Havel, the artist, was a reluctant head of state (as he was a reluctant dissident). Claiming a commitment stemming from a sense of decency and morality, Havel writes that “It simply seemed to me that, since I had been saying A for so long, I could not refuse to say B; it would have been irresponsible of me to criticize the Communist regime all my life and then, when it finally collapsed (with some help from me), refuse to take part in the creation of something better” (xvi).
Havel reasons that if he and his compatriots were able to topple Communism through means that were decent (nonviolent; true to their ideals), it is no less naïve to think that the same decency and morality could direct politics. If any politician were able to make such a claim, it would be Havel the artist intellectual, someone who convincingly claims that he has no interest in power.
Communist control corrupted the citizenry, Havel explains, and so a remaking of the way citizens relate to one another, is necessary to advance a decent politics. An entire generation was born into Communism and seized civic institutions socialized that generation into Communism. It is not a stretch to argue that people and civic institutions would need to be rehabilitated with a breath of free air.
Given his survival of the Soviet regime, it is not difficult to understand where Havel is coming from when he rejects “topographic” positions of right and left in politics. After being denied a space of civil society in which ideas could freely pass, one can imagine the thirst for new thinking to push out any entertainment of strict ideologies. As the nation’s new leader, Havel resists identifying strictly, as capitalist, socialist, or otherwise. Regarding the latter: “It has been a long time since I referred to myself as a socialist, not because my heart is now in a different place, but because that word—especially in our linguistic context, where it has been so abused—is more confusing than precise. Though it is starting to mean something precise again today, it still does not offer what I would call a meaningful point of departure
(61).
But for an American, living in a society with a history of a relatively free civic society that has not managed to produce sufficient power to fight back against capital, to read Havel’s ideological open-endness causes one to grow impatient. The effect is a feeling of pleasure while between the book covers, but a vague sense of doubt after the book is closed. Like when reality begins to seep in after closing a work of fiction and the novel recedes from reality and into memory.
Appreciating Havel, then, involves a certain suspension of context. While putting oneself in Havel’s context, we can affirm his deep faith and investment in public debate and civil society, and the clean slate of new ideas. How incredibly simple and refreshing--indeed revolutionary--it must have been, to make arguments for the free and open exchange of ideas and decency in public life after Communism’s fall. After the “moment after the revolution,” as experience accumulates, theorizing the summation of those experiences would be important for informing future decisions. Summer Meditations is this early moment, and is a pleasure to read. Later writing by Havel, with requisite reflection on decisions and positions taken, therefore, would be fascinating to read. Can this well-wishing permeate the rest of society, leading to political health, or will thuggery from the nation’s Soviet past endure and corrupt society for the foreseeable future?