Zradené testamenty S A M U E L A B R A H Á M

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Zradené testamenty milana Kunderu S A M U E L A B R A H Á M Veľa vecí v živote sa udeje náhodou. Často sa retrospektívne cítime v rozpakoch, že to, čo roky považujeme za prirodzenú súčasť našej existencie, sa stalo náhle, nečakane a všetko mohlo byť aj ináč. Je to vlastne paradox, ako sa veľké dejiny ľudstva a malá história našich osudov odvíjajú na tom pomyselnom, nezmyselnom či zmyselnom pódiu ľudských dejín. Človek sa bráni vedome či podvedome tomuto pochodu dejín, pretože retrospektívne sa svet zdá byť determinovaný, akoby mimo náš - ho vplyvu, bez našej voľby. Ľudská sloboda, ten vrchol ľudskej racionality, najvyššia méta modernej doby, tá viera, že sme subjekt, a nie objekt dejín, je vo večnom protiklade s hegelovským pochodom dejín, ktoré si píšu vlastný príbeh a my neurčujeme jeho chod. Milan Kundera bráni a vymedzuje ľudskú slobodu tým, že človek si vytvoril umenie ako obranu vlastnej slobody, kde len a len umelec je subjektom dejín umenia. Kundera píše: Historie umění je pomsta člověka proti neosobní historii lidstva. Preto som vybral práve knihu, z ktorej citujem túto vetu, avšak predtým opíšem svoj osobný-náhodný príbeh. Teda veľa vecí sa stane náhodou. Aj moje stretnutie s Kunderom. V roku 2000 sa strana neonacistu Jörga Haidera dostala do pravicovej vlády v Rakúsku. Krátko nato sa malo vo Viedni konať 17. stretnutie kultúrnych časopisov, organizované internetovým časopisom Eurozine.1 Ako člen správnej rady som sa podieľal na príprave konferencie a moji rakúski priatelia boli zdesení, že ich krajina, ktorá sa nikdy poriadne nevyrovnala so svojou nacistickou minulosťou, dala EU do vienka prvého neo - nacistu v novom miléniu. 2 Odmietli usporiadať stretnutie vo Viedni, a keďže bolo len pár týždňov pred začatím, požiadali ma, či by sa podujatie nemohlo presunúť do Bratislavy. Samozrejme, súhlasil som, a tak, hoci sa napokon kvôli sponzorom začiatok predsa len konal vo Viedni, 10. novembra 2000 sa dva autobusy plné vydavateľov a redaktorov presúvali päťdesiat kilometrov dolu po prúde Dunaja. 3 1 Kritika & Kontext sa stala súčasťou tohto zoskupenia od svojho vzniku v roku 1996. 2 Pamätám sa ako Walter Famler, šéfredaktor rakúskeho časopisu Wesspennest kričal: Rakúsko je fašistický štát! Dnes v Európe, kde prízrak fašizmu je opäť späť, mi jeho slová nepripadajú tak komicky ako v roku 2000 v krásnych priestoroch viedenského IWM. 1 3 0

Keď sme pripravovali program pre bratislavskú časť podujatia, padol návrh, aby sme pozvali Milana Kunderu, spisovateľa, ale aj autora slávnej eseje Tragédia strednej Európy, ktorá mala na Západe obrovský ohlas a rezonovala s témou aj lokalitou konferencie. 4 V tom čase som videl geniálnu adaptáciu Kunderovej hry Jakub a jeho pán v bratislavskom Štúdiu L + S v podaní Lasicu a Satinského. Dozvedel som sa, že Kundera takmer prišiel na premiéru a len choroba mu v tom na poslednú chvíľu zabránila. Hra bola v repertoári a Milan Lasica mi sľúbil, že ak mu oznámim dva týždne dopredu Kunderov príchod, radi mu to zahrajú. Kunderovi som poslal pozvanie, k listu som pridal svoju recenziu knihy Zradené testamenty, ale on na stretnutie napokon neprišiel. Odvtedy sme však ostali v kontakte, viackrát sme sa v Paríži stretli a trikrát som sa takmer stal vydavateľom jeho po francúzsky napísaných románov a zbierok esejí, ktoré v češtine nevyšli. To je však iná história, na inú príležitosť. Čo ma teda náhodne spojilo s Milanom Kunderom, môj list, recenzia, Jörg Haider? Boh vie. Ponúkam môj list, recenziu jeho knihy, jeho odpoveď a úryvok z jeho knihy Zradené testamenty. V Bratislave 12. septembra 2000 Vážený pán Kundera, Volám sa Samuel Abrahám a som vydavateľ časopisu knižných recenzií Kritika & Kontext. Obraciam sa na Vás, aby som Vás pozval na stretnutie vydavateľov a šéfredaktorov kultúrnych časopisov z celej Európy, ktoré sa bude konať v dňoch 9. 