Kafka's The Trial

On entering he almost stumbled, for behind the door was an extra step. "They don't show much consideration for the public," he said. "They show no consideration of any kind," replied the usher. "Just look at this waiting room," It was a long passage, a lobby communicating by ill-fitting doors with the different offices on the floor. Although there was no window to admit light, it was not entirely dark, for some of the offices were not properly boarded off from the passage but had an open frontage of wooden rails, reaching, however, to the roof, through which a little light penetrated and through which one could see a few officials as well, some writing at their desks, and some standing close to the rails peering through the interstices at the people in the lobby. There were only a few people in the lobby, probably because it was Sunday. They made a very modest showing. At almost regular intervals they were sitting singly along a row of wooden benches fixed to either side of the passage. All of them were carelessly dressed, though to judge from the expression of their faces, their bearing, the cut of their beards, and many almost imperceptible little details, they obviously belonged to the upper classes. As there was no hat-rack in the passage, they had placed their hats under the benches, in this probably following each other's example. When those who were sitting nearest the door caught sight of K. and the usher , they rose politely, followed in turn by their neighbors, who also seemed to think it necessary to rise, so that everyone stood as the two men passed. They did not stand quite erect, their backs remained bowed, their knees bent, they stood like street beggars. K. waited for the usher, who kept slightly behind him, and said: "How humbled they must be!" "Yes," said the usher, "these are the accused men, all of them are defendants." "Indeed!" said K. "Then they're colleagues of mine." And he turned to the nearest, a tall, slender, almost gray-haired man. "What are you waiting here for?" asked K. courteously. But this unexpected question confused the man, which was the more deeply embarrassing as he was obviously a man of the world who would have known how to comport himself anywhere else and would not lightly have renounced his natural superioritiy. Yet in this place he did not know even how to reply to a simple question and gazed at the others as if it were their duty to help him, as if no one could expect him to answer should help not be forthcoming. Then the usher stepped up and said, to reassure the man and encourage him: "This gentleman merely asked what you are waiting for. Come, give him an answer." The familar voice of the usher had its effect: "I'm waiting---" the man started to say, but could get out no more. He had obviously begun by intending to make an exact reply to the question, but did not know how to go on. Some of the other clients had drifted up and now clustered round, and the usher said to them: "Off with you, keep the passage clear." They drew back a little , but not to their former places. Meanwhile the man had collected himself and actually replied with a faint smile: "A month ago I handed in several affidavits concerning my case and I am waiting for the result." "You seem to put yourself to a great deal of trouble," said K. "Yes," said the man, "for it is my case." "Everyone doesn't think as you do," said K. "For example, I am under arrest too, but as sure as i stand here I have neither put in any affidavit nor attempted anything whatever of the kind. Do you consider such things necessary, then?" "I can't exactly say," replied the man, once more deprived of all assurance; he evidently thought that K. was making fun of him, appeared to be on the point of repeating his first answer all over again for fear of making a new mistake, but unde K.'s impatient eye he merely said: "Anyhow, I have handed in my affidavits." "Perhaps you don't believe that I'm under arrest?" asked K. "Oh, yes, certainly," said the man, stepping somewhat aside, but there was no belief in his answer, merely apprehension. "So you don't really believe me?" asked K. and, provoked without knowing it by the man's humility, he seized him by the arm as if to compel him to believe. He had no wish to hurt him, and besides had grasped him quite loosely, yet the man cried out as if K. had gripped him him with glowing pincers instead of with two fingers. That ridiculous outcry was too much for K.; if the man would not believe that he was unde arrest, so much the better; perhaps he actually took him for a Judge. As a parting gesture he gripped the man with real force, flung him back on the bench, and went on his way.

These people being arrested including K. are all relatively well off. This would suggest some kind of class war; communists arresting the rich; and on no real charges as no one including K. has any idea what they've actually done.

But it's not some powerful establishment doing the arresting.

The Examining Magistrate surely could not be sitting waiting in a garret. The little wooden stairway did not reveal anthing, no matter how long one regarded it. But K. noticed a small card pinned up beside it, and crossing over he read in childish, unpracticed handwriting: "Law Court Offices upstairs," So the Law Court offices were up in the attics of this tenement? That was not an arrangement likely to inspire much respect, andfor an accused man it was reassuring to reckon how little money this Court could have at its disposal when it housed its offices in a part of the building where the tenants, who themselves belonged to the poorest of the poor, flung their useless lumber.

And it's shown over and over again that K. practically goes out of his way to take part despite the complete and utter lack of force directed against him. He shows up this Sunday despite not being asked for at all and isn't even wanted that weekend. (This after walking out the week before refusing to take part.)

What is it actually that is persecuting K. and these other people? Is it just themselves? Is this pretty tame shadow organization just something they've vaguely put together in the back of there minds... constantly accusing them of... what? Just constantly persecuting them in general?

Considering his other work Kafka may have meant more than that. I don't know.

I hate to say it... but it looks a lot like Kafka is saying it's the poor persecuting the rich for no justifiable reason. And that furthermore these poor are kind of idiotic. And that furthermore, oh those rich people, wonderful souls that they are, are even helping and persecuting themselves possibly... willingly going along with the show when they need not do so.

Hope that isn't what he's saying.