Havel Quotes

The salvation of this human world lies nowhere else than in the human heart, in the human power to reflect, in human meekness and human responsibility.

Keep the company of those who seek the truth- run from those who have found it

Hope is not a feeling of certainty that everything ends well. Hope is just a feeling that life and work have a meaning.

Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

He wasn’t sure if his parents would be proud that their child had served his country or not.  There had always been something unnatural about parents burying their children.

The truth is not simply what you think it is; it is also the circumstances in which it is said, and to whom, why, and how it is said.

She likes me.  I can tell.  Problem is, she won’t admit that to the boyfriends she brings over.

I feel that the dormant goodwill in people needs to be stirred. People need to hear that it makes sense to behave decently or to help others, to place common interests above their own, to respect the elementary rules of human coexistence.

She is the kind and friendly sort, but I’m an old man at this point, so it would be useless and somewhat illegal if I asked her out.

The television set then came after her, chomping its teeth.  Upon reaching the living room, the television succeeded at eating her body bit-by-bit: first the legs, then the body, and finally her flailing arms.

The tragedy of modern man is not that he knows less and less about the meaning of his own life, but that it bothers him less and less.

At first, she bucked like a wild stag beneath me, and she tried to scream, but the pillow did a good job of muffling her voice.  Before long, the bucking stopped, and my wife’s corpse, blue without oxygen, appeared below me like a hideous phantom.

Truth and love will overcome lies and hatred.

The real test of a man is not when he plays the role that he wants for himself but when he plays the role destiny has for him.

You can't spend your whole life criticizing something and then, when you have the chance to do it better, refuse to go near it.

A few years ago it dawned on me that everybody past a certain age ... pretty much constantly dreams of being able to escape from their lives. They don't want to be who they are any more. They want out. This list includes Thurston Howell the Third, Ann-Margret, the cat members of Rent, Václav Havel, space shuttle astronauts and Snuffleupagus. It's universal.

Hope is the deep orientation of the human soul that can be held at the darkest times.

Anyone who takes himself too seriously always runs the risk of looking ridiculous; anyone who can consistently laugh at himself does not.

Truth cannot be constructed. To live in ideology is, as Havel so eloquently reminds us, inevitably to live in a lie. Truth can only be revealed. We cannot be creators, only receptors.

She tossed him a small mirror so that he could see the results, and what he saw horrified him.  The boiling concoction left a deep trail of burnt skin that stretched from the crown of his head all the way to his chin – almost like an artificial sluice that burned his flesh to form a large rivulet that ran down the center of his face.

There is only one thing I will not concede: that it might be meaningless to strive in a good cause.

Vision is not enough, it must be combined with venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps, we must step up the stairs.

After the front legs emerged, what looked like a quartered and bloodied cut of steak followed.  This piece of steak had rich and dark fur, wet with the mare’s internal membranes that covered the whole body, but it did not have the look of a horse at all.  And yet from the steak’s center came this pulsating heartbeat, as though its pace-setting qualities tried in vain to pull away or escape from its thoroughbred side.

Isn't it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing absurdity.

Just as the constant increase of entropy is the basic law of the universe, so it is the basic law of life to be ever more highly structured and to struggle against entropy.

Even a purely moral act that has no hope of any immediate and visible political effect can gradually and indirectly, over time, gain in political significance.

Man is not an omipotent master of the universe, allowed to do with impunity whatever he thinks, or whatever suits him at the moment. The world we live in is made of an immensely complex and mysterious tissue about which we know very little and which we must treat with utmost humility.

In everyone there is some willingness to merge with the anonymous crowd and to flow comfortably along with it down the river of pseudo-life. This is much more than a simple conflict between two identities. It is something far worse: it is a challenge to the very notion of identity itself.

Once inside my skull, my doctor added some salt, just to taste.  He also poured some fruit into my skull – an apple, a pear, a few seedless grapes, and a ripe banana.  He then used an electric blender set on its highest speed to create what he had termed ‘a yogurt parfait.’  After he finished blending the ingredients, he beckoned the other doctors and a few of the nurses to sample his new concoction.

As soon as man began considering himself the source of the highest meaning in the world and the measure of everything, the world began to lose its human dimension, and man began to lose control of it.

Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

It seemed as though he would never pull free, until he awoke one morning feeling kind of awkward, as though his hands had been lopped off by some Arabian sword during a routine druggie blackout, and in their place, pale and membranous hands that had been fit to his wrists by aliens that took him up while he slept and then brought him back down – all of it in an effort to help him move up to where he belonged in society.

In any case, ideals are something we strive for; they are somewhere on the horizon of our efforts; they provide meaning and direction; they are not, however, static quotas that we either fulfill or do not.

It is not enough to stare up the steps, we must step up the stairs.” —Vaclav Havel

Ideology is a specious way of relating to the world. It offers human beings the illusion of an identity, of dignity, and of morality while making it easier for them to part with them.

All human suffering concerns each human being

The only thing I can recommend at this stage is a sense of humor, an ability to see things in their ridiculous and absurd dimensions, to laugh at others and at ourselves, a sense of irony regarding everything that calls out for parody in this world. In other words, I can only recommend perspective and distance.

The orderly brandished a hunting knife from a sheath at his waist and sliced open the prisoner’s throat with it.  Warm blood cascaded out of the prisoner’s throat, some of it spraying the captain’s uniform.  The orderly waited for the prisoner to bleed to death before cutting the head clean off.  Within a few minutes, the muscle that the prisoner built on his body was carved out and thrown on the grill.  After the meat cooled, the orderly put the human steaks in front of the captain for dinner.  As the captain ate each buttery piece, he couldn’t help but compliment the orderly for a job well-done.

The worst thing is that we live in a contaminated moral environment. We feel morally ill because we became used to saying something different from what we thought. Concepts such as love, friendship, compassion, humility or forgiveness lost their depth and dimension.

If the main pillar of the system is living a lie, then it is not surprising that the fundamental threat to it is living the truth. This is why it must be suppressed more severely than anything else.

Work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.

There's always something suspect about an intellectual on the winning side.

You do not become a ''dissident'' just because you decide one day to take up this most unusual career. You are thrown into it by your personal sense of responsibility, combined with a complex set of external circumstances. You are cast out of the existing structures and placed in a position of conflict with them. It begins as an attempt to do your work well, and ends with being branded an enemy of society.

The dissident does not operate in the realm of genuine power at all. He is not seeking power. He has no desire for office and does not gather votes. He does not attempt to charm the public, he offers nothing and promises nothing. His actions simply articulate his dignity as a citizen, regardless of the cost.

She put all of her weight against the sill of the balcony, her lovesick heart ready and willing to join the man she loved.  She closed her eyes and pushed herself forward.  From three stories high, she plummeted to the earth.  Before hitting the ground, she swore she saw him, racing down from the heavens and lifting her up towards God’s domain where lovers never ceased to rule.

True enough, the country is calm. Calm as a morgue or a grave, would you not say?

The kind of hope that I often think about…I understand above all as a state of mind, not a state of the world. Either we have hope within us, or we don’t. It is a dimension of the soul It’s not essentially dependent upon some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation. Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Truth must be integrated with love; morality is not whole without it. Love is the greatest strength of the powerless. Unity founded on love will never be coercion; power guided by love will never be violence. Love is all-powerful and will even overcome hatred. And only love can do this!

There are times when we must sink to the bottom of our misery to understand truth, just as we must descend to the bottom of a well to see the stars in broad daylight.

If the main pillar of the system is living a lie,” wrote Havel, “then it is not surprising that the fundamental threat to it is living in truth.

This is the moment when something once more begins visibly to happen, something truly new and unique...something truly historical, in the sense that history again demands to be heard.

Consciousness precedes Being, and not the other way around, as Marxists claim. For this reason, the salvation of this human world lies nowhere else than in the human heart, in the human power to reflect, in human modesty, and in human responsibility. Without a global revolution in the sphere of human consciousness, nothing will change for the better.

Harapan, kata Vaclav Havel, "bukanlah keyakinan bahwa hal-ikhwal akan berjalan baik, melainkan rasa pasti bahwa ada sesuatu yang bukan hanya omong kosong dalam semua ini, apa pun yang akan terjadi akhirnya".

Lying can never save us from another lie.

The deeper the experience of an absence of meaning - in other words, of absurdity - the more energetically meaning is sought.

We still don't know how to put morality ahead of politics, science, and economics. We are still incapable of understanding that the only genuine backbone of our actions-if they are to be moral-is responsibility. Responsibility to something higher than my family, my country, my firm, my success.

As the interpretation of reality by the power structure, ideology is always subordinated ultimately to the interests of the structure. Therefore, it has a natural tendency to disengage itself from reality, to create a world of appearances, to become ritual... Increasingly, the virtuosity of the ritual becomes more important than the reality hidden behind it.

I have said it so often: if the West does not stabilize the East, the East will destabilize the West.