12. novembra tohto roku pod názvom Politika a kultúra v Európe: nové vízie, nové dezilúzie. Je to už štrnáste stretnutie od roku 1983, pričom od roku 1990 sa ho zúčastňujú aj vydavatelia zo strednej a východnej Európy. Uvedomujem si, že toto pozvanie je s dosť malým časovým predstihom, ale doteraz sme nemali zabezpečené financie a nevedeli sme, či sa bude celé podujatie konať. Do Bratislavy sme Vás vlastne chceli pozvať ešte v roku 1995 s, už bohužiaľ nebohou, Suzanne Roth 5, ktorá v tom čase zastupovala nadáciu Pro Helvetia na Slovensku. Chceli sme zorganizovať stretnutie a diskusiu medzi Vami a Jurajom Špitzerom. Pán Špitzer však náhle ochorel a následne zomrel a tak sme to smutní celé pustili z hlavy. Viem, že sa neradi zúčastňujete na konferenciách a seminároch. Naše podujatie, ako tých štrnásť doposiaľ, bude však neformálne, neakademické a je to skôr príležitosť na stretnutie spriaznených duší z celej Európy. Dôvodom, prečo tento rok budeme rozprávať o postavení kultúry v budúcej Európe, je jednoducho fakt, že sa nás a spoločností, v ktorých žijeme, táto téma bytostne dotýka. Miesta podujatia sú symbolické, 3 Nie všetci intelektuáli prešli cez našich ostražitých colníkov. Nepustili jedného Nemca, ktorý nemal pas, ale len doklad totožnosti. Správne (bývalí) súdruhovia. Hranica nie je korzo, ako na jeseň 1969 freneticky kričal v PKO arci-normalizátor Gustáv Husák. Zrútené PKO už nik nevráti, hraničné kontroly možno áno. 4 Pôvodný názov tejto eseje bol Unesená Európa. V roku 1983 vyšla v New York Review of Books ako Tragedy of Central Europe. Jej prijatie v Československu bolo rozpačité a niektorými sovietskymi disidentmi zatratené. 5 Susanne Roth preložila niekoľko Kunderových kníh do nemčiny. 1 31

prvá časť vo Viedni (9. 11.) a potom dva dni v Bratislave (10. 11. 11.) na rozhraní bývalých dvoch svetov, ktoré k sebe tak opatrne kráčajú. Účastníci stretnutia sú ľudia, ktorí sa snažia na malom priestore svojich časopisov zachovávať to, čo Európu duchovne definuje a integruje v protiváhe k tej nejasnej politickej, vojenskej a ekonomickej integrácii, ktorá sa deje mimo nás a spôsobom, ktorý nás často skľučuje. Vo Viedni bude mať prejav Slavenka Drakulič pod titulom Kto sa bojí Európy?. Boli by sme poctení, keby ste nás v Bratislave oslovili práve Vy a vyjadrili sa, ako vnímate stav Európy, v čom vidíte nádej a z čoho máte obavy. Pamätám sa na Váš článok o Rusku a Európe z osemdesiatych rokov, ktorý som ešte ako emigrant čítal v Kanade. Odvtedy sa veľa zmenilo, komunizmus našťastie padol, bohužiaľ medzičasom zaniklo aj Československo a my stojíme pred problémami spojenými s postkomunistickou transformáciou a európskou integráciou. Mnohé nádeje, ktoré poletovali v západnej a strednej Európe po roku 1989 sa rozplynuli, mnohé nás prekvapilo napríklad koľko spoločného máme s tými v západnej Európe, ktorí sa snažia zachovať kultúrne hodnoty vo svojich krajinách. Pre všetkých zahraničných hostí, ale najmä pre slovenskú kultúrnu obec by Váš príchod veľa znamenal. Verím, že aj Vy, a ak by nás poctila návštevou Vaša pani manželka, boli by ste bratislavskými premenami príjemne prekvapení. Bolo by nám cťou, keby ste prišli na celé stretnutie, no v prípade Vášho zaneprázdnenia by sme Vás radi uvítali aspoň v piatok 10. novembra v Bratislave. Ak by ste prišli, viem si predstaviť, že by sme prehovorili pána Milana Lasicu, aby predstavenie Jakuba fatalistu zahrali 10. alebo 11. novembra. (Počul som, že ste sa takmer zúčastnili na tej bratislavskej premiére.) Nemusím Vám zdôrazňovať, že tak ako mnoho Slovákov, som obdivovateľom Vášho diela a je mi len ľúto, že Pomalosť, Identita a Zradené testamenty nevyšli v slovenčine či v češtine. (Prikladám Vám moju recenziu Zradených testamentov.) S