This idea is reinforced by the sense we get of Hašek’s intense dislike of any of the traditional justifications for organized control of human beings, whether judicial, religious, political, or military (and, perhaps more importantly, his assault on people’s faith in such justifications). His narrative is constantly mocking symbols for such control—everything from crucifixes and prayers to official images and law books (the novel begins with a discussion about a fly shitting on a portrait of the emperor). These signs of authority are all officially sanctioned, but no one believes in them; people simply use them as instruments of their own authority in a system which reinforces itself by reflex appeals to such traditions. This point is obvious enough in the lengthy treatment of Otto Katz in Part I, where the drunken Catholic priest (an ex-Jew) desperately scrambles for anything at all to use as the holy symbols necessary for the religious service over which he has to preside—a sporting cup for the chalice, machine oil for the last rites, and so on—these are essential to what he does, but fake materials will do just as well as the real thing because what matters is the bureaucratic public ritual and people’s faith in it—any genuine spiritual or ideal meaning has long since disappeared.
This continued mocking of official symbols emerges time and again in particular moments. Here, for example, is the description of Judge Advocate Ruller’s office:
Here Jesus is once again before the judge—but there’s no drama in the confrontation, because Jesus has become
