生命不能承受之轻-第32章

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Let　us　concede　that　a　Czech　public　prosecutor　in　the　early　fifties　who　called　for　the　death　of　an　innocent　man　was　deceived　by　the　Russian　secret　police　and　the　government　of　his　own　country。　But　now　that　we　all　know　the　accusations　to　have　been　absurd　and　the　executed　to　have　been　innocent；　how　can　that　selfsame　public　prosecutor　defend　his　purity　of　heart　by　beating　himself　on　the　chest　and　proclaiming；　My　conscience　is　clear！　I　didn't　know！　I　was　a　believer！　Isn't　his　I　didn't　know！　I　was　a　believer！　at　the　very　root　of　his　irreparable　guilt？
It　was　in　this　connection　that　Tomas　recalled　the　tale　of　Oedipus：　Oedipus　did　not　know　he　was　sleeping　with　his　own　mother；　yet　when　he　realized　what　had　happened；　he　did　not　feel　innocent。　Unable　to　stand　the　sight　of　the　misfortunes　he　had　wrought　by　not　knowing；　he　put　out　his　eyes　and　wandered　blind　away　from　Thebes。
When　Tomas　heard　Communists　shouting　in　defense　of　their　inner　purity；　he　said　to　himself；　As　a　result　of　your　not　knowing；　this　country　has　lost　its　freedom；　lost　it　for　centuries；　perhaps；　and　you　shout　that　you　feel　no　guilt？　How　can　you　stand　the　sight　of　what　you've　done？　How　is　it　you　aren't　horrified？　Have　you　no　eyes　to　see？　If　you　had　eyes；　you　would　have　to　put　them　out　and　wander　away　from　Thebes！
The　analogy　so　pleased　him　that　he　often　used　it　in　conversation　with　friends；　and　his　formulation　grew　increasingly　precise　and　elegant。
Like　all　intellectuals　at　the　time；　he　read　a　weekly　newspaper　published　in　three　hundred　thousand　copies　by　the　Union　of　Czech　Writers。　It　was　a　paper　that　had　achieved　considerable　autonomy　within　the　regime　and　dealt　with　issues　forbidden　to　others。　Consequently；　it　was　the　writers'　paper　that　raised　the　issue　of　who　bore　the　burden　of　guilt　for　the　judicial　murders　resulting　from　the　political　trials　that　marked　the　early　years　of　Communist　power。
Even　the　writers'　paper　merely　repeated　the　same　question：　Did　they　know　or　did　they　not？　Because　Tomas　found　this　question　second…rate；　he　sat　down　one　day；　wrote　down　his　reflections　on　Oedipus；　and　sent　them　to　the　weekly。　A　month　later　he　received　an　answer：　an　invitation　to　the　editorial　offices。　The　editor　who　greeted　him　was　short　but　as　straight　as　a　ruler。　He　suggested　that　Tomas　change　the　word　order　in　one　of　the　sentences。　And　soon　the　text　made　its　appearance—on　the　next　to　the　last　page；　in　the　Letters　to　the　Editor　section。
Tomas　was　far　from　overjoyed。　They　had　considered　it　necessary　to　ask　him　to　the　editorial　offices　to　approve　a　change　in　word　order；　but　then；　without　asking　him；　shortened　his　text　by　so　much　that　it　was　reduced　to　its　basic　thesis　（making　it　too　schematic　and　aggressive）。　He　didn't　like　it　anymore。
All　this　happened　in　the　spring　of　1968。　Alexander　Dubcek　was　in　power；　along　with　those　Communists　who　felt　guilty　and　were　willing　to　do　something　about　their　guilt。　But　the　other　Communists；　the　ones　who　kept　shouting　how　innocent　they　were；　were　afraid　that　the　enraged　nation　would　bring　them　to　justice。　They　complained　daily　to　the　Russian　ambassador；　trying　to　drum　up　support。　When　Tomas's　letter　appeared；　they　shouted：　See　what　things　have　come　to！　Now　they're　telling　us　publicly　to　put　our　eyes　out！
Two　or　three　months　later　the　Russians　decided　that　free　speech　was　inadmissible　in　their　gubernia；　and　in　a　single　night　they　occupied　Tomas's　country　with　their　army。
3
When　Tomas　came　back　to　Prague　from　Zurich；　he　took　up　in　his　hospital　where　he　had　left　off。　Then　one　day　the　chief　surgeon　called　him　in。
You　know　as　well　as　I　do；　he　said；　that　you're　no　writer　or　journalist　or　savior　of　the　nation。　You're　a　doctor　and　a　scientist。　I'd　be　very　sad　to　lose　you；　and　I'll　do　everything　I　can　to　keep　you　here。　But　you've　got　to　retract　that　article　you　wrote　about　Oedipus。　Is　it　terribly　important　to　you？　
To　tell　you　the　truth；　said　Tomas；　recalling　how　they　had　amputated　a　good　third　of　the　text；　it　couldn't　be　any　less　important。　
You　know　what's　at　stake；　said　the　chief　surgeon。