úctou Samuel Abrahám ZRADENÉ TESTAMENTY (recenzia, Národná obroda 30. januára 1998) Koniec storočia má veľa podôb: komunikácia prostredníctvom Internetu, zdevastovaná príroda, náboženský fundamentalizmus, postmoderna, klonovanie. Technika napreduje nesmiernym tempom, ale ako pochopiť dnešnú dobu v jej rozporuplnosti a rozpolenosti? Je to vôbec možné? Ako to často býva, prozaici alebo dramatici bez toho, aby sa o to snažili, sú často schopní prostredníctvom svojho umenia pomenovať podstatu toho, v čom sa tento svet nachádza, výstižnejšie než kopy sociologických či politologických elaborátorov. Ich schopnosť opísať vlastný osud má následok, že makrosvet začneme vnímať cez jasnejšiu prizmu. K takýmto autorom 1 3 2

patrí Milan Kundera a najmä jeho kniha Les Testaments trahis (1993, Zradené testamenty napísané po francúzsky). Je to doznanie výsostne kunderovské: bez toho, že by povedal čokoľvek o svojom súkromí, obnaží najosobnejšie myšlienky, obavy a vyznania o umení i o svete. Kniha sa skladá z niekoľkých esejí, nesúvisiacich len zdanlivo, no u Milana Kunde - ru sú to témy zásadne a prepojené. Kniha sa odvíja od nasledujúcej premisy: de - jiny ľudstva a dejiny románu sú dve veľmi rozdielne veci. O tom prvom človek nerozhoduje, naopak prevalcuje ho to ako nejaká nadpozemská sila, ktorú nie je schopný ovládať. Naproti tomu dejiny románu (maliarstva, hudby) sú plodom ľudskej slobody, osobný výtvor človeka, a podľa jeho vlastného výberu. Zmysel dejín umenia stojí v protiklade k zmyslu dejín samotných. Práve preto, že rozhodujúci je človek, dejiny umenia sú odplatou človeka za neosobnosť dejín človeka. Navonok oslava umenia, no Kunderov záber je širší. Práve hodnotením umenia dokáže vystihnúť všeobecný stav na konci 20. storočia. Umenie nám dodáva ľudský rozmer, teda schopnosť brániť sa veľkým dejinám. Kundera okrem iného píše o kríze, do ktorej sa dnes dostalo umenie románu, keď výrazná väčšina spisby je próza neprinášajúca nič nové, nemá estetickú hodnotu, nenadväzuje na štyridsaťročnú tradíciu európskeho románu a stáva sa konzumným artiklom. K brilantnému patrí brilantný štýl. Posúďte sami: Podľa mňa, veľké diela sa môžu zrodiť len v rámci histórie ich umenia a ako spolu - účastníci v tejto histórii. Jedine vo vnútri histórie môžeme vidieť, čo je nové a čo sa opakuje, čo je objav a čo imitácia; inými slovami, len vo vnútri histórie môže práca existovať ako hodnota schopná poznania a posúdenia. Nič sa nezdá horšie ako umenie, ktoré vypadne von mimo svojej vlastnej histórie, pretože je to pád do chaosu, kde nie je možné posúdiť estetickú hodnotu.. A Kundera pokračuje: Väčšina románov vydaných v súčasnosti stojí mimo histórie románu: sú to novelizované vyznania, novelizované novinárstvo, novelizované vyrovnanie si účtov, novelizované autobiografie, novelizované nechutnosti, novelizované zatratenia, novelizované politické argumenty, novelizovaná smrť manželov, novelizovaná smrť otcov, novelizovaná smrť matiek, novelizovaná strata panenstva, novelizované pôrody romány ad infinitum, na veky vekov, ktoré nepovedia nič nové, sú bez estetickej ambície, neprinesú nič čo by zmenilo naše chápanie človeka alebo štruktúry románu, sú jeden ako druhý, sú dôkladné stráviteľné ráno a dôkladne vypuditeľné poobede. Napokon píše aj o kríze, do ktorej sa dostala vážna hudba, výsledkom čoho je zovšadiaľ hučiaci beat, o médiach, ktoré tak ako povedzme ŠtB v komunistickom Československu odkrývajú pre Kunderu posvätné a ľudské súkromie. Keď napokon čítame napríklad o Stravinskom a Gombrowiczovi, o vplyve emigrácie na ich dielo a o ich vzťahu k rodnej krajine, začíname chápať, prečo Kundera píše po francúzsky, a prečo sa na svoju Moravu nevracia. S AMUEL ABRAHÁM 1 3 3

