In an unnamed country, the President of the Republican Council, wanting to "do something big," strikes upon the idea of building a 1,500-meter high mountain as an inspirational monument to national greatness. Construction of the mountain will reduce unemployment, attract hordes of tourists, and the idea can even be exported for sale to other countries.
Mountain R relates the rise and fall of this insane project through the eyes of those involved over several decades: the President whose double-talk sets the plan in motion, a worker who, years later, tells his daughter about the disastrous consequences of the never-completed mountain, and an author commissioned to write a novel about the project.
An incisive satire about the dangers of half-witted government officials who use political rhetoric to manipulate the patriotism of their constituents, Mountain R is a humorous yet disturbing allegory quite appropriate to our times.
Speaker of the House – The floor belongs to the president of the Republican Council.
The President of the Republican Council – We must do something. We must. Something must be done, something must be accomplished. It must not be said that we have not done anything. We must do more, and do it better than anyone else has ever done. And moreover, this extraordinary something, we will do it. We have already conceived it, and are here to make it official. This something even has a name, and its name is
The Mountain . . .
Republic Mountain . . . it is
Mountain R! Now
there’s a name that says it all. Mountain with a capital R. We shall call it henceforth
Mountain R. The Republic is magnificent—long live the Republic!—but it looks like a
flat-chested girl. Too bad! But we are going to alter here, the Republic . . . we are here to act . . . to give her what we can: a womanly figure. The most beautiful girl in the world can afford to give all she has and more, if that beautiful girl is the Republic . . . The republic of exceptional self-improvement! Is there anything more beautiful than a mountain? Anything healthier? We shall build a mountain. Among us let it be said, we are agreed! The meeting is adjourned. (Noise.) Of course not . . . I’m joking! The meeting has clearly just started! So . . . what do you have to say about my idea? We will build a mountain in the open air. Who is opposed? Calm down . . . obviously, you won’t have to vote yet! I’ve hardly begun to extol Mountain R for you, and, I warn you, I will not be brief, but rather, exhaustive. You know . . . no, you can’t know, but you must come to know . . . I’ll tell you a secret . . . When I was a little boy—I hear you saying: “That wasn’t yesterday!”—born on the working-class slopes of Petit-Monluc (that’s a secret from nobody), my grandmother used to say, poor woman, born there long before me, that she would cut off the ear (and she was being polite!) of the official who would level the slope or alter even the slightest part of the Basilica of the Precious-Blood (although she hated the priest and was not a good Catholic). I intend not to disappoint her, or, better stated, pull the rug out from under her poor dead feet. Action must be taken. We have been elected for that and we are not going to fail. It is true that we have been slightly delayed because we had to bring some order to the disastrous situation we were handed: this failed Republican (if it still merits that lovely adjective) budget in which debt has put more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese! (Applause from the right.) Now is the time. The republic is sick with ninety diseases. Not one fewer. Perhaps more. To cut to the chase, let’s say ninety-two. Ninety proven, two more for good measure. We’ve counted them. I’m not going to read you a list. This isn’t the place for it. You hate lists, and so do I. And then, you know these diseases all too well: you either fought them (the speaker indicates the seats to the right) or encouraged them to grow (the speaker indicates the seats to the left) . . . What do you think? Are we not short on time? Besides, a committee is ceaselessly working, at least I hope so . . . let’s wisely await its conclusions. Good. But let us not wait before acting and building. From this moment on, we can begin to sort out this mess we’ve created. The Republic is sick with three deadly diseases, and obviously a great many minor illness. There are the first two, upon which I won’t dwell: old age and eternal childishness . . . and finally the third: the great need for a far-reaching enterprise, for a spirited and mobilizing enterprise. The Republic is a stalled ship. It’s up to us to put wind in her sails! (The speaker waits for applause that does not come.) Therefore we’ve thought of this great notion of a grand mountain (which is no less a grand notion of a great mountain), which will provide members of the Republic with good air for the lungs, the fragrance of high-country pines, snow for the eye to admire, peace and quiet for our children, and skiing for all! Picture if you please the Republic, already visited by tourists, when by satellite and by word of mouth it will cry out its potential visitors, waiting at the four corners of the world, that we are the Republic of Mountain R! Do you doubt that this endeavor, so simple, this idea, so timely, will not attract the most jaded tourist, and even be exportable for sale throughout the wide and wonderful world? Can you imagine that countries are flat as Holland, as monotonous as Mongolia, to give only two examples, won’t declare themselves willing, the very next day, to acquire a ready-to-use mountain, after visiting our prototype? A sister mountain, daughter of our clever Republican know-how . . . Remember . . . Before we took charge of the Republic, they accused us of preparing to liquidate the Republican idea . . .
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