who make her up, indeed. Even here and now, in a new world where the old hard and fast rules of his past do not apply, the principle remains the same, and yes, still worth the same things in the end.