odpoveď Milana Kunderu Ako svoj výber ponúkam krátku časť z knihy esejí Zradené testamenty. Čítam ju ako mnohí z nás čítajú Haškovho Švejka: raz začas po nej siahnem, náhodné otvorím, prečítam niekoľko odstavcov, pookrejem a opäť odložím. Milan Kundera mi rád povolil preklad tohto môjho výberu. Len ma požiadal, aby som mu poslal jednu preloženú stranu (nie celý preklad), aby si po slovensky prečítal svoj po francúzsky napísaný text, ktorý v češtine nevyšiel. Výber je z ôsmej časti Cesta v hmle: 1 3 4

TÍ, ČO NEMAJÚ POCIT VINY, TANCUJÚ M i l a n K u n d e r a S A M U E L A B R A H Á M / M i l a n K u n d e r a Hudba, nazývaná (zvyčajne a nejasne) rock, zaplavuje už dvadsať rokov zvukové prostredie každodenného života; ovládla svet vo chvíli, keď 20. storočie v zlobe dusilo svoje dejiny; nedá mi neopýtať sa, či ide len náhodnú zhodu okolností. Alebo sa v tomto strete konečného procesu storočia a rockovej extázy ukrýva nejaký význam? Snaží sa storočie v extatickom kriku zabudnúť samo na seba? Zabudnúť na svoje utópie, ktoré sa prepadli do hrôzy? Zabudnúť na svoje umenie? Umenie, ktoré svojou jemnosťou, márnou komplexnosťou vyrušuje ľud, uráža svätú Demokraciu? Slovo rock je nejednoznačné; preto radšej hudbu, ktorú mám na mysli, opíšem: ľudské hlasy prehlušujú nástroje, vysoké hlasy prevládajú nad nízkymi; dynamika nepozná kontrast a drží sa v neustálom fortissime, ktoré mení spev na zavýjanie; rytmus rovnako ako v jazze zdôrazňuje druhú dobu taktu, ale stereotypnejším a hlučnejším spôsobom; harmónia a melódia sú zjednodušené, a tak zvýrazňujú farbu tónov, čo je jediným invenčným prvkom tejto hudby; zatiaľ čo ľudové piesne prvej polovice storočia mali melódie, ktoré rozplakali úbohý ľud (a nadchýnali Mahlerovu a Stravinského hudobnú iróniu), táto takzvaná rocková hudba je zbavená hriechu sentimentality; nie je sentimentálna, je extatická, je predĺžením jedinej extatickej chvíle; a vzhľadom na to, že extáza je chvíľou vytrhnutou z času krátkou chvíľou bez pamäti, chvíľou obklopenou zabudnutím melodický motív nemá priestor, v ktorom by sa vyvinul, dokáže sa len opakovať bez rozvíjania alebo záveru (rock je jedinou ľahkou hudbou, v ktorej nie je ťažiskovou melódia; ľudia si rockové melódie nepospevujú). Jedna zvláštnosť: vďaka technológii zvukového záznamu sa táto hudba extázy ozýva neprestajne a odvšadiaľ, teda aj mimo extatických situácií. Akustický obraz extázy sa stal každodennou kulisou našej malátnosti. Nevyzýva nás k orgiám, k mystickým zážitkom, tak čo sa nám trivializovaná extáza snaží povedať? Aby sme ju prijali. Aby sme si na ňu zvykli. Aby sme rešpektovali jej privilegované miesto. Aby sme dodržiavali morálku, čo hlása. Morálka extázy je v protiklade s morálkou procesu; pod jej záštitou si každý robí, čo chce: už teraz si môžu všetci cmúľať palec, ako chcú, od detstva až po promóciu, a ide o slobodu, ktorej sa nikto nebude ochotný vzdať; poobzerajte sa okolo seba v metre; sediaci či stojaci, každý jeden s prstom v niektorom otvore na tvári v uchu, v ústach, v nose; nikto nemá pocit, že ho pozorujú a všetci snívajú o tom, že napíšu knihu, aby rozpovedali príbeh svojho jedinečného a nenapodobiteľného ja, ktoré sa vŕta v nose; nikto nikoho iného nepočúva, každý píše a všetci píšu tak, ako sa tancuje rock: osamote, pre seba, pohltení sebou, ale zároveň opakujúc tie isté pohyby, čo ostatní. V tejto situácii uniformného egocentrizmu už pocit viny nezohráva tú istú úlohu ako v minulosti; súdy stále fungujú, ale fascinuje ich výlučne minulosť; vidia len jadro storočia; vnímajú len staré alebo mŕtve generácie. V Kafkových postavách vzbudila pocit viny otcovská autorita; hrdina Ortieľa sa utopí v rieke, pretože ho potupil jeho otec; ten čas je preč: vo svete rocku nesie otec také bremeno viny, že všetko dovolí. Tí, čo nemajú pocit viny, tancujú. Nedávno dvaja adolescenti zavraždili kňaza; v televízii som počul komentár iného kňaza, ktorému sa triasol hlas pochopením: Musíme sa modliť za kňaza, ktorý sa stal 1 3 5

