Czechoslovakia: Illusion and Counter Illusion

Many illusions went out the window with the Czech crisis, not the least of which is the so-called convergence theory. This argued that Soviet Communism was gradually but perceptibly moving in the direction of freedom while we were just as ineluctably heading for socialism. Somewhere mid-point between slavery and freedom both systems would “converge” and all the world would heave a cosmic sigh of relief that Utopia had been gained without firing a shot.

The convergence theory which arrived with Khrushchev’s thaw is especially popular in the Academy where mindless dons who profess such “ologies” as urbanology and sociology hold forth. It also has its coterie of partisans on the editorial pages of the New York Times. From these sources the politician-intellectual gets the message which he re-distills in deep and mumbling undertones to suit the taste and intelligence of his constituents who, he is convinced, couldn’t spell Czechoslovakia even if they could place it properly on the map. Naturally, it was these exponents of the convergence doctrine who were most surprised by the occupation of Czechoslovakia by the troops of the Warsaw Pact nations. Yet, it had been clear for a long time—from the time the Czechs made the first trembling noises about “liberalization” of the regime—that the Russians would not permit a contiguous satellite to enjoy more freedom than it was prepared to allot its own citizens. In fact, with the first words in Pravda placing the stigma of “counter-revolutionary” on those who talked about such bourgeois things as “free press,” “free radio,” “free speech,” etc., the death knell had sounded for Dubcek and his regime. And when he went dutifully to Bratislava to sign a compact with his masters, only the editors of the Times and its like-minded satellites represented by the noisier audio-visual media were taken in, reporting concessions, compromises and agreements which the next day’s realities brought into focus with the entry of Soviet, Polish, Bulgarian, Hungarian and East German troops on Czech soil. And, finally, when Dubcek went to Moscow in chains and came back alive it could only mean that he had decided to serve the Soviet father-land as his own Kadar.

MG

About the Author

Max Geltman

Many illusions went out the window with the Czech crisis, not the least of which is the so-called convergence theory. This argued that Soviet Communism was gradually but perceptibly moving in the direction of freedom while we were just as ineluctably heading for socialism. Somewhere mid-point between slavery and freedom both systems would “converge” and all the world would heave a cosmic sigh of relief that Utopia had been gained without firing a shot.

The convergence theory which arrived with Khrushchev’s thaw is especially popular in the Academy where mindless dons who profess such “ologies” as urbanology and sociology hold forth. It also has its coterie of partisans on the editorial pages of the New York Times. From these sources the politician-intellectual gets the message which he re-distills in deep and mumbling undertones to suit the taste and intelligence of his constituents who, he is convinced, couldn’t spell Czechoslovakia even if they could place it properly on the map. Naturally, it was these exponents of the convergence doctrine who were most surprised by the occupation of Czechoslovakia by the troops of the Warsaw Pact nations. Yet, it had been clear for a long time—from the time the Czechs made the first trembling noises about “liberalization” of the regime—that the Russians would not permit a contiguous satellite to enjoy more freedom than it was prepared to allot its own citizens. In fact, with the first words in Pravda placing the stigma of “counter-revolutionary” on those who talked about such bourgeois things as “free press,” “free radio,” “free speech,” etc., the death knell had sounded for Dubcek and his regime. And when he went dutifully to Bratislava to sign a compact with his masters, only the editors of the Times and its like-minded satellites represented by the noisier audio-visual media were taken in, reporting concessions, compromises and agreements which the next day’s realities brought into focus with the entry of Soviet, Polish, Bulgarian, Hungarian and East German troops on Czech soil. And, finally, when Dubcek went to Moscow in chains and came back alive it could only mean that he had decided to serve the Soviet father-land as his own Kadar.