Twenty six
years ago, on November 17, 1989 the Velvet Revolution began in Prague. If not
the revolution itself, its aftermath was indirectly linked to my philosophy
seminars, which I held in Prague in 1977-1980 for young people barred from
university education because of their parents’ participation in an attempt to
humanise socialism in our country in Prague Spring 1968. How could the aftermath
of the Velvet revolution of 1989 be linked, however indirectly, to my
philosophy seminars of late 1970s? In 1978 I invited Oxford dons to my seminar.
Roger Scruton’s ‘A Catacomb Culture’ published in the Times Literary Supplement, February
16-22, 1990 is well qualified to establish the link: ‘The publicity-conscious
Tomin then emigrated and … Kathleen Wilkes, Alan Montefiore, Bill Newton-Smith
and myself … We decided that, although our purpose was charitable … it should
not be openly pursued, and that we could henceforth best help our Czechoslovak
colleagues working secretly … We were able to set up a network of secret
classes – not only in Bohemia, but also in Moravia and Slovakia … a small sum
of money had been given for the relief of our Czechoslovak colleagues [the Jan
Hus Foundation trust was founded] … Many of our visitors were extremely well
known in their own countries … We also encouraged our French, German, American
and Canadian colleagues to establish sister trusts, thereby acquiring an
international dimension which was to prove invaluable in the hard years to come
… We were obliged by our trust to support educational and cultural activities
in Czechoslovakia … We therefore began to establish other, purely nominal
organizations through which to pay official stipends, so that the names of our
beneficiaries could not be linked either to us or to each other … In the
mid-1980s, thanks to a generous grant from George Soros (who will surely be
commemorated in future years, not only as a great Hungarian patriot, but also
as one of the saviours of Central Europe), we had expanded into Moravia … it
was a time of miracles … Čarnogurský was made
Deputy Prime Minister of his country … another of our beneficiaries was
President [Václav Havel], and within weeks we were to see our
friends occupying the highest offices in the land … Among those who had worked
with us we could count the new rectors of the Charles University, of the
Masaryk University in Brno, and of the Palacký University
in Olomouc.’
I was in
Oxford in the years that preceded the Velvet revolution. Deprived of my
citizenship in 1981 I did my best to compel the Czechoslovak authorities to
restore it. One of the highlights of my campaign was an open letter to the
World Congress of philosophy in Brighton in which I wrote: ‘It took me seven
months in Oxford to realize that the Master of Balliol knew what he was saying
when he told me after my arrival that there was no place for me in the British
academic establishment. I realized that by refusing to give up my approach to
philosophy, and to classical philosophy in particular, I was committing myself
to a lifetime of unemployment. I decided to return home. At that point the
Czechoslovak authorities deprived me of my citizenship. Would the congress
support my demand for the restoration of my Czechoslovak citizenship?’ (The
open letter was published by The Times
Higher Education Supplement on August 19, 1988)
My campaign
for the restoration of my Czechoslovak citizenship culminated during
Gorbachev’s visit in Britain; I wrote to him: ‘May I use the opportunity of
your visit to Britain to express support for glasnost and perestroika
in your country, and to protest against the lack of both in Czechoslovakia? In
an attempt to give my support and my protest more weight, I shall begin on
Wednesday, the day of your arrival, a ten day hunger-strike … Would you join
the voices of hundreds of British students and academics who in recent years
have petitioned the Czechoslovak authorities to restore my citizen’s rights … When
my citizenship is restored, I shall use the expert knowledge in my academic
field acquired during my stay in Britain to the benefit of my country. My
ambition is to open at Charles University in Prague an International centre for
the Study of Ancient Philosophy where academics from Czechoslovakia, the Soviet
Union, and other East European countries would regularly meet their colleagues
from Britain and other Western countries to maintain our common cultural
roots.’ (ApriI 3, 1989)
***
A few months
later, a day after the beginning of the Velvet Revolution in Czechoslovakia,
Nick Cohen put an end to my hopes. In ‘The Pub Philosopher’ he wrote: ‘Jonathan
Barnes, Professor of Ancient Philosophy at Balliol College, Oxford, impatiently
brushed aside the suggestion that the Conservative’s reduction in funding for
British philosophy since 1980 might explain why there was never an academic
post for Tomin at Oxford. “That’s not the point at all,” he said. “He would not
be accepted as a graduate here, let alone be given a teaching job. He’s like a
recalcitrant student who can’t admit he’s wrong.” … Tomin has revived an
ancient tradition that the Phaedrus
was Plato’s first dialogue … Barnes thinks that even if Tomin’s views were not
“baloney”, there are no interesting consequences. Tomin believes that they
could change utterly philosophers’ understanding of Plato … He thinks Oxford
should “help itself” by recognizing that he is right. There is not the faintest
possibility that this will happen.’ (The
Independent Magazine, November 18, 1989)
***
In February
of this year I wrote to Mr Jirsa, the Director of the Institute for Philosophy
and Religious Studies at Charles University in Prague: ‘Thirty five years ago,
in April 1980 the Master of Balliol, Dr Anthony Kenny, gave a lecture on
Aristotle in my Philosophy seminar in Prague. To commemorate this anniversary,
I should like to present a lecture on ‘Plato’s Parmenides in the light of Aristotle’s testimony’ at the Institute.
My views on
this dialogue differ from the accepted views. I should therefore greatly
appreciate it if a specialist on Plato’s philosophy would chair the lecture and
open it with an explanation of the currently accepted views. The interpretation
of Plato’s philosophy in its entirety depends on the interpretation of this
dialogue; I hope that classical philosophers at Charles University will use the
occasion to vigorously defend the accepted views in discussion following the
lecture. My views on the dialogue are available to the public on my Blog, where
I devoted to it nine entries, beginning with the entry of October 16 2014 ‘A
note on the 3rd book of Aristotle’s Metaphysics’; so far the last is the entry of February 6, 2015
‘Aristotle’s response to Plato’s Parmenides
in Metaphysics M’. I hope you will
accept my proposal and I look forward to hearing from you soon.’
I received
no reply to my offer, and so I renewed it on October 11, on the occasion of the
35th anniversary of the letter that Professor Radovan Richta,
Director of the Institute for Philosophy and Sociology and Member of the
Presidium of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, wrote to Professor A.
Diemer, President of the International Federation of Philosophic Societies. In
the letter Richta wrote: ‘Tomin is a man who is worth nothing in philosophy …
It is self-evident that Mr Tomin would not find
the means to live for a single week if he were interesting merely for
what he did in philosophy … I think that the people who supported and visited
Mr Tomin will find themselves convinced, in a short time and on the basis of
their own experience, that there has been no case of suppression of freedom of
philosophers in the CSSR, but rather that it was a case of one person who
wanted to profit from the hopes of some circles to intensify the world crisis
and to poison efforts at international cooperation.’
I received
no reply to my offer. Let me note that I made similar offers on the same dates
to the Master of Balliol, Professor Drummond Bone, to which I received no
response.
***
in a book
published to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Velvet Revolution, Barbara
Day wrote: ‘it had become apparent that Julius would not find a job answering
his ambitions … his limited acquaintance with the breadth of western philosophy
would have been unacceptable in any of the posts for which he diligently
applied.’ (The Velvet Philosophers,
The Claridge Press, 1999, p. 67).
***
Whoever
decided that I must remain unemployed opened for me glorious years during which
I could devote myself fully to the study of the Ancient Greeks, informing my
Oxford colleagues regularly about my progress and challenging them to open
discussion on Ancient Philosophy. But I miss academic contacts, and I miss
students. So let me end my Velvet Blues with quotations from Barbara Day’s book
that hark to the days in which I could meet students: ’In February 1980 …
Steven Lukes [a don from Balliol] also made use of the re-emergence of The Times and published his description
of Tomin’s seminars: “The lectures take place in a crowded apartment, with Dr
Tomin translating, at times explosively interjecting his own comments, but
patiently and carefully pursuing the argument wherever it leads. Abstraction is
no barrier to rapt attention. One lecture on Kant, dealing with the most
difficult and intricate points, lasted five hours and the audience never
faltered. There is a constant sense of drama. Questions are insistent and
probing, and the answers matter. The lecturer is treated with respect but not
deference.’ (p. 50)
It did not
last: ‘During the same days Bill Newton-Smith, Fairfax Fellow in Philosophy at
Balliol College was preparing to leave for Prague … It was the 7th
March, and just before boarding the plane to Prague he bought the latest issue
of the New Statesman. It proclaimed
ind red on the front cover: “Inside Prague: Philosophy and the police state”;
inside was a four page article by Julius Tomin … He identified 1977 as the year
when the state, unable to handle the problem of Charter 77, handed over
authority to the security services. Most of the population remained happy to
function within the system of security. But the identifiable individuals who
made up Charter 77 had put themselves outside the security net. “One finds
oneself in the realm of inner freedom and then one faces the question of how to
live so that the free life would be worth the sacrifice. That is where
philosophy can help.” … Newton Smith set out to visit the Tomins. A few minutes
before he arrived Julius, Zdena [my wife] and Lukáš [my son] had been served with a
summons to appear at the central police station. Tomin believed the summons was
connected with the New Statesman
article. However, the present business was philosophy. Newton-Smith was not
disappointed: “I have never encountered someone with so much dedication to
philosophy that actual and impending problems of the magnitude facing him were
set aside. For the next five hours we had an intense, non-stop discussion of
the problems of perception and the nature of truth.” The next day they
continued the discussion. Tomin explained
to Newton-Smith the difference between Oxford students and those in
Prague, who needed to know why they were risking prison for the study of such a
thing as philosophy … The lecture (on “The Rationality of Science”) took place
in Ivan Dejmal’s flat, and started at 7.30 that evening: The eager,
concentrated attention of the dozen students created an intellectually exciting
atmosphere. Their excitement was infectious and I was looking forward to their
reactions.” Fifteen minutes into the session the door bell rang. Dejmal, who
normally monitored the arrivals, was engaged in transcribing the lecture;
another student ran to open the door to what he assumed to be a late arrival,
and rushed back in order not to miss a word of the lecture. Seven policemen,
some in uniform, some in plane clothes, burst in behind him. The uniformed
police took the names and details of the students, whilst the secret police
demanded that Newton-Smith accompany them. Tomin was ordered to translate their
orders to Newton-Smith, which he refused to do. As Newton-Smith was dragged
from the flat his last sight was of Tomin, hands bleeding from struggles with
the police taking up his lecture and reading from the point where they had been
interrupted.’ (pp. 51-52) [I don’t remember the bleeding. I remember taking
Bill firmly by hand; the police had to force my hand open so that they could
take him away.] I finished reading and translating Bill’s lecture. It was the
last complete lecture read in my philosophy seminar.
When Dr
Kenny, the Master of Balliol, was giving his lecture in my seminar on Saturday
12th April, his lecture was interrupted before he could properly
begin; Kenny and his wife were taken away, my students and I were taken to the
Central Police Station in Bartolomêjská street.
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