obeťou svojho poslania: osobitne sa venoval mládeži. Ale tiež sa musíme modliť za tých dvoch nešťastných adolescentov; aj oni sa stali obeťami: svojich pudov. Zatiaľ čo sloboda myslenia sloboda slov, postojov, žartov, úvah, nebezpečných myš lienok, intelektuálnych podnetov sa zužuje pod ostražitým dohľadom súdu vše - obecného konformizmu, sloboda pudov narastá. Za hriechy myslenia sa kážu prísne tresty; za zločiny spáchané v emocionálnej extáze sa prikazuje omilostenie. CESTY V HMLE Súčasníci Roberta Musila obdivovali oveľa viac jeho inteligenciu ako knihy; tvrdili, že mal písať eseje, nie romány. Negatívny dôkaz ľahko vyvráti tento názor: prečítajte si Musilove eseje; sú tak ťažké, nudné a nepôvabné! Totiž Musil je veľkým mysliteľom len vo svojich románoch. Jeho myšlienky sa musia živiť konkrétnymi situáciami a konkrétnymi postavami; skratka, ide o románové myslenie, nie filozofické. Každá prvá kapitola z osemnástich častí Fieldingovho Toma Jonesa je krátka esej. Jeho prvý prekladateľ do francúzštiny v 18. storočí ich všetky jednoducho vynechal, pričom tvrdil, že nezodpovedajú francúzskemu vkusu. Turgenev vyčítal Tolstému esejistické pasáže o filozofii dejín vo Vojne a mieri. Tolstoj začal o sebe pochybovať a pod tlakom rád tieto pasáže z tretieho vydania románu vypustil. Našťastie ich neskôr znovu pridal. Románové úvahy existujú rovnako ako románové dialógy a dej. Dlhé úvahy vo Vojne a mieri sú mimo románu napríklad vo vedeckom časopise nemysliteľné. Pretože sú napísané jazykom, s množstvom zámerne naivných prirovnaní a metafor. Ale predovšetkým preto, lebo Tolstého dejiny nezaujímajú ako historika, nejde mu o presný opis udalostí, ich následky pre spoločenský, politický a kultúrny život, o hodnotenie úlohy tej či onej osoby; dejiny ho zaujímajú ako nový rozmer ľudskej existencie. Konkrétnou skúsenosťou všetkých ľudí sa stali dejiny začiatkom 19. storočia počas napoleonských vojen, o ktorých hovorí Vojna a mier; tieto vojny každému Európanovi šokom sprostredkovali skutočnosť, že svet okolo sa neustále mení a táto zmena mu zasahuje do života, transformuje ho a udržiava v pohybe. Do 19. storočia sa vojny a vzbury považovali za prírodné katastrofy ako morové epidémie či zemetrasenia. Ľudia nevnímali ani jednotu, ani kontinuitu historických udalostí a neverili, že je možné ovplyvniť ich priebeh. Diderotov Jakub fatalista vstúpi do armády a potom je v bitke vážne zranený; poznačený na celý život, bude krívať až do konca svojich dní. Ale aká to bola bitva, ktorá je pre Jakuba taká významná? V románe sa to neuvádza. A prečo by sa aj malo? Všetky vojny boli rovnaké. V románoch z 18. storočia sa historické momenty spomínajú len veľmi približne. Až od 19. storočia sa so Scottom a s Balzacom prestali všetky vojny podobať jedna na druhú a postavy v románoch žijú v presne datovaných obdobiach. Tolstoj sa k napoleonským vojnám vracia z odstupu päťdesiatich rokov. V jeho prípade nové vnímanie dejín ovplyvňuje nielen štruktúru románu, ktorá bola schopná čoraz lepšie zachytiť (v dialógoch, opisoch) historickú povahu rozprávaných udalostí; ale v prvom rade ho zaujíma vzťah človeka k histórii (jeho schopnosť riadiť ju alebo jej uniknúť, byť vo vzťahu k nej slobodný alebo nie) a k tomuto problému pristupuje priamo, je témou jeho románu, témou, ktorú skúma všetkými prostriedkami vrátane románového myslenia. Tolstoj polemizuje s myšlienkou, že dejiny vytvára vôľa a rozum veľkých osobností. Podľa neho sa dejiny tvoria samy dodržiavajúc vlastné zákony, ktoré človek nepozná. 1 3 6