He　knew；　all　right。　There　were　two　things　in　the　balance：　his　honor　（which　consisted　in　his　refusing　to　retract　what　he　had　said）　and　what　he　had　come　to　call　the　meaning　of　his　life　（his　work　in　medicine　and　research）。
The　chief　surgeon　went　on：　The　pressure　to　make　public　retractions　of　past　statements—there's　something　medieval　about　it。　What　does　it　mean；　anyway；　to　'retract'　what　you've　said？　How　can　anyone　state　categorically　that　a　thought　he　once　had　is　no　longer　valid？　In　modern　times　an　idea　can　be　refuted；　yes；　but　not　retracted。　And　since　to　retract　an　idea　is　impossible；　merely　verbal；　formal　sorcery；　I　see　no　reason　why　you　shouldn't　do　as　they　wish。　In　a　society　run　by　terror；　no　statements　whatsoever　can　be　taken　seriously。　They　are　all　forced；　and　it　is　the　duty　of　every　honest　man　to　ignore　them。　Let　me　conclude　by　saying　that　it　is　in　my　interest　and　in　your　patients'　interest　that　you　stay　on　here　with　us。　
You're　right；　I'm　sure；　said　Tomas；　looking　very　unhappy。
But？　The　chief　surgeon　was　trying　to　guess　his　train　of　thought。
I'm　afraid　I'd　be　ashamed。　
Ashamed！　You　mean　to　say　you　hold　your　colleagues　in　such　high　esteem　that　you　care　what　they　think？　
No；　I　don't　hold　them　in　high　esteem；　said　Tomas。
Oh；　by　the　way；　the　chief　surgeon　added；　you　won't　have　to　make　a　public　statement。　I　have　their　assurance。　They're　bureaucrats。　All　they　need　is　a　note　in　their　files　to　the　effect　that　you've　nothing　against　the　regime。　Then　if　someone　comes　and　attacks　them　for　letting　you　work　at　the　hospital；　they're　covered。　They've　given　me　their　word　that　anything　you　say　will　remain　between　you　and　them。　They　have　no　intention　of　publishing　a　word　of　it。　
Give　me　a　week　to　think　it　over；　said　Tomas；　and　there　the　matter　rested。
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Tomas　was　considered　the　best　surgeon　in　the　hospital。　Rumor　had　it　that　the　chief　surgeon；　who　was　getting　on　towards　retirement　age；　would　soon　ask　him　to　take　over。　When　that　rumor　was　supplemented　by　the　rumor　that　the　authorities　had　requested　a　statement　of　self…criticism　from　him；　no　one　doubted　he　would　comply。
That　was　the　first　thing　that　struck　him：　although　he　had　never　given　people　cause　to　doubt　his　integrity；　they　were　ready　to　bet　on　his　dishonesty　rather　than　on　his　virtue。
The　second　thing　that　struck　him　was　their　reaction　to　the　position　they　attributed　to　him。　I　might　divide　it　into　two　basic　types：
The　first　type　of　reaction　came　from　people　who　themselves　（they　or　their　intimates）　had　retracted　something；　who　had　themselves　been　forced　to　make　public　peace　with　the　occupation　regime　or　were　prepared　to　do　so　（unwillingly；　of　course—no　one　wanted　to　do　it）。
These　people　began　to　smile　a　curious　smile　at　him；　a　smile　he　had　never　seen　before：　the　sheepish　smile　of　secret　conspiratorial　consent。　It　was　the　smile　of　two　men　meeting　accidentally　in　a　brothel：　both　slightly　abashed；　they　are　at　the　same　time　glad　that　the　feeling　is　mutual；　and　a　bond　of　something　akin　to　brotherhood　develops　between　them。
Their　smiles　were　all　the　more　complacent　because　he　had　never　had　the　reputation　of　being　a　conformist。　His　supposed　acceptance　of　the　chief　surgeon's　proposal　was　therefore　further　proof　that　cowardice　was　slowly　but　surely　becoming　the　norm　of　behavior　and　would　soon　cease　being　taken　for　what　it　actually　was。　He　had　never　been　friends　with　these　people；　and　he　realized　with　dismay　that　if　he　did　in　fact　make　the　statement　the　chief　surgeon　had　requested　of　him；　they　would　start　inviting　him　to　parties　and　he　would　have　to　make　friends　with　them。
The　second　type　of　reaction　came　from　people　who　themselves　（they　or　their　intimates）　had　been　persecuted；　who　had　refused　to　compromise　with　the　occupation　powers　or　were　convinced　they　would　refuse　to　compromise　（to　sign　a　statement）　even　though　no　one　had　requested　it　of　them　（for　instance；　because　they　were　too　young　to　be　seriously　involved）。
One　of　the　latter；　Doctor　S。；　a　talented　young　physician；　asked　Tomas　one　day；　Well；　have　you　written　it　up　for　them？　
What　in　the　world　are　you　talking　about？　Tomas　asked　in　return。
Why；　your　retraction；　he　said。　There　was　no　malice　in　his　voice。　He　even　smiled。　One　more　smile　from　that　thick　her