Our concern is whether we can live with dignity in such a system, whether it serves people rather than people serving it.

... no one ever develops and achieves self-awareness in a vacuum, beyond all ears and systems. The period you grow up in and mature in always influences your thinking. This in itself requires no self-criticism. What is more important is how you have allowed yourself to be influenced, whether by good or by evil.

The point I am trying to make is that words are a mysterious, ambiguous, ambivalent, and perfidious phenomenon. They can be rays of light in a realm of darkness. . . . They can equally be lethal arrows. Worst of all, at times they can be one or the other. They can even be both at once!

What else but a profound feeling of being excluded can enable a person better to see the absurdity of the world and his own existence, or, to put it more soberly, the absurd dimensions of the world and his own existence?

To some, the precariousness of the current moment seems frightening, and yet this uncertainty has always been there. The liberalism of John Stuart Mill, Thomas Jefferson, or Václav Havel never promised anything permanent. The checks and balances of Western constitutional democracies never guaranteed stability. Liberal democracies always demanded things from citizens: participation, argument, effort, struggle. They always required some tolerance for cacophony and chaos, as well as some willingness to push back at the people who create cacophony and chaos.

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.

The tragic element in modern man, not ignore the meaning of his life, but it bothers him less and less.

Havel had said that people struggling for independence wanted money and recognition from other countries; they wanted more criticism of the Soviet empire from the West and more diplomatic pressure. But Havel had said that these were things they wanted; the only thing they needed was hope. Not that pie in the sky stuff, not a preference for optimism over pessimism, but rather 'an orientation of the spirit.' The kind of hope that creates a willingness to position oneself in a hopeless place and be a witness, that allows one to believe in a better future, even in the face of abusive power. That kind of hope makes one strong.

Hope does not consist of expecting things to turn out well, it consists of hoping that it will make sense

At one time, the state of culture in Czechoslovakia was described, rather poignantly, as a 'Biafra of the spirit'. . . I simply do not believe that we have all lain down and died. I see far more than graves and tombstones around me. I see evidence of this in . . . expensive books on astronomy printed in a hundred thousand copies (they would hardly find that many readers in the USA) . . .

Without a global revolution in the sphere of human consciousness, nothing will change for the better in the sphere of our being as humans, and the catastrophe toward which this world is headed — be it ecological, social, demographic or a general breakdown of civilization — will be unavoidable. If we are no longer threatened by world war or by the danger that the absurd mountains of accumulated nuclear weapons might blow up the world, this does not mean that we have definitely won. We are still incapable of understanding that the only genuine backbone of all our actions, if they are to be moral, is responsibility.

L'élément tragique pour l'homme moderne, ce n'est pas qu'il ignore le sens de sa vie, mais que ça le dérange de moins en moins.

For by this very fact, individuals confirm the system, fulfill the system, make the system, are the system.

Naděje prostě není optimismus. Není to přesvědčení, že něco dobře dopadne, ale jistota, že má něco smysl – bez ohledu na to, jak to dopadne.

Our indifference towards others can after all result in only one thing: the indifference of others towards us. Vaclav Havel, quoted in Havel: A Life

I really do inhabit a system in which words are capable of shaking the entire structure of government, where words can prove mightier than ten military divisions.

I'd grown fond of quoting Václav Havel, the great Czech leader who had said that "hope" was the one thing that people struggling in Eastern Europe needed during the era of Soviet domination. Havel had said that people struggling for independence wanted money and recognition from other countries; they wanted more criticism of the Soviet empire from the West and more diplomatic pressure. But Havel had said that these were things they wanted; the only thing they needed was hope. Not that pie in the sky stuff, not a preference for optimism over pessimism, but rather "an orientation of the spirit." The kind of hope that creates a willingness to position oneself in a hopeless place and be a witness, that allows one to believe in a better future, even in the face of abusive power. That kind of hope makes one strong.

None of us knows all the potentialities that slumber in the spirit of the population, or all the ways in which that population can surprise us when there is the right interplay of events.

The post-totalitarian system touches people at every step, but it does so with its ideological gloves on. This is why life in the system is so thoroughly permeated with hypocrisy and lies: government by bureaucracy is called popular government; the working class is enslaved in the name of the working class; the complete degradation of the individual is presented as his or her ultimate liberation; depriving people of information is called making it available; the use of power to manipulate is called the public control of power, and the arbitrary abuse of power is called observing the legal code; the repression of culture is called its development; the expansion of imperial influence is presented as support for the oppressed; the lack of free expression becomes the highest form of freedom; farcical elections become the highest form of democracy; banning independent thought becomes the most scientific of world views; military occupation becomes fraternal assistance. Because the regime is captive to its own lies, it must falsify everything. It falsifies the past. It falsifies the present, and it falsifies the future. It falsifies statistics. It pretends not to possess an omnipotent and unprincipled police apparatus. It pretends to respect human rights. It pretends to persecute no one. It pretends to fear nothing. It pretends to pretend nothing.

Hope is not the conviction that something will turn out well,” Václav Havel, the Czech dissident, writer, and statesman, said, “but the certainty that it is worth doing no matter how it turns out.

Imagine if, in the Cold War, the West had lent its support not to the dissidents in Eastern Europe—to the likes of Václav Havel and Lech Wałęsa—but to the Soviet Union, as the representative of “moderate Communists,” in the hope that the Kremlin would give us a hand against terrorists such as the Red Army Faction.

What fascinates me—and what serves as a central theme of this book—is why we make the choices we do. What separates us from the world we have and the kind of ethical universe envisioned by someone like Havel? What prompts one person to act boldly in a moment of crisis and a second to seek shelter in the crowd? Why do some people become stronger in the face of adversity while others quickly lose heart? What separates the bully from the protector? Is it education, spiritual belief, our parents, our friends, the circumstances of our birth, traumatic events, or more likely some combination that spells the difference? More succinctly, do our hopes for the future hinge on a desirable unfolding of external events or some mysterious process within?

Black soil flew up in divots; the horses’ heads pounded up and down like pistons, and he felt a sensation of rushing speed no machine could quite match as the great muscles flexed and bunched between his legs. Havel

In an era when metaphysical and existential certainties are in a state of crisis, when people are being uprooted and alienated and are losing their sense of what this world means, this ideology inevitably has a certain hypnotic charm. To wandering humankind it offers an immediately available home: all one has to do is accept it, and suddenly everything becomes clear once more, life takes on new meaning, and all mysteries, unanswered questions, anxiety, and loneliness vanish. Of course, one pays dearly for this low-rent home: the price is abdication of one’ s own reason, conscience, and responsibility, for an essential aspect of this ideology is the consignment of reason and conscience to a higher authority. The principle involved here is that the center of power is identical with the center of truth.

It is not enough to stare up the steps; we must step up the stairs.

In order to make an impact on the political process, you need quantity. You need moronic, chanting hordes. There is no way around this. Communism was not overthrown by Andrei Sakharov, Joseph Brodsky and Václav Havel. It was overthrown by moronic, chanting hordes. I suppose I shouldn’t be rude about it, but it’s a fact that there is no such thing as a crowd of philosophers.

In other words, if there is to be any chance at all of success, there is only one way to strive for decency, reason, responsibility, sincerity, civility, and tolerance, and that is decently, reasonably, responsibly, sincerely, civilly, and tolerantly.

Once cynicism triumphs…everyone who still tries to resist by, for instance, refusing to adopt the principle of dissimulation as the key to survival, doubting the value of any self-fulfillment purchased at the cost of self-alienation—such a person appears to his ever more indifferent neighbors as an eccentric, a fool, a Don Quixote, and in the end is regarded inevitably with some aversion, like everyone who behaves differently from the rest and in a way which, moreover, threatens to hold up a critical mirror before their eyes.

Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good.

I developed a maturing recognition of the importance of hopefulness in creating justice. I'd started addressing the subject of hopefulness in talks to small groups. I'd grown fond of quoting Vaclav Havel, the great Czech leader who had said that 'hope' was the one thing people struggling in Eastern Europe needed during the era of Soviet domination. The kind of hope that creates a willingness to position oneself in a hopeless place and be a witness, that allows one to believe in a better future, even in the face of abusive power. That kind of hope makes one strong.

In the Cold War, the West celebrated dissidents such as Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Andrei Sakharov, and Vaclav Havel, who had the courage to challenge the Soviet system from within. Today, there are many dissidents who challenge Islam – former Muslims, and reformers – but the West either ignores them or dismisses them as “not representative.” This is a grave mistake. Reformers must be supported and protected. They should be as well known as Solzhenitsyn, Sakharov, and Havel were in the 1980s – and as well known as Locke and Voltaire were their day, when the West needed freethinkers of its own.

Think of this: Hundreds of people today are doing things that not a single one of the them would have dared to do at the beginning of the Seventies. We are now living in a truly new and different situation. This is not because the government has become more tolerant; it simply had to get used to the new situation. It has had to yield to continuing pressure from below, which means pressure from all those apparently suicidal or exhibitionistic civic acts.