Veľké osobnosti boli nevedomými nástrojmi dejín, tvorili dielo, ktorého zmysel nepo - znali. Neskôr: Prozreteľnosť nútila všetkých týchto ľudí, ktorí sa snažili dosiahnuť svoje ciele, aby spolupracovali na jedinečnom a veľkolepom výsledku, o ktorom žiadny z nich, či už Napoleon alebo Alexander, nemal ani potuchy. A ešte: Človek žije vedome sám pre seba, ale ne vedome je nástrojom na dosiahnutie historických a vše - obecných cieľov celého ľudstva. A z toho vyplýva tento veľkolepý záver: Dejiny sú teda nevedomý, všeobecný, stádovitý život ľudstva... (Kľúčové formulácie zvýrazňujem ja.) S touto koncepciou dejín Tolstoj načrtáva metafyzický priestor, v ktorom sa pohybujú jeho postavy. Nepoznajú ani význam dejín, ani budúcnosť, nepoznajú dokonca ani objektívny zmysel vlastných skutkov (ktorými sa nevedome podieľajú na udalostiach, o ktorých nemajú ani potuchy ), svojimi životmi kráčajú ako keď niekto kráča v hmle. Hovorím v hmle, nie v tme. V tme nič nevidíme, sme slepí, vydaní napospas, nie sme slobodní. V hmle sme slobodní, ale je to sloboda človeka v hmle: vidí päťdesiat metrov pred seba, rozoznáva črty svojho spoločníka, môže sa kochať v kráse stromov rastúcich pri ceste a dokonca môže pozorovať, čo sa deje v jeho blízkosti a reagovať. Človek kráča hmlou. Ale keď sa obzrie, aby súdil ľudí minulosti, v ich ceste hmlu nevidí. Z jeho prítomnosti, ktorá bola ich vzdialenou budúcnosťou, vyzerajú ich cesty dokonale jasné s čistou viditeľnosťou od začiatku do konca. Keď sa obzrie, vidí cestu, vidí ľudí, čo po nej kráčajú, vidí ich chyby, ale nie hmlu. A predsa všetci Heidegger, Majakovskij, Aragon, Ezra Pound, Gorkij, Gottfried Benn, Saint-John Perse, Giono všetci kráčali v hmle a vtedy sa možno opýtať: kto je viac slepý? Majakovskij, ktorý píšuc báseň o Leninovi netušil, kam bude smerovať leninizmus? Alebo my, čo ho súdime z odstupu desaťročí a nevidíme hmlu, ktorá ho obklopovala? Majakovského slepota je súčasťou večného ľudského údelu. Nevidieť hmlu na Majakovského ceste znamená zabudnúť, čo je človek, zabudnúť, čím sme my sami. z francúzskeho originálu preložila Aňa Ostrihoňová 1 3 7

testaments Betrayed By milan Kundera S a m u e l A b r a h á m many things in life happen by accident. Often, looking back, we feel almost embarrassed that what for years we considered to be a natural part of our existence in fact happened suddenly, unexpectedly and that everything could have been otherwise. in fact, it is a paradox how the big history of mankind and small history of the fates of us individuals unfold on this imaginary, meaningful or meaningless stage of human history. Human beings resist, consciously or subconsciously, this march of history because, in retrospect, the world seems predetermined, as if it were outside our will or influence, beyond our choice. Human freedom, the pinnacle of human rationality, the ultimate goal of modernity, the belief that we are the subject and not the object of history, is in everlasting contradiction with the Hegelian march of history that writes a story over which we have no influence. milan Kundera defends and marks down human freedom by claiming that humans created art as a defense of their own freedom, where an artist alone is the subject of the history of art. in testaments Betrayed Kundera writes: the history of art is a revenge by man against the impersonality of the history of humanity. 1 this is the reason i chose this particular book, from which i quote this sentence and an excerpt from Chapter 8 as my selection for this issue. However, i will first retell my personal story about the circumstances related to this book. so, many things happen by accident. my meeting with milan Kundera was also by chance. in 2000, a neo-nazi party of Jörg Haider became part of the government of austria. at the same time, there was planned in Vienna the 14 th Meeting of European Cultural Journals, organized by those who were a few years later to create the internet journal Eurozine. 2 as a member of the Board, i was participating in the preparation of the conference and my austrian friends were shocked that their country, which 1 Milan Kundera: Testaments Betrayed (1995, Faber, New York, p. 16), translated from French by Linda Asher. 2 Kritika & Kontext became a member of the European publishers circle from the journal s inception in 1996. 1 3 8

