The Rewards of Conviction

Ten years ago, playwright Vaclav Havel, then a prisoner of conscience in a Czechoslovak jail, wrote in a letter to his wife, Olga, “There are times when an artist must put his art aside in order to do something positive in life, something modest that may not earn him a place in history, but which is the expression of a moral imperative or simply a love for people.”

Friday, Vaclav Havel, the gentle but unwavering leader of his country’s remarkable “velvet revolution,” strode up the red-carpeted aisle of the Hradcany Castle hall and signed the oath of office as his country’s new president. At his side was the newly elected speaker of the Czechoslovak Parliament, Alexander Dubcek, in the warmth of whose Prague Spring 20 dark years ago were sown the seeds of glasnost, perestroika and so much else that has happened in this dizzying year.

It was Dubcek, brought out of officially imposed obscurity by Havel’s Civic Forum, who first had the courage to demand that socialism put on a “human face.” In all the long, bleak years that followed the Soviets’ vain attempt to reimpose the iron mask of Stalinism, Havel and other Czechs and Slovaks of independent conscience held to that demand.

Dubcek acknowledged their steadfastness Thursday, following his own unanimous election. “This,” he said, “is a moral satisfaction to the hundreds of thousands of people who have upheld the ideals of political pluralism and individual freedom.” Dubcek’s election, like that of Havel, was arranged in negotiations between the Civic Forum and the Communist Party, which still dominates the Parliament. Both men said that they would remain in office only until legitimate elections can be held in the spring.

“I will not disappoint you, but will lead this country to free elections,” Havel told his supporters Friday. “This must happen in a decent and peaceful way so that the clean face of our revolution is not sullied. It is a task for us all . . . . I envision a modern, contemporary system, which will return to people their honor and freedom.”

Havel--who once told his countrymen, “Politics really should be ethics put into practice”--then walked with his wife across the castle square to a special Mass of thanksgiving in the St. Vitus Cathedral. As they passed, guards held aloft the presidential banner emblazoned with the two-word motto the playwright borrowed from Tomas Masaryk, the philosopher statesman who guided Czechoslovakia to independence after the First World War.

“Truth Prevails,” it said.