And anyway, no one ever develops and achieves self-awareness in a vacuum, beyond all eras and systems. The period you grow up in and mature in always influence your thinking. This in itself requires no self-criticism. What is more important is how you have allowed yourself to be influenced, whether by good or evil.

Ideology offers human beings the illusion of dignity and morals while making it easier to part with them.

We must try harder to understand than to explain.

If the main pillar of the system is living a lie,” wrote Havel, “then it is not surprising that the fundamental threat to it is living in truth.” Since

Truth lies not only in what is said, but also in who says it, to whom, why, how and under what circumstances.

Hope is not a conviction that something will turn out well, but a certainty that something has a meaning regardless of how it turns out. – Václav Havel

True enough, order prevails.... What prevails is order without life. True enough, the country is calm. Calm as a morgue or a grave, would you not say?

We know from a number of harsh experiences that neíther reform nor change is in itself a guarantee of anything. We know that ultimately it is all the same to us whether or not the system in which we live, in the light of a particular doctrine, appears changed or reformed. Our concern is whether we can live with dignity in such a system, whether it serves people rather than people serving it.

Havel puts it well—humanity cannot save itself. In fact, he argues, the belief that we can save ourselves—that some political system or ideology can fix human problems—has only led to more darkness.

When Americans think of freedom, we usually imagine a contest between a lone individual and a powerful government. We tend to conclude that the individual should be empowered and the government kept at bay. This is all well and good. But one element of freedom is the choice of associates, and one defense of freedom is the activity of groups to sustain their members. This is why we should engage in activities that are of interest to us, our friends, our families. These need not be expressly political: Václav Havel, the Czech dissident thinker, gave the example of brewing good beer. Insofar as we take pride in these activities, and come to know others who do so as well, we are creating civil society. Sharing in an undertaking teaches us that we can trust people beyond a narrow circle of friends and families, and helps us to recognize authorities from whom we can learn. The capacity for trust and learning can make life seem less chaotic and mysterious, and democratic politics more plausible and attractive.

(All the dorms were named after dissidents, freedom fighters, revolutionaries.) “The Vaclav Havel is between the John Brown and the Cesar Chavez. If you get to Michael Collins,” Rowena said, “you’ve gone too far.

I feel that the dormant goodwill in people needs to be stirred. People need to hear that it makes sense to behave decently or to help others, to place common interests above their own, to respect the elementary rules of human coexistence. They want to be told this publicly. They want to know that those ‘at the top’ are on their side. They feel recognized and cultivated. For it to develop and have an impact it must hear that the world does not ridicule it.

….what else are parallel structures than an area where a different life can be lived, a life that is in harmony with its own aims and which in turn structures itself in harmony with those aims? . . .What else are those initial attempts at social self-organization than the efforts of a certain part of society…to rid itself of the self-sustaining aspects of totalitarianism and, thus, to extricate itself radically from its involvement in the…totalitarian system?

I must emphasize and explain repeatedly the moral dimensions of all social life, and point out that morality is, in fact, hidden in everything. And this is true; whenever I encounter a problem in my work and try to get to the bottom of it, I always discover some moral aspect, be it apathy, unwillingness to recognize personal error or guilt, reluctance to give up certain positions and the advantages flowing from them, envy, an excess of self-assurance, or whatever.

If every day a man takes orders in silence from an incompetent superior, if every day he solemnly performs ritual acts which he privately finds ridiculous, if he unhesitatingly gives answers to questionnaires which are contrary to his real opinions and is prepared to deny his own self in public, if he sees no difficulty in feigning sympathy or even affection where, in fact, he feels only indifference or aversion, it still does not mean that he has entirely lost the use of one of the basic human senses, namely, the sense of humiliation.

The real question is whether the brighter future is really always so distant. What if, on the contrary, it has been here for a long time already, and only our own blindness and weakness has prevented us from seeing it around us and within us, and kept us from developing it?

It is largely up to the politicians which social forces they choose to liberate and which they choose to suppress, whether they rely on the good in each citizen or the bad. The former regime systematically mobilized the worst human qualities, like selfishness, envy, and hatred.

If the main pillar of the system is living a lie,” wrote Havel, “then it is not surprising that the fundamental threat to it is living in truth.” Since in the age of the internet we are all publishers, each of us bears some private responsibility for the public’s sense of truth.

Communism went against life, against man’s fundamental needs, against the need for freedom, the need to be enterprising, to associate freely against the will of the nation,” Václav Havel noted. “Something that goes against life may last a long time, but sooner or later it will collapse.

When civil society languishes, when the life of organizations and voluntary associations is curtailed, then sooner or later political parties will begin to languish as well, until, ultimately, they become degenerate ghettos whose only purpose is to elevate their members into positions of power.

Across the Atlantic, Havel added, “Europe is attempting to create a historically new kind of order through the process of unification . . . a Europe in which no one more powerful will be able to suppress anyone less powerful, in which it will no longer be possible to settle disputes with force.

Serán necesarios largos años", escribe Václav Havel, "antes de que los valores que se apoyan en la verdad y la autenticidad morales se impongan y se lleven por delante al cinismo político; pero, al final, siempre acaban venciendo." Ésta debe ser también la paciente apuesta del verdadero periodismo.

(By the way, the representatives of power invariably come to terms with those who live within the truth by persistently ascribing utilitarian motivations to them – a lust for power or fame or wealth – and thus they try, at least, to implicate them in their own world, the world of general demoralization.)

You do not become a ‘dissident’ just because you decide one day to take up this most unusual career. You are thrown into it by your personal sense of responsibility, combined with a complex set of external circumstances….It begins as an attempt to do your work well, and ends with being branded an enemy of society.

For one thing, my father doesn’t approve of Leo because he is so very Russian. Dad would rather I be infatuated with a nice Czech author like Václav Havel or Milan Kundera, who are perfectly decent boys and all, but have you tried reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being? More like The Unbearable Pretension of Pretentiousness, am I right?

But one element of freedom is the choice of associates, and one defense of freedom is the activity of groups to sustain their members. This is why we should engage in activities that are of interest to us, our friends, our families. These need not be expressly political: Václav Havel, the Czech dissident thinker, gave the example of brewing good beer.

I am afraid and therefore unquestioningly obedient.

I am not interested in why man commits evil; I want to know why he does good.

Sometimes I wonder if suicides aren't in fact sad guardians of the meaning of life.

when confession and sacrifice are done, it is as if the wrongdoing never occurred.

We're living in a strange, complex epoch. As Hamlet says, our 'time is out of joint.' Just think. We're reaching for the moon and yet it's increasingly hard for us to reach ourselves; we're able to split the atom, but unable to prevent the splitting of our personality; we build superb communications between the continents, and yet communication between Man and Man is increasingly difficult. In other words, our life has lost a sort of higher axis, and we are irresistibly falling apart, more and more profoundly alienated from the world, from others, from ourselves. Like Sisyphus, we roll the boulder of our life up the hill of its illusory meaning, only for it to roll down again into the valley of its own absurdity. Never before has Man lived projected so near to the very brink of the insoluble conflict between the subjective will of his moral self and the objective possibility of its ethical realization. Manipulated, automatized, made into a fetish, Man loses the experience of his own totality; horrified, he stares as a stranger at himself, unable not to be what he is not, nor to be what he is.

It would appear that the traditional parliamentary democracies can offer no fundamental opposition to the automatism of technological civilization and the industrial consumer society, for they, too, are being dragged helplessly along by it. People are manipulated in ways that are infinitely more subtle and refined than the brutal methods used in the post-totalitarian societies.

So-obviously-I am not against political parties; if I were, I would be against democracy itself. I am simply against the dictatorship of partisanship. To be more precise, I am against the excessive influence of parties in the system of political power. Where the political system-and thus the state itself-is too dominated by parties, or too dependent on them, the consequences are unfortunate.

The Communist state knew, better than the Czech-Californian philosopher, where the greatest danger to it lay; in the realm of the intellect and the spirit. That the state was less and less successful at doing so is another matter, which merely confirms how right it was to be afraid; for, despite all the bribes and prizes and titles thrown their way, the artists were among the first to rebel.

Thus the sign helps the greengrocer to conceal from himself the low foundations of his obedience, at the same time concealing the low foundations of power. It hides them behind the facade of something high. And that something is ideology. Ideology is a specious way of relating to the world. It offers human beings the illusion of an identity, of dignity, and of morality while making it easier for them to part with them.

In order to make an impact on the political process, you need quantity. You need moronic, chanting hordes. There is no way around this. Communism was not overthrown by Andrei Sakharov, Joseph Brodsky and Václav Havel. It was overthrown by moronic, chanting hordes. I suppose I shouldn’t be rude about it, but it’s a fact that there is no such thing as a crowd of philosophers. Yet Communism was overthrown by Sakharov, Brodsky and Havel. The philosophers did matter. What was needed was the combination of philosopher and crowd—a rare and volatile mixture, highly potent and highly unnatural. My view is that up until the very last stage of the reset, quality is everything and quantity is, if anything, undesirable. On the Internet, ideas spread like crazy. And they are much more likely to spread from the smart to the dumb than the other way around.

All my adult life, I was branded by officials as ‘an exponent of the right’ who wanted to bring capitalism back to our country. Today-at a ripe old age-I am suspected by some of being left-wing, if not harbouring out-and-out socialist tendencies. What, then is my real position? …I refuse to classify myself as left or right. I stand between these two political and ideological front-lines, independent of them. Some of my opinions may seem left-wing, no doubt, and some right-wing, and I can even imagine that a single opinion may seem left-wing to some and right-wing to others-and to tell you the truth, I couldn’t care less. But most of all I am loath to describe myself as a man of the centre. It seems absurd to define oneself in topographical terms, the more so because the position of the imaginary centre is entirely dependent on the angle from which it is viewed.

Let us take note: if the greengrocer had been instructed to display the slogan "I am afraid and therefore unquestioningly obedient;' he would not be nearly as indifferent to its semantics, even though the statement would reflect the truth. The greengrocer would be embarrassed and ashamed to put such an unequivocal statement of his own degradation in the shop window, and quite naturally so, for he is a human being and thus has a sense of his own dignity. To overcome this complication, his expression of loyalty must take the form of a sign which, at least on its textual surface, indicates a level of disinterested conviction. It must allow the greengrocer to say, "What's wrong with the workers of the world uniting?" Thus the sign helps the greengrocer to conceal from himself the low foundations of his obedience, at the same time concealing the low foundations of power. It hides them behind the facade of something high. And that something is ideology.

It is of great importance that the main thing - the everyday, thankless and neverending struggle of human beings to live more freely, truthfully and in quiet dignity - never imposes any limits on itself, never be half-hearted, inconsistent, never trap itself in political tactics, speculating on the outcome of its actions or entertaining fantasies about the future. The purity of this struggle is the best guarantee of optimum results when it comes to actual interaction with the post-totalitarian structures.

The Language of the Third Reich by Victor Klemperer (1947); The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt (1951); The Rebel by Albert Camus (1951); The Captive Mind by Czesław Miłosz (1953); “The Power of the Powerless” by Václav Havel (1978); “How to Be a Conservative-Liberal-Socialist” by Leszek Kołakowski (1978); The Uses of Adversity by Timothy Garton Ash (1989); The Burden of Responsibility by Tony Judt (1998); Ordinary Men by Christopher Browning (1992); and Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible by Peter Pomerantsev (2014).

Again, I call to mind that distant moment in [the prison at] Hermanice when on a hot, cloudless summer day, I sat on a pile of rusty iron and gazed into the crown of an enormous tree that stretched, with dignified repose, up and over all the fences, wires, bars and watchtowers that separated me from it. As I watched the imperceptible trembling of its leaves against an endless sky, I was overcome by a sensation that is difficult to describe: all at once, I seemed to rise above all the coordinates of my momentary existence in the world into a kind of state outside time in which all the beautiful things I had ever seen and experienced existed in a total “co-present”; I felt a sense of reconciliation, indeed of an almost gentle consent to the inevitable course of things as revealed to me now, and this combined with a carefree determination to face what had to be faced. A profound amazement at the sovereignty of Being became a dizzying sensation of tumbling endlessly into the abyss of its mystery; an unbounded joy at being alive, at having been given the chance to live through all I have lived through, and at the fact that everything has a deep and obvious meaning— this joy formed a strange alliance in me with a vague horror at the inapprehensibility and unattainability of everything I was so close to in that moment, standing at the very “edge of the finite”; I was flooded with a sense of ultimate happiness and harmony with the world and with myself, with that moment, with all the moments I could call up, and with everything invisible that lies behind it and has meaning. I would even say that I was somehow “struck by love,” though I don’t know precisely for whom or what.

Why was Solzhenitsyn driven out of his own country? Certainly not because he represented a unit of real power, that is, not because any of the regime's representatives felt he might unseat them and take their place in government. Solzhenitsyn's expulsion was something else: a desperate attempt to plug up the dreadful wellspring of truth, a truth which might cause incalculable transformations in social consciousness, which in turn might one day produce political debacles unpredictable in their consequences. And so the post-totalitarian system behaved in a characteristic way: it defended the integrity of the world of appearances in order to defend itself. For the crust presented by the life of lies is made of strange stuff. As long as it seals off hermetically the entire society, it appears to be made of stone. But the moment someone breaks through in one place, when one person cries out, "The emperor is naked!"—when a single person breaks the rules of the game, thus exposing it as a game—everything suddenly appears in another light and the whole crust seems then to be made of a tissue on the point of tearing and disintegrating uncontrollably.

But Havel had said that these were things they wanted; the only thing they needed was hope. Not that pie in the sky stuff, not a preference for optimism over pessimism, but rather “an orientation of the spirit.” The kind of hope that creates a willingness to position oneself in a hopeless place and be a witness, that allows one to believe in a better future, even in the face of abusive power. That kind of hope makes one strong. Havel prescribed exactly what our work seemed to require. Walter’s case had needed it more than most. So I didn’t discourage Minnie. Together, we hoped.

Excessive emphasis on political parties can have many unfortunate consequences….Power-hungry people, under certain circumstances, can use their party membership, their servility to party leaders, their clever concealment behind the party flag, to gain a position and influence that is out of all proportion to their qualities….Politicians seem to be devoting more time to party politics than to their jobs. Not a single law is passed without a debate about how a particular stand might serve a party’s popularity. Ideas, no matter how absurd, are touted purely to gain favour with the electorate.

The post-totalitarian system touches people at every step, but it does so with its ideological gloves on. This is why life in the system is so thoroughly permeated with hypocrisy and lies: government by bureaucracy is called popular government; the working class is enslaved in the name of the working class; the complete degradation of the individual is presented as his or her ultimate liberation; depriving people of information is called making it available; the use of power to manipulate is called the public control of power, and the arbitrary abuse of power is called observing the legal code; the repression of culture is called its development; the expansion of imperial influence is presented as support for the oppressed; the lack of free expression becomes the highest form of freedom; farcical elections become the highest form of democracy; banning independent thought becomes the most scientific of world views; military occupation becomes fraternal assistance. Because the regime is captive to its own lies, it must falsify everything. It falsifies the past. It falsifies the present, and it falsifies the future. It falsifies statistics. It pretends not to possess an omnipotent and unprincipled police apparatus. It pretends to respect human rights. It pretends to persecute no one. It pretends to fear nothing. It pretends to pretend nothing. Individuals need not believe all these mystifications, but they must behave as though they did, or they must at least tolerate them in silence, or get along well with those who work with them. For this reason, however, they must live within a lie. They need not accept the lie. It is enough for them to have accepted their life with it and in it. For by this very fact, individuals confirm the system, fulfil the system, make the system, are the system.

Every meaningful cultural act -- wherever it takes place -- is unquestionably good in and of itself, simply because it exists and because it offers something to someone. Yet can this value 'in itself' really be separated from 'the common good'? Is not one an integral part of the other from the start? Does not the bare fact that a work of art has meant something to someone -- even if only for a moment, perhaps to a single person -- already somehow change, however minutely, the overall condition for the better? ... Can we separate the awakening human soul from what it always, already is -- an awakening human community?

I realize with fright that my impatience for the re-establishment of democracy had something almost communist in it; or, more generally, something rationalist. I had wanted to make history move ahead in the same way that a child pulls on a plant to make it grow more quickly. I believe we must learn to wait as we learn to create. We have to patiently sow the seeds, assiduously water the earth where they are sown and give the plants the time that is their own. One cannot fool a plant any more than one can fool history. —Václav Havel,7 playwright, last President of Czechoslovakia and first president of the Czech Republic

But sometimes-especially in the hands of people with a tendency towards dogmatic, ideological thinking-this sentiment becomes a kind of hickory stick to crack across the knuckle of anyone who does not want, for whatever reason, to copy faithfully all the models presented-which today, of course, are western models. If that is what it means, then I can’t agree. Without being, as I have said, a seeker after some ‘third way’, I am opposed to blind imitation, especially if it becomes an ideology….We will never turn Czechoslovakia into a Federal Republic of Germany, or a France, or a Sweden, or a United States of America, and I don’t see the slightest reason why we should try.

Some of the political and historical texts that inform the arguments made here are “Politics and the English Language” by George Orwell (1946); The Language of the Third Reich by Victor Klemperer (1947); The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt (1951); The Rebel by Albert Camus (1951); The Captive Mind by Czesław Miłosz (1953); “The Power of the Powerless” by Václav Havel (1978); “How to Be a Conservative-Liberal-Socialist” by Leszek Kołakowski (1978); The Uses of Adversity by Timothy Garton Ash (1989); The Burden of Responsibility by Tony Judt (1998); Ordinary Men by Christopher Browning (1992); and Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible by Peter Pomerantsev (2014).

Some of the political and historical texts that inform the arguments made here are “Politics and the English Language” by George Orwell (1946); The Language of the Third Reich by Victor Klemperer (1947); The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt (1951); The Rebel by Albert Camus (1951); The Captive Mind by Czesław Miłosz (1953); “The Power of the Powerless” by Václav Havel (1978); “How to Be a Conservative-Liberal-Socialist” by Leszek Kołakowski (1978); The Uses of Adversity by Timothy Garton Ash (1989); The Burden of Responsibility by Tony Judt (1998); Ordinary Men by Christopher Browning (1992); and Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible by Peter Pomerantsev (2014). Christians

Truth itself is a common good. Through history, one of the first things tyrants have done is attack independent truth-tellers—philosophers (Plato), scientists (Galileo), and the free and independent press—thereby confusing the public and substituting their own “facts.” Without a shared truth, democratic deliberation is hobbled. “Alternative facts” are an open invitation to what George Orwell described as “doublethink,” in which the public is so confused it cannot recall the past, assess the present, or contemplate the future. As poet and philosopher Václav Havel put it, “If the main pillar of the system is living a lie, then it is not surprising that the fundamental threat to it is living in truth.

I do not see, however, why a democratic state, armed with a legislature and the power to draw up a budget, cannot strive for a certain fairness in, for example, pension policies or tax policies, or support to the unemployed, or salaries to public employees, or assistance to the elderly living alone, people who have health problems, or those who, for various reasons, find themselves at the bottom of society. Every civilized state attempts, in different ways and with different degrees of success, to come up with reasonable policies in these areas, and not even the most ardent supporters of the market economy have anything against it in principle. In the end, then, it is a conflict not of beliefs, but rather of terminology.

Sooner or later, however, a writer (or at least a writer of my type) finds himself at a crossroads: he has exhausted his initial experience of the world and the ways of expressing it and he must decide how to proceed from there. He can, of course, seek ever more brilliant ways of saying the things he has already said; that is, he can essentially repeat himself. Or he can rest in the position he achieved in his first burst of creativity, subordinate everything he learned to the interests of consolidating that position, and thus assure himself a place on Parnassus. But he has a third option: he can abandon everything proven, step beyond his initial experience of the world, with which he is by now all too familiar, liberate himself from what binds him to his own tradition, to public expectation and to his own established position, and try for a new and more mature self-definition, one that corresponds to his present and authentic experience of the world. In short, he can find his "second wind." Anyone who chooses this route—the only one (if one wishes to go on writing) that genuinely makes sense—will not, as a rule, have an easy time of it. At this stage in his life, a writer is no longer a blank sheet of paper, and some things are hard to part with. His original elan, self-confidence, and spontaneous openness have gone, but genuine maturity is not yet in sight; he must, in fact, start over again, but in essentially more difficult conditions.

The totalitarian systems warn of something far more serious than Western rationalism is willing to admit. They are, most of all, a convex mirror of the inevitable consequences of rationalism, a grotesquely magnified image of its own deep tendencies, an extreme offshoot of its own development, and an ominous product of its own expansion. They are a deeply informative reflection of its own crisis. Totalitarian regimes are not merely dangerous neighbors and even less some kind of an avant-garde of world progress. Alas, just the opposite: they are the avant-garde of a global crisis of this civilization, first European, then Euro-American, and ultimately global. They are one of the possible futurological studies of the Western world.

When Czechoslovak communists won elections in 1946 and then proceeded to claim full power after a coup in 1948, many Czechoslovak citizens were euphoric. When the dissident thinker Václav Havel wrote “The Power of the Powerless” three decades later, in 1978, he was explaining the continuity of an oppressive regime in whose goals and ideology few people still believed. He offered a parable of a greengrocer who places a sign reading “Workers of the world, unite!” in his shop window. It is not that the man actually endorses the content of this quotation from The Communist Manifesto. He places the sign in his window so that he can withdraw into daily life without trouble from the authorities. When everyone else follows the same logic, the public sphere is covered with signs of loyalty, and resistance

The particular importance of the Ukrainian Orange Revolution is not, however, that it took place in such a large and important country in the former Soviet empire or that it inspired many countries still burdened with postcommunism, but in something perhaps even more significant: that revolution gave a clear answer to a still open question: where does one of the major spheres of civilization in the world today (the so-called West) end, and where does the other sphere (the so-called East, or rather Euro-Asia) begin? I recall — and I mentioned this during my meeting with Yuschenko — that an important American politician once asked me where Ukraine belongs. My impression is that it belongs to what we call the West. But that’s not what I said; I said that this was a matter for Ukraine to decide for itself.

By the way, even the politicians who often anger me with their short-sightedness and their malice are not, for the most part, evil-minded. They are, rather, inexperienced, easily infected with the particularisms of the time, easily manipulated by suggestive trends and prevailing customs; often they are simply caught up, unwillingly, in the swirl of bad politics, and find themselves unable to extricate themselves because they are afraid of the risks this would entail.

And yet it seems to me that the thought and activity of those friends who have never given up direct political work and who are always ready to assume direct political responsibility very often suffer from one chronic fault: an insufficient understanding of the historical uniqueness of the posttotalitarian system as a social and political reality. They have little understanding of the specific nature of power that is typical for this system and therefore they overestimate the importance of direct political work in the traditional sense. Moreover, they fail to appreciate the political significance of those "pre-political" events and processes that provide the living humus from which genuine political change usually springs. As political actors-or, rather, as people with political ambitions-they frequently try to pick up where natural political life left off. They maintain models of behavior that may have been appropriate in more normal political circumstances and thus, without really being aware of it, they bring an outmoded way of thinking, old habits, conceptions, categories, and notions to bear on circumstances that are quite new and radically different, without first giving adequate thought to the meaning and substance of such things in the new circumstances, to what politics as such means now, to what sort of thing can have political impact and potential, and in what way- Because such people have been excluded from the structures of power and are no longer able to influence those structures directly (and because they remain faithful to traditional notions of politics established in more or less democratic societies or in classical dictatorships) they frequently, in a sense, lose touch with reality. Why make compromises with reality, they say, when none of our proposals will ever be accepted anyway? Thus they find themselves in a world of genuinely utopian thinking.

Political parties and tendencies always have differed, and always will differ, chiefly in the relative importance they give to economic and social phenomena, in how they approach them and how to explain them, and in their opinions on the best way to organize economic life. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that. But that is as far as it goes. Right-wing dogmatism, with its sour-faced intolerance and fanatical faith in general precepts, bothers me as much as left-wing prejudices, illusions, and utopias….By the way, it is a great mistake to think that the marketplace and morality are mutually exclusive. Precisely the opposite is true; the marketplace can work only if it has its own morality-a morality generally enshrined in laws, regulations, traditions, experiences, customs-in the rules of the game, to put it simply. No game can be played without rules. (It is no coincidence that many ancient religious books come with a moral codex and something like a set of regulations for commerce.)

The late history of communism, when no one believed in the revolution anymore, offers a final lesson about symbols. Even when citizens are demoralized and wish only to be left alone, public markers can still sustain a tyrannical regime. When Czechoslovak communists won elections in 1946 and then proceeded to claim full power after a coup in 1948, many Czechoslovak citizens were euphoric. When the dissident thinker Václav Havel wrote “The Power of the Powerless” three decades later, in 1978, he was explaining the continuity of an oppressive regime in whose goals and ideology few people still believed. He offered a parable of a greengrocer who places a sign reading “Workers of the world, unite!” in his shop window. It is not that the man actually endorses the content of this quotation from The Communist Manifesto. He places the sign in his window so that he can withdraw into daily life without trouble from the authorities. When everyone else follows the same logic, the public sphere is covered with signs of loyalty, and resistance becomes unthinkable.

Patočka used to say that the most interesting thing about responsibility is that we carry it with us everywhere. That means that responsibility is ours, that we must accept it and grasp it here, now, in this place in time and space where the Lord has set us down, and that we cannot lie our way out of it by moving somewhere else, whether it be to an Indian ashram or to a parallel polis. If Western young people so often discover that retreat to an Indian monastery fails them as an individual or group solution, then this is obviously because, and only because, it lacks that element of universality, since not everyone can retire to an ashram. Christianity is an example of an opposite way out: it is a point of departure for me here and now-but only because anyone, anywhere, at any time, may avail themselves of it. In other words, the parallel polis points beyond itself and makes sense only as an act of deepening one's responsibility to and for the whole, as a way of discovering the most appropriate locus for this responsibility, not as an escape from it.

Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being might suit our moment. Sinclair Lewis’s novel It Can’t Happen Here is perhaps not a great work of art; Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America is better. One novel known by millions of young Americans that offers an account of tyranny and resistance is J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. If you or your friends or your children did not read it that way the first time, then it bears reading again. Some of the political and historical texts that inform the arguments made here are “Politics and the English Language” by George Orwell (1946); The Language of the Third Reich by Victor Klemperer (1947); The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt (1951); The Rebel by Albert Camus (1951); The Captive Mind by Czesław Miłosz (1953); “The Power of the Powerless” by Václav Havel (1978); “How to Be a Conservative-Liberal-Socialist” by Leszek Kołakowski (1978); The Uses of Adversity by Timothy Garton Ash (1989); The Burden of Responsibility by Tony Judt (1998); Ordinary Men by Christopher Browning (1992); and Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible by Peter Pomerantsev (2014). Christians

What to read? Any good novel enlivens our ability to think about ambiguous situations and judge the intentions of others. Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being might suit our moment. Sinclair Lewis’s novel It Can’t Happen Here is perhaps not a great work of art; Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America is better. One novel known by millions of young Americans that offers an account of tyranny and resistance is J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. If you or your friends or your children did not read it that way the first time, then it bears reading again. Some of the political and historical texts that inform the arguments made here are “Politics and the English Language” by George Orwell (1946); The Language of the Third Reich by Victor Klemperer (1947); The Origins of Totalitarianism by Hannah Arendt (1951); The Rebel by Albert Camus (1951); The Captive Mind by Czesław Miłosz (1953); “The Power of the Powerless” by Václav Havel (1978); “How to Be a Conservative-Liberal-Socialist” by Leszek Kołakowski (1978); The Uses of Adversity by Timothy Garton Ash (1989); The Burden of Responsibility by Tony Judt (1998); Ordinary Men by Christopher Browning (1992); and Nothing Is True and Everything Is Possible by Peter Pomerantsev (2014).

Vaclav Havel was talking about when he said . . . The relationship to the world that modern science fostered and shaped now appears to have exhausted its potential. It is increasingly clear that, strangely, the relationship is missing something. It fails to connect with the most intrinsic nature of reality, and with natural human experience. It is now more of a source of disintegration and doubt than a source of integration and meaning. It produces what amounts to a state of schizophrenia, completely alienating man as an observer from himself as a being. Classical modern science described only the surface of things, a single dimension of reality. And the more dogmatically science treated it as the only dimension, as the very essence of reality, the more misleading it became. Today, for instance, we may know immeasurably more about the universe than our ancestors did, yet it increasingly seems that they knew something more essential about it than we do, something that escapes us. The same is true of nature and of ourselves. The more thoroughly all our organs and their functions, their internal structures, and the biochemical reactions that take place within them are described, the more we seem to fail to grasp the spirit, purpose, and meaning of the system that they create together and that we experience as our unique “self.”18

Pokud jsem byl u toho (a jistěže jsem úplně u všeho nebyl), úplně první explicitní otázku, zda zamýšlíme zakázat KSČ, vyslovil nahlas - příznačně - cizinec, britský konzervativní filozof a publicista Roger Scruton, a to 6. ledna 1990 při besedě tehdy již prezidenta Václava Havla s brněnskými studenty v Moravském národním divadle. Havel a několik lidí z pražského a brněnského OF seděli na pódiu a Rogerův hlas se během diskuse ozval odněkud z výšin třetí galerie. Neviděl jsem ho, ale poznal okamžitě podle jeho ráčkování, ačkoli jsem se s ním nemohl setkat několik let - Československo měl od jisté doby, po mnoha návštěvách, ostatně také u nás doma, zakázané. Mezitím jsem já překládal jeho knihy o konzervativním názoru na svět, na politiku. Havel mlčel, zdál se mi poněkud zaskočen, potutelně se usmál, otočil se ke mně a tiše, i když srozumitelně pro celé napjaté divadlo řekl: To bude nejspíše otázka pro tebe Petře, že...Nebyl jsem na ni ani trochu připraven, nikdy nikde do té doby jsme o možnosti zákazu KSČ nemluvili. Nějakou chvíli, možná i předlouhých pět vteřin, jsem mlčel a přemýšlel. Pak jsem do hrobového ticha toho obrovského prostoru řekl, co mně přišlo naprosto spontánně na mysl jako sukus mé životní filosofie, jako extrakt mé disidentské zkušenosti, totiž že si myslím, že daleko lepší než je zakázat by bylo porážet je ve svobodných volbách...Ozval se mohutný potlesk divadla narvaného studenty od podlahy až ke stropu.

نظام پساتوتالیترهمیشه و در هر قدم مردم را لمس می‌کند، اما همیشه با دستانی پوشیده در دستکش‌های ایدئولژیک و برای همین بود که زندگی در این نظام چنین آکنده از دورویی و ریا و دورغ است؛ حکومت بروکراتیک، حکومت مردمی خوانده می‌شود؛ کاگران به نام طبقه کارگر، به بردگی کشیده می‌شوند؛ به خواری و خفت کشیدن افراد، با عنوان آزادی تمام عیار عرضه می‌شود؛ محروم کردن افراد از اطلاعات، اطلاع‌رسانی خوانده می‌شود؛ استفاده از قدرت برای ملعبه‌سازی، نظارت عمومی بر قدرت خوانده می‌شود؛‌ و سوء استفاده دلبخواهی از قدرت، رعایت قانون؛ سرکوب فرهنگ، رشد و توسعه فرهنگ خوانده می‌شود؛ توسعه نفوذ امپریالیسمی، به نام دفاع از ستم دیده شدگان عرضه می‌شود؛ فقدان آزادی بیان، در لباس عالی‌ترین شکل آزادی ارائه می‌شود؛ به انتخابات نمایشی مضحک، عالی‌ترین شکل دموکراسی اطلاق می‌شود؛ ممنوعیت تفکر مستقل، علمی‌ترین جهان‌بینی نام می‌گیرد؛ و اشغال نظامی هم، می‌شود کمک برادرانه. چون رژیم در بند دروغ‌های خودش است، باید همه‌چیز را جعل کند و وارونه جلوه دهد. باید گذشته را جعل کند، باید حال را جعل کند و باید آینده را هم جعل کند. باید آمارها را جعل کند. باید منکر این شود که یک دستگاه امنیتی فراگیر، غیرپاسخگو و خودسر دارد. باید وانمود کند به حقوق بشر احترام می‌گذارد و باید وانمود کند کسی را مورد پیگرد و آزار قرار نمی‌دهد. باید وانمود کند از هیچ‌جیز و هیچ‌کس نمی‌ترسد. باید وانمود کند در هیچ موردی وانمود نمی‌کند

It seems the primary breeding group for what might, in the widest possible sense of the word, be understood as an opposition in the post-totalitarian system is living within the truth. The confrontation between these opposition forces and the powers that be, of course, will obviously take a form essentially different from that typical of an open society or a classical dictatorship. Initially, this confrontation does not take place on the level of real, institutionalized, quantifiable power which relies on the various instruments of power, but on a different level altogether: the level of human consciousness and conscience, the existential level. The effective range of this special power cannot be measured in terms of disciples, voters, or soldiers, because it lies spread out in the fifth column of social consciousness, in the hidden aims of life, in human beings' repressed longing for dignity and fundamental rights, for the realization of their real social and political interests. Its power, therefore does not reside in the strength of definable political or social groups, but chiefly in the strength of a potential, which is hidden throughout the whole of society, including the official power structures of that society. Therefore this power does not rely on soldiers of its own, but on the soldiers of the enemy as it were—that is to say, on everyone who is living within the lie and who may be struck at any moment (in theory, at least) by the force of truth (or who, out of an instinctive desire to protect their position, may at least adapt to that force). It is a bacteriological weapon, so to speak, utilized when conditions are ripe by a single civilian to disarm an entire division. This power does not participate in any direct struggle for power; rather, it makes its influence felt in the obscure arena of being itself. The hidden movements it gives rise to there, however, can issue forth (when, where, under what circumstances, and to what extent are difficult to predict) in something visible: a real political act or event, a social movement, a sudden explosion of civil unrest, a sharp conflict inside an apparently monolithic power structure, or simply an irrepressible transformation in the social and intellectual climate. And since all genuine problems and matters of critical importance are hidden beneath a think crust of lies, it is never quite clear when the proverbial last straw will fall, or what that straw will be. This, too, is why the regime prosecutes, almost as a reflex action preventatively, even the most modest attempts to live within the truth.

Cultism—like all totalism and fundamentalism—is a reaction against the potential confusions of protean openness. In that sense cultism is reactionary not only in its constraints on the self but on its efforts to stop the flow of history. Expressions of collective proteanism, one of which Václav Havel called “living in truth,” can be viewed as a return to the resilience of the self and its dynamic relationship to the historical process.

In some ways the soviets simplified who the enemy was”, Havel said, “Today autocrats are more sophisticated, they stand for election while slowly undermining institutions that make democracy possible. They champion free markets while engaging with the same corruption cronyism and exploitation that existed in the past".

I was able to visit Prague ten months after the successful revolution and to speak to a number of people close to Havel who described their own experiences in carrying out his principles. They found that they could call upon aspects of their selves that they didn’t know existed: a ne’er-do-well part-time musician became a completely reliable organizer and distributor of an important underground newsletter. A writer denied publishing outlets by the regime came to work effectively with mental patients and then became an adviser to the president of the new democracy. What I called “Proteus in Prague” was the capacity of individual people for attitudes, actions, and skills they had not previously recognized in themselves.

Henry David Thoreau, whom Gandhi read, declared, “Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth.” Havel, Gandhi, and Thoreau sought to live out humane truths that challenged the falsehoods imposed upon them by what they perceived as the malignant normality of their societies.

Bands were first forced to abandon their repertoire of Anglo-American standards and covers and obliged to sing in Czech, a lovely and poetic language, albeit with a pronounced shortage of one-word rhymes that does not lend itself easily to rocking rhythms.

Či nespojili se snad „známí disidenti“ v Chartě 77 poté, co je spojila solidarita s neznámými hudebníky, nespojili se v ní snad s nimi a nestali se snad právě skrze to oněmi „známými "disidenty"? Je to věru krutý paradox, že čím víc se někteří občané zastávají jiných občanů, tím častěji jsou označováni slovem, které je od těchto „jiných občanů“ odděluje! Uvozovky, do nichž v celé této úvaze důsledně slovo „disident“ kladu, dostávají, doufám, touto explikací jasný smysl.

The function of the state and of its structures in such a society are limited only to that which cannot be performed by anyone else. [Quoting Valclad Havel]

[In 2014] …far from Prague, the Library of Congress organized a special tribute on the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Velvet Revolution to honor the life and legacy of Havel and to unveil a bust of the man that would be placed inside the U.S. capitol. […] John McCain, the conservative senator, called Havel a great man, saying he epitomized the cutting edge of what led to the end of the Soviet empire.

I haven’t touched a woman since the day I realized you were it for me.” No sex for over eight years?

Since great businesses remain great for an eternity, everyone knows about them. Investors bid their prices up, and rightly so. The ten-year average price/earnings (PE) multiples of some of the leading consumer businesses in India are astronomical. For example, Asian Paints, 56; Colgate India, 43; Dabur, 44; Hindustan Unilever, 51; and Page Industries, 65. As price-sensitive investors, we should not buy these businesses since their valuations would almost always be too high for us. And we don’t. From the list provided two paragraphs earlier, the only companies we have been able to buy since 2007 are Page, Havells, and TTK Prestige. Our window of opportunity for buying these three was only two to three months over almost fifteen years—a punctuation event that lasted just 1 to 2 percent of this period. There are very few great businesses, and they are almost always unbuyable.

Since great businesses remain great for an eternity, everyone knows about them. Investors bid their prices up, and rightly so. The ten-year average price/earnings (PE) multiples of some of the leading consumer businesses in India are astronomical. For example, Asian Paints, 56; Colgate India, 43; Dabur, 44; Hindustan Unilever, 51; and Page Industries, 65. As price-sensitive investors, we should not buy these businesses since their valuations would almost always be too high for us. And we don’t. From the list provided two paragraphs earlier, the only companies we have been able to buy since 2007 are Page, Havells, and TTK Prestige. Our window of opportunity for buying these three was only two to three months over almost fifteen years—a punctuation event that lasted just 1 to 2 percent of this period. There are very few great businesses, and they are almost always unbuyable. Hence, we buy very rarely, and when we do, we buy a lot.

There are a few large and successful firms in most industries. 2. These successful companies are becoming even more successful. 3. Weak companies are getting weaker. Numbers 1 and 2 are direct conclusions of the research, and number 3 is an indirect but logical outcome of 1 and 2. As I wrote earlier, our investing experience in India is not different from what research from the United States, the United Kingdom, or Europe says. Our investee companies have been gaining share over the competition over decades. Some examples are Berger in the paint industry, Supreme in plastic pipes, Voltamp in industrial transformers, Page in innerwear, Havells and V-Guard in consumer electricals, Amara Raja in batteries, Info Edge in job boards, MRF in tires, and Ratnamani in specialty steel pipes. In India, too, great businesses continue to be great, and poor businesses continue to suffer. The observation that “stasis is the default” does not respect national boundaries.

And yet, if a handful of friends and I were able to bang our heads against the wall for years by speaking the truth about Communist totalitarianism while surrounded by an ocean of apathy, there is no reason why I shouldn’t go on banging my head against the wall by speaking ad nauseum, despite the condescending smiles, about responsibility and morality in the face of our present social marasmus. There is no reason to think that this struggle is a lost cause. The only lost cause is one we give up on before we enter the struggle.

I nodded, recalling the conversation I’d had with Václav Havel during my visit to Prague and his warning about the rising tide of illiberalism in Europe. If globalization and a historic economic crisis were fueling these trends in relatively wealthy nations—if I was seeing it even in the United States with the Tea Party—how could India be immune? For the truth was that despite the resilience of its democracy and its impressive recent economic performance, India still bore little resemblance to the egalitarian, peaceful, and sustainable society Gandhi had envisioned. Across the country, millions continued to live in squalor, trapped in sunbaked villages or labyrinthine slums, even as the titans of Indian industry enjoyed lifestyles that the rajas and moguls of old would have envied. Violence, both public and private, remained an all-too-pervasive part of Indian life. Expressing hostility toward Pakistan was still the quickest route to national unity, with many Indians taking great pride in the knowledge that their country had developed a nuclear weapons program to match Pakistan’s, untroubled by the fact that a single miscalculation by either side could risk regional annihilation.

Havel, as much as anyone, had given moral voice to the grassroots democracy movements that had brought the Soviet era to an end. Along with Nelson Mandela and a handful of other living statesmen, he’d also been a distant role model for me.

Then there’s absenteeism. Absenteeism is a purposeful and intentional skipping of work because of conditions people are facing at the job. It’s glorified hooky. It’s a significant financial hit. And it’s rampant in toxic workplaces because people have an oversized need to get out of the office. How expensive is absenteeism? Kaiser Permanente analyzed employee absenteeism and estimated it costs businesses $ 1,685 per employee per year.

Hazel began to utter strange notions about Alice’s role, including the idea that she needed to do something to demonstrate her loyalty. I hadn’t heard this schtick outside of Mafia movies. She verbalized at one point that “I want her to prove her loyalty. She should be willing to do anything I tell her to do. She’s got to prove she wants to be on my team.

As she approached the table, I rose to my feet and shook her hand. “Thanks for coming, Hazel,” I said. “Thank you for inviting me,” she replied, giving me a head-to-toe look as we shook hands.

The Belittlers—These people hurl insults and putdowns at every opportunity. They’re better than you and their work is, too—just ask them!

Of the employees whose managers were described as incompetent, inconsiderate, secretive, and uncommunicative, a whopping 60 percent suffered heart attacks or other life-threatening cardiac conditions.

In uncertain times, Mr. President,” the prime minister said, “the call of religious and ethnic solidarity can be intoxicating. And it’s not so hard for politicians to exploit that, in India or anywhere else.” I nodded, recalling the conversation I’d had with Václav Havel during my visit to Prague and his warning about the rising tide of illiberalism in Europe. If globalization and a historic economic crisis were fueling these trends in relatively wealthy nations—if I was seeing it even in the United States with the Tea Party—how could India be immune? For the truth was that despite the resilience of its democracy and its impressive recent economic performance, India still bore little resemblance to the egalitarian, peaceful, and sustainable society Gandhi had envisioned. Across the country, millions continued to live in squalor, trapped in sunbaked villages or labyrinthine slums, even as the titans of Indian industry enjoyed lifestyles that the rajas and moguls of old would have envied. Violence, both public and private, remained an all-too-pervasive part of Indian life. Expressing hostility toward Pakistan was still the quickest route to national unity, with many Indians taking great pride in the knowledge that their country “had developed a nuclear weapons program to match Pakistan’s, untroubled by the fact that a single miscalculation by either side could risk regional annihilation.

گاهی اوقات برای درک حقیقت باید به قعر تیره‌بختی ها برویم؛

it is typically progressives who have come to power with a comprehensive critique of existing society and a popular mandate (at least initially) to transform it. These progressives have wanted to use that power to bring about enormous changes in people’s habits, work, living patterns, moral conduct, and worldview.7 They have deployed what Václav Havel has called “the armory of holistic social engineering.”8 Utopian aspirations per se are not dangerous. As Oscar Wilde remarked, “A map of the world which does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is always landing.”9 Where the utopian vision goes wrong is when it is held by ruling elites with no commitment to democracy or civil rights and who are therefore likely to use unbridled state power for its achievement. Where it goes brutally wrong is when the society subjected to such utopian experiments lacks the capacity to mount a determined resistance.