had never come to terms with its nazi past, was providing the expanding eu with neonazis in power at the beginning of the new millennium. 3 ey refused to organize the meeting in Vienna and, considering that it was only a few weeks before the event, they asked me whether we could hold it in Bratislava. Of course, i agreed and, although because of the sponsors the meeting actually began in Vienna, on november 10, 2000, two full buses of publishers and editors moved fifty kilometers down the danube. 4 When we were preparing the agenda for the Bratislava part of the conference, someone suggested that we should invite the writer milan Kundera, author of the famous essay the tragedy of Central europe that resonated so strongly among Western intellectuals. 5 around that time i attended in Bratislava a brilliant adaptation of Kundera s play Jacques and His Master in studio l + s by the great actors milan lasica and Julius satinský. i learned that Kundera almost attended the opening night in 1993 and only sickness at that time prevented his visit. the play was still in the studio s repertoire in 2000, and milan lasica told me that they would just need two weeks notice if Kundera were to come and they would gladly play it for him. i sent an invitation to the conference to Kundera, and enclosed with it my review of his book testaments Betrayed but, in the end, Kundera did not come. since then, however, i have stayed in touch with him, visited him and his wife Vera, and almost three times i became the publisher into slovak of his seven books written in French that was never translated into Czech. that odyssey of unsuccessful publishing is for a different story but what connected me accidentally with Kundera, the letter, the review of his book, Jörg Haider? One would never know. Here i offer the translation of my letter, the review of his book, his answer and then the excerpt from testaments Betrayed. From my letter to Kundera on september 12, 2000 Dear Mr. Kundera, I am writing to you because I want to invite you to a meeting of publishers and editors of cultural journals from around Europe which will take place on November 9-12 this year under the title Politics and Culture: New Visions, New Disillusions. It is the 14 th meeting since 1983. Since 1990 this annual event has been attended by participants from Central and Eastern Europe I wanted to invite you back in 1995, together with Susanne Roth, now deceased, who at that time ran the Pro Helvetia Foundation in Slovakia. 6 We wished to organized 3 I recall Walter Famler, the editor-in-chief of the Austrian journal Wesspennest, shouting in despair: Austria is a fascist state! Today, when the specter of fascism is back again, his words seem to me less funny than they did in 2000, in the beautiful halls of Vienna s IWM. 4 Not all the intellectuals managed to pass our vigilant customs officers. They did not let in one German editor who did not have a passport but only an ID. Well done (our former) comrades! The border is not a walking zone, raged the future communist leader Gustav Husák in Bratislava in the fall of 1969. The building where he shouted at his stunned audience is gone now; border controls might yet return... 5 The original title of this essay was Kidnapped Europe. It was published in New York Review of Books as The Tragedy of Central Europe in April 1984. In Czechoslovakia, some Czech and Slovak dissidents criticized the essay and a few Russians dissidents raged over one of the essay s remarks in the context of the essay a small point that Russia does not belong to Europe. 6 Susanne Roth translated several of Kundera s books into German. 1 3 9

