Attempts to locate oneself within history are as natural, and as absurd, as attempts to locate oneself within astronomy. On the day that I was born, 13 April 1949, nineteen senior Nazi officials were convicted at Nuremberg, including Hitler's former envoy to the Vatican, Baron Ernst von Weizsacker, who was found guilty of planning aggression against Czechoslovakia and committing atrocities against the Jewish people. On the same day, the State of Israel celebrated its first Passover seder and the United Nations, still meeting in those days at Flushing Meadow in Queens, voted to consider the Jewish state's application for membership. In Damascus, eleven newspapers were closed by the regime of General Hosni Zayim. In America, the National Committee on Alcoholism announced an upcoming 'A-Day' under the non-uplifting slogan: 'You can drink—help the alcoholic who can't.' ('Can't'?) The International Court of Justice at The Hague ruled in favor of Britain in the Corfu Channel dispute with Albania. At the UN, Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko denounced the newly formed NATO alliance as a tool for aggression against the USSR. The rising Chinese Communists, under a man then known to Western readership as Mao Tze-Tung, announced a limited willingness to bargain with the still-existing Chinese government in a city then known to the outside world as 'Peiping.'
All this was unknown to me as I nuzzled my mother's breast for the first time, and would certainly have happened in just the same way if I had not been born at all, or even conceived. One of the newspaper astrologists for that day addressed those whose birthday it was:
There are powerful rays from the planet Mars, the war god, in your horoscope for your coming year, and this always means a chance to battle if you want to take it up. Try to avoid such disturbances where women relatives or friends are concerned, because the outlook for victory upon your part in such circumstances is rather dark. If you must fight, pick a man!
Sage counsel no doubt, which I wish I had imbibed with that same maternal lactation, but impartially offered also to the many people born on that day who were also destined to die on it. Christopher Hitchens
Stichwörter: history war united-states censorship antisemitism alcohol diplomacy china gods birth astronomy communism newspapers jews nazis hitler ussr prohibition israel birthdays britain alcoholism astrology vatican mao united-nations corfu mars damascus albania andrei-gromyko beijing breastfeeding communist-party-of-china corfu-channel-incident czechoslovakia ernst-von-weizsacker flushing-meadows flushing-queens horoscopes hosni-zayim international-court-of-justice nato nuremberg passover-seder the-hague
Very often the test of one's allegiance to a cause or to a people is precisely the willingness to stay the course when things are boring, to run the risk of repeating an old argument just one more time, or of going one more round with a hostile or (much worse) indifferent audience. I first became involved with the Czech opposition in 1968 when it was an intoxicating and celebrated cause. Then, during the depressing 1970s and 1980s I was a member of a routine committee that tried with limited success to help the reduced forces of Czech dissent to stay nourished (and published). The most pregnant moment of that commitment was one that I managed to miss at the time: I passed an afternoon with Zdenek Mlynar, exiled former secretary of the Czech Communist Party, who in the bleak early 1950s in Moscow had formed a friendship with a young Russian militant with an evident sense of irony named Mikhail Sergeyevitch Gorbachev. In 1988 I was arrested in Prague for attending a meeting of one of Vaclav Havel's 'Charter 77' committees. That outwardly exciting experience was interesting precisely because of its almost Zen-like tedium. I had gone to Prague determined to be the first visiting writer not to make use of the name Franz Kafka, but the numbing bureaucracy got the better of me. When I asked why I was being detained, I was told that I had no need to know the reason! Totalitarianism is itself a cliché (as well as a tundra of pulverizing boredom) and it forced the cliché upon me in turn. I did have to mention Kafka in my eventual story. The regime fell not very much later, as I had slightly foreseen in that same piece that it would. (I had happened to notice that the young Czechs arrested with us were not at all frightened by the police, as their older mentors had been and still were, and also that the police themselves were almost fatigued by their job. This was totalitarianism practically yawning itself to death.) A couple of years after that I was overcome to be invited to an official reception in Prague, to thank those who had been consistent friends through the stultifying years of what 'The Party' had so perfectly termed 'normalization.' As with my tiny moment with Nelson Mandela, a whole historic stretch of nothingness and depression, combined with the long and deep insult of having to be pushed around by boring and mediocre people, could be at least partially canceled and annealed by one flash of humor and charm and generosity.
Christopher HitchensStichwörter: politics history humour dissent bureaucracy totalitarianism irony boredom communism generosity cliches russia police loyalty mediocrity exile charm commitment arguments detention nelson-mandela 1970s allegiance arrest kafka moscow czechoslovakia 1950s 1968 1980s 1988 bad-crowds charter-77 gorbachev prague vaclav-havel zdenek-mlynar
And thus to my final and most melancholy point: a great number of Stalin's enforcers and henchmen in Eastern Europe were Jews. And not just a great number, but a great proportion. The proportion was especially high in the secret police and 'security' departments, where no doubt revenge played its own part, as did the ideological attachment to Communism that was so strong among internationally minded Jews at that period: Jews like David Szmulevski. There were reasonably strong indigenous Communist forces in Czechoslovakia and East Germany, but in Hungary and Poland the Communists were a small minority and knew it, were dependent on the Red Army and aware of the fact, and were disproportionately Jewish and widely detested for that reason. Many of the penal labor camps constructed by the Nazis were later used as holding pens for German deportees by the Communists, and some of those who ran these grim places were Jewish. Nobody from Israel or the diaspora who goes to the East of Europe on a family-history fishing-trip should be unaware of the chance that they will find out both much less and much more than the package-tour had promised them. It's easy to say, with Albert Camus, 'neither victims nor executioners.' But real history is more pitiless even than you had been told it was.
Christopher HitchensStichwörter: history revenge antisemitism communism jews nazis ideology israel poland germans red-army camus czechoslovakia eastern-europe stalin david-szmulevski east-germany hungary jewish-diaspora secret-police
Call no man lucky until he is dead, but there have been moment of rare satisfaction in the often random and fragmented life of the radical freelance scribbler. I have lived to see Ronald Reagan called “a useful idiot for Kremlin propaganda” by his former idolators; to see the General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union regarded with fear and suspicion by the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia (which blacked out an interview with Miloš Forman broadcast live on Moscow TV); to see Mao Zedong relegated like a despot of antiquity. I have also had the extraordinary pleasure of revisiting countries—Greece, Spain, Zimbabwe, and others—that were dictatorships or colonies when first I saw them. Other mini-Reichs have melted like dew, often bringing exiled and imprisoned friends blinking modestly and honorably into the glare. E pur si muove—it still moves, all right.
Christopher HitchensStichwörter: freedom united-states liberation dictatorship television journalism propaganda greece communism spain russia soviet-union despotism colonialism 20th-century postcolonialism cold-war zimbabwe moscow czechoslovakia ronald-reagan mao-zedong milos-forman
[Large countries'] patriotism is different: they are buoyed by their glory, their importance, their universal mission. The Czechs loved their country not because it was glorious but because it was unknown; not because it was big but because it was small and in constant danger. Their patriotism was an enormous compassion for their country.
Milan KunderaStichwörter: patriotism czechoslovakia
I am not worthy of my suffering. A great sentence. It suggests not only that suffering is the basis of the self, its sole indubitable ontological proof, but also that it is the one feeling most worthy of respect; the value of all values.
Milan KunderaStichwörter: metaphysical czechoslovakia romantic-fiction
ქვეყნისათვის სიცოცხლის გაწირვა: ყველა ერმა იცის ამ შესაწირავის ფასი. ჩეხების მტრებმაც, გერმანიამაც და რუსეთმაც, იციან, რა არის ეს, მაგრამ ისინი ხომ დიდი ერები არიან, ამიტომ მათი პატრიოტიზმიც გასხვავებულია: მათ თავბრუ ესხმით თავიანთი დიდებისაგან, თავიანთი მნიშვნელობისაგან, თავიანთი საკაცობრიო მისიისაგან. ჩეხებს ყოველთვის უყვარდათ სამშობლო არა იმიტომ, რომ იგი სახელგანთქმული და დიდებული იყო, არამედ იმიტომ, რომ იგი უცნობი იყო; არა იმიტომ, რომ დიდი იყო, არამედ იმიტომ, რომ პატარა იყო და თანაც მუდმივად საფრთხე ემუქრებოდა. მათი პატრიოტიზმი ქვეყნის მიმართ უზომო თანაგრძნობაა.
Milan KunderaStichwörter: nationalism czechoslovakia patriotizm
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