According to the FBI, Semtex has an indefinite half-life and is far stronger than traditional explosives such as TNT. It is also easily available on the black market. Semtex became infamous when just 12 ounces of the substance, molded inside a Toshiba cassette recorder, blasted Pan Am flight 103 out of the sky above Lockerbie, Scotland, in December 1988, killing 270 people. A year later, after the Czech Communist regime was toppled, the new president, Vaclav Havel, revealed that the Czechs had exported 900 tons of Semtex to Col. Moammar Qaddafi's Libya and another 1,000 tons to other unstable states such as Syria, North Korea, Iraq, and Iran. Some experts now put worldwide stockpiles of Semtex at 40,000 tons. Brebera says that with so much Semtex already in the hands of terrorists, and similar explosives being produced in other countries, the Czech Republic can no longer control it. "Semtex is no worse an explosive than any other," he says, defensive at the sight of accusatory headlines in Western newspapers. "The American explosive C4 is just as invisible to airport X-rays, but they don't like to mention that." After the Lockerbie tragedy, Brebera added metal components and a distinct odor to make Semtex easier to detect. But that did not stop terrorists from using it to bomb the US Embassy in Nairobi, Kenya, in 1998, or prevent the IRA, which received about 10 tons of Semtex from Libya, from continuing its attacks.

A specter is haunting Eastern Europe: the specter of what in the West is called "dissent." This specter has not appeared out of thin air. It is a natural and inevitable consequence of the present historical phase of the system it is haunting. It was born at a time when this system, for a thousand reasons, can no longer base itself on the unadulterated, brutal, and arbitrary application of power, eliminating all expressions of nonconformity. What is more, the system has become so ossified politically that there is practically no way for such nonconformity to be implemented within its official structures.

C’était en décembre 1989, un moment propice. Je rentrais de Prague, où les dramaturges et historiens du Forum civique de Václav Havel délogeaient un État policier communiste et jetaient dans les poubelles de l’histoire quarante années de « socialisme réellement existant ».

Vision is not enough; it must be combined with venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps; we must step up the stairs.

A právě nacionalismus je třetí důvod populistického skluzu české politiky. Důraz na etnicky pojatou národní pospolitost souvisí s ochromením pluralismu ve společnosti. Václav Havel tento trend pojmenoval dříve, než se vzedmula vlna nacionál-populismu: „Po takových příhodách se pak objevuje zákonitě volání po další hegemonizaci společnosti: zbavíme se Židů, pak Němců, pak buržoazie, pak disidentů, pak Slováků - a kdo bude na řadě příště? Romové? Homosexuálové? Cizinci vůbec? A kdo tu zbude? Čistokrevní Čecháčkové se svým dvorečkem. Nejde jen o to, že takové postoje nebo dokonce taková politika jsou nemravné, jde i o to, že jsou sebevražedné.

Nationalism is the third reason for the populist slip in Czech politics. The emphasis on ethnically conceived national unity is related to the paralysis of pluralism in society. Václav Havel named this trend before the wave of national-populism arose: "After such episodes, there is a legitimate call for further hegemonization of society: let's get rid of the Jews, then the Germans, then the bourgeoisie, then the dissidents, then the Slovaks - and who will be next? The Roma? Homosexuals? Foreigners in general? And who will be left? The pure-blooded little Czechs with their backyard. It's not just that such attitudes or even such policies are immoral, it's that they are suicidal.

You

announced

I regimi totalitari non sono semplicemente dei vicini pericolosi e, ancor meno, una sorta di avanguardia del progresso del mondo. Ahimè, sono l’esatto contrario: l’avanguardia di una crisi globale di questa civiltà, prima europea, poi euroamericana e, in ultima istanza, globale.

(Il potere totalitario) È la legge totalizzante di un potere borioso, anonimamente burocratico, non ancora irresponsabile ma già operante al di fuori della coscienza, un potere radicato in una finzione ideologica onnipresente, che può razionalizzare qualsiasi cosa, senza neppure dover entrare in contatto con la verità. Il potere come l’onnipresente monopolio del controllo, della repressione e della paura. Il potere che fa del pensiero, della moralità e della dimensione privata un monopolio di Stato e, in tal modo, li disumanizza. Il potere che da tempo non è più il problema di un gruppo di governanti arbitrari, ma che, piuttosto, invade e fagocita tutti, se non altro attraverso il loro silenzio, in modo che qualsiasi cosa diventi tutt’uno con esso. In realtà, nessuno possiede un tale potere, dal momento che è il potere stesso a possedere tutti; è una mostruosità che non è guidata dagli uomini, ma che, al contrario, li trascina tutti, con il suo «oggettivo» impeto di sé – oggettivo nel senso di essere estraneo a tutti i princìpi umani, inclusa la ragione umana e perciò interamente irrazionale – verso un futuro terrificante e sconosciuto.

ricostruire il mondo naturale come vero terreno della politica, a riabilitare l’esperienza personale degli uomini come misura prima delle cose, ponendo la moralità sopra la politica e la responsabilità al di sopra dei nostri desideri, a dare significato alla comunità degli uomini, a restituire il contenuto al linguaggio umano, a ricostituire l’«Io»-uomo, autonomo, integrale, dignitoso come fulcro di tutta l’azione sociale, responsabile per noi stessi, perché siamo legati a qualcosa di più grande e capace di sacrificare qualcosa, in casi estremi anche tutto, della sua prosperosa e banale vita privata– quella «legge della quotidianità», come Jan Patocˇka era solita definirla– per il bene di ciò che dà significato alla vita.

siamo di fronte a un compito fondamentale da cui tutto il resto dovrebbe discendere. Tale compito è quello di resistere in modo vigile e attento, ma allo stesso tempo con totale dedizione, sempre e ovunque, all’impeto irrazionale del potere anonimo, impersonale e inumano, il potere delle ideologie, dei sistemi, degli apparati, della burocrazia, dei linguaggi artificiali e degli slogan politici. Dobbiamo resistere alla sua complessa e totalmente alienante pressione, sia che assuma la forma di consumo, pubblicità, repressione, tecnologia o cliché, che sono tutti consanguinei del fanatismo e fonte del pensiero totalitario.

Sono convinto che il modo migliore di affrontarli sia quello di studiarli senza pregiudizio, imparare da essi e resistergli, comportandosi in modo radicalmente differente; laddove tale differenza nasce da una continua lotta contro il male che essi incarnano con tanta chiarezza, e che, tuttavia, dimora ovunque e quindi anche in ognuno di noi.

Sono convinto che il modo migliore di affrontarli (ai regimi totalitari) sia quello di studiarli senza pregiudizio, imparare da essi e resistergli, comportandosi in modo radicalmente differente; laddove tale differenza nasce da una continua lotta contro il male che essi incarnano con tanta chiarezza, e che, tuttavia, dimora ovunque e quindi anche in ognuno di noi.

La miglior resistenza al totalitarismo è semplicemente quella di allontanarlo dalle nostre anime, dalla nostra realtà, dalla nostra terra, di scacciarlo dall’umanità contemporanea. Il migliore aiuto per chi soffre sotto i regimi totalitari è quello di affrontare il male che il sistema totalitario rappresenta, dal quale trae la sua forza e del quale la sua «avanguardia» si nutre. Se non esiste una tale avanguardia, un germoglio estremista da cui possa svilupparsi, il sistema non avrà niente su cui appoggiarsi. Una riaffermata responsabilità umana è la barriera più naturale contro tutta l’irresponsabilità.

We do not have the tools or the wealth of the state. We cannot beat it at its own game. We cannot ferret out infiltrators. The legal system is almost always on the state’s side. If we attempt to replicate the elaborate security apparatuses of our oppressors, even on a small scale, we unleash paranoia and fracture those who build movements. If we retreat into anonymity, hiding behind masks, then we provide an opening for agents provocateurs who deny their identities while disrupting the movement. If we fight pitched battles in the streets, we give authorities an excuse to fire their weapons and demonize the movement to the public. All we have, as Vaclav Havel wrote, is our powerlessness. And that powerlessness is our strength. The ability of the movement to overthrow the corporate state depends on two of our most important assets—utter and complete transparency, and a rigid adherence to nonviolence, including respect for private property. These assets permit us, as Havel puts it in his classic 1978 essay “The Power of the Powerless”, to live in truth. And by living in truth, we expose a corrupt corporate state that perpetuates lies and functions by deceit.

The real test of a man is not how well he plays the role he has invented for himself, but how well he plays the role that destiny assigned to him.

Rather, they must keep their balance and stay focused on, in Havel’s words, “the everyday, thankless, and never-ending struggle of human beings to live more freely, truthfully, and in quiet dignity.

Arsemid nebyl zázračné dítě, ale od samého narození měl dar pozorovat své okolí. A napodobovat je. To už tak bylo. Není vždy snadné napodobit okolí. Venku je hezky. Arsemid chce být hezky. Venku je podzim, padá listí. Arsemid chce být podzim, padat listí.

he knew from studying maps in preparation: the broad avenues leading to the Brandenburg Gate. He had played Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos records many times, intricate magic alive in the air. The gate that led to the town of Brandenburg an der Havel.