a debate between you and Juraj Špitzer. 7 However, Mr. Špitzer suddenly fell ill and passed away. Shocked and saddened, we dropped the whole idea. I am aware that you do not like to participate in conferences and seminars. However, our event, like the 13 before it, would be rather informal and non-academic, and is more an opportunity to meet kindred spirits from around Europe. The reason why we would discuss the status of culture in the future Europe is that this topic is very relevant for us and for the societies we live in. The locations for the event are significant: the first part will take place in Vienna and then, for two days, in Bratislava, hence at the border of what were formerly two worlds but are now tiptoeing towards each other very carefully. The participants are people who try, within the small space allowed by their journals, to preserve what spiritually defines and integrates Europe in contrast to that unclear political, military and economic integration that is taking place as if passing us by, in ways that often baffle us. In Vienna, the keynote speech will be given by Slavenka Drakulič under the title Who s Afraid of Europe?. We would be honored if, in Bratislava, you would address us and convey how you sense developments in Europe, where you see hope, and what keeps you in despair. I remember your article about Russia and Europe in the 1980s, which I eagerly read as an émigré in Canada. Since then much has changed: the communist regimes have fortunately collapsed, sadly Czechoslovakia has fallen apart, and we face the problems connected to post-communist transformation and, ahead, European integration. Many of the hopes that sparkled in Western and Central Europe after 1989 have dissipated, and much has surprised us for example how much in common we have with those in Western Europe who try to preserve cultural heritage and values in their respective countries.... It would be a great honor for us if you could attend the whole event but, in the case you are busy, we would gladly welcome you at least on Friday, November 10 in Bratislava. If you were to come, I can imagine I could persuade Milan Lasica to put on a performance of your Jaques and His Master. (I was told that you almost came to the opening night.) I don t have to emphasize that, along with many Slovaks, I admire your works and it is a pity that Slowness, Identity and Testaments Betrayed have not been published in Slovak or Czech. (I enclose my review of your Testaments Betrayed.) Yours sincerely, Samuel Abrahám 7 Juraj Špitzer, among many things, organized the famous Czechoslovak Writers Congress in 1967 where Kundera read his famous speech; the whole event had a great effect on the political developments in 1968. 1 4 0

TESTAMENTS BETRAYED (book review, Národná obroda January 30, 1998) S A M U E L A B R A H Á M / M i l a n K u n d e r a The end of the century has many faces: communication via the internet, a devastated natural environment, religious fundamentalism, postmodernism, cloning. Technology advances with great speed, but how to understand the current era in its contradiction and divisiveness? As often happens, novelists and dramatists, without much effort to achieve it, are able, through their art, to express the essence of where our world is and is heading, oftentimes much more succinctly than piles of sociological or political-scientific tracts. Their ability to describe their own fate can result in us perceiving the global picture through a crystal-clear prism. One such author is Milan Kundera and, in particular, his book Les Testaments trahir (1993, Testaments Betrayed written in French). It is a confession in a truly Kunderian way: without any trace of saying a word about his private life, he exposes his most intimate feelings, worries and revelