Never afraid to do the right thing

How many actors in current politics ask themselves what is actually right and wrong, then act and speak accordingly?

In January 1969, in the deep cold days of the communist dictatorship, Czech student Jan Palach set himself on fire to protest against the occupation of his country by the Soviet Army, and to shake up his compatriots from their fear and demoralisation. For a moment, thousands stopped fearing and attended Palach’s funeral, a risky anti-government act in a police state. In the years to come, most Czechs retreated back into the self-exile of their private lives. Not Havel. Each year on the anniversary of Palach’s self-immolation he tried to lay down flowers at the Wenceslas Square where Palach had made his self-sacrifice.

The secret police were always there to stop anybody who was prepared to take the risk. There were no media at the spot to capture the moment. Most of his compatriots considered Havel’s effort to be naive if not totally stupid. It was not rational, many argued, to provoke the repression of the powerful secret police for an act you knew would not succeed anyhow. We need to be smarter, they believed. Havel believed it was right to pay respect to the ultimate sacrifice of a young Czech student.

Another example: Havel was already the globally celebrated president of the post-communist Czechoslovakia – a kind of philosopher-king and rock star in the same person – but one of the first international policy acts he made was to invite the Dalai Lama to visit. Havel thus became the first head of state to officially receive the Tibetan leader at the seat of power. China was furious, and still is, but the precedent was set.   

Many years later, in January 2010, Havel was not president anymore. His health was not the best. It was the anniversary of the day when Havel and two dissident friends were detained by the police and put in jail for trying to deliver to the Czechoslovak parliament a human rights manifesto – Charter 77 – with 242 signatures on it. It was, as usual in January, a cold day. Ice was on the streets and one’s breath turned to vapour. His doctor was not in favour of Havel going outside, not an unreasonable thing to insist upon, given his weak health. But Havel has ignored the well-intended advice. With his two friends – actor Pavel Landovsky, who was hazardously balancing on the ice with his walking stick, and the Bishop of Prague, former fellow dissident Vaclav Maly – Havel visited the Chinese Embassy. They wanted to hand over a letter to President Hu Jintao and Prime Minister Wen Jiabao asking for the release of the writer and human rights defender Liu Xiaobo.

The gates of the embassy remained firmly shut. The Chinese ambassador refused to receive the former president of the Czech Republic and left three old men to stand for 20 minutes out in the cold. Finally, Havel had to post the letter in the embassy’s mailbox. In less than hour, a photo of Havel putting the letter in the box was spread all over China on Twitter. The message had reached the corridors of power in Beijing even while the gate of the embassy remained embarrassingly closed. A decent, humble man had again done what was right.   

Vaclav Havel died last Sunday morning in his sleep at the age of 75. He had laid down the moral torch he carried for so long. He was already old, weak and tired. He has left his human shell to meet the higher transcendent spirituality he was so longing for. Havel has gone to find his well-deserved peace, but his torch is still with us.

While reading so many sincere messages of praise for Havel on the occasion of his passing away, including from many heads of state and policy-makers, I ask myself will these people talk about Liu Xiaobo when they meet President Hu Jintao? Will they mention Liu’s wife Liu Xia, who has been kept incommunicado under house arrest for more than a year for the sole reason that her husband has been honoured with the Nobel Prize. Will they mention Min Ko Naing from Burma when they meet President Thein Sein to talk Asean matters and investment opportunities? Will they speak on their behalf because that is the right thing to do?

None of the Czech politicians met the Dalai Lama when he was in Prague a few weeks ago to meet his old friend Vaclav Havel and to give him a gift of a golden wheel, a symbol of spiritual change, protection and the ability to overcome obstacles.

 

Igor Blazevic is founder of the “One World” human rights film festival, organised under the auspices of the late President Vaclav Havel.