Via Prague: Assasination of an Author? Or just good journalism?

One of my favorite Czech writers, Milan Kundera, made headlines this week. The acclaimed author of 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being,' 'The Joke,' and 'The Book of Laughter and Forgetting' might have been an informer for the police, according to a report by the Czech-backed Institute for the Study of Totalitarian Regimes.
According to the report, Kundera, as a student in 1950, told police about a guest in the dormitory where he lived. The guest, Miroslav Dvoracek, who had defected to Germany in 1948 and was said to have been recruited by the United States-backed anti-Communists as a spy, was subsequently arrested and was sentenced to more than 20 years in prison.
The report's findings were published in this month's Respekt, a Czech magazine, and this past week made headlines in the New York Times, and other leading papers around the world, and has caused quite a stir here in the Czech Republic. Kundera, who fled Czechoslovakia following the Soviet-led invasion in 1968, has resided in France since the 1970s, has for many years been seen as a moral voice of reason in regards to the Communist era. His novels offer profound, witty and dark criticisms of life under a totalitarian regime.
Czechs have mixed feelings about Kundera. For one thing, many of his books have not been translated into Czech, and the reclusive author rarely visits his native country.
In a rare interview this week, Kundera called the report's findings 'pure lies,' and accused the news media of committing 'the assasination of an author.'
'My memory has not tricked me,' Kundera told CTK, the Czech news agency. 'I did not work for the secret police.'
I talked about the story a bit with students, especially since as I said I highly regard Kundera's work. 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being,' in particular, is required reading for any self-respecting lover of modern literature, Czech or otherwise.
Some in the media have speculated whether the report's findings will forever tarnish Kundera's standing, both as an author and as a critic of his country's Communist past.
My student Misa, who works for the government, offered a perspective that other students agreed with.
'I think during the time of Communism, everybody was at least a little guilty,' she said. 'Nobody was completely innocent.'
'I think it is possible,' says Daniel, another student, whose grandfather spent more than five years in prison during the 1950s after the state took over his farm.. 'Knowing that at one time (Kundera) was a strong supporter of the Commuist party. In our archives there are a lot of documents still uncovered, so they may contain a lot of surprises.'
Many people, Daniel, added, during that time who were publicly against the Communists also secretly collaborated with the secret police.
'But for some people cooperation with secret police was the only way to continue doing their work.'
Under Communism, informing -- on friends, colleagues, enemies -- was rampant. Why? Perhaps out of the misguided belief that by informing on your neighbor, then the state will believe you are innocent, or that your own crimes or misdemeanors will be overlooked. Such hypocrisy is a focal point in many of Kundera's works, an irony that surely hasn't been lost on his admirers.
According to the report, in 1950, during the era of Stalinist terror, 'Milan Kundera, student, born 1 April 1929 in Brno, resident of Prague VII student hall of residence,' went to the local police at 4 p.m. and made a statement about Iva Militka, another student from the residence.
Kundera allegedly learned that the woman had been approached by a man (Dvoracek) and given a briefcase 'for safekeeping.' Informed by Kundera about the briefcase, police waited for Dvoracek to return, found that he had a false identity document, and arrested him.
According to the report, the briefcase contained, 'two hats, two pairs of gloves, two pairs of sunglasses, and a tube of cream.'
Sound strange? It wasn't uncommon, during the years after the second World War, that Czechs who escaped the country returned to spy on the Czech government. In fact, the reporter who broke the story, Adam Hradilek, was was researching a story on these people when he came across the report. The magazine's editor, Martin Simecka, told reporters he had no reason to doubt the authenticity of the 1950 police report.
I'm sure we'll have follow ups to the story in the Czech press. Personally, the findings -- true or not -- won't affect my admiration for Kundera as an author. As to his actions as a young man nearly 60 years ago, well, who knows? I don't know what it's like to live under a totalitarian regime. I do know that Kundera was a staunch supporter of the Communists until the 1968 invasion, after which he was fired from his teaching position and his works banned. It is conceivable that as a young supporter of the Party, that he could have informed on a suspected spy, and perhaps now, as a lionized aging giant, is in a state of denial. Certainly what happened to him subsequently, the loss of position and the censorship, were heavy prices to pay themselves.
Either way, his work will stand, and I wouldn't be surprised if we saw in his next work this whole issue revisited.
Daniel says the findings won't affect his opinion of Kundera, but it could affect the writers' reputation among others.
'It's difficult,' says Daniel. 'The Velvet Revolution came when I was 10, I didn't really live under Communism. So I don't know how a lot of people felt. I think his guilt hasn't been proved. The affair needs time to be sorted out. But as for others, it could affect his reputation because for them it could mean Kundera collaborated with the secret police.'

Via Prague

Literary and other offerings from former Times-Standard reporter James Tressler, who is living, teaching and writing in Prague.

Assasination of an Author? Or just good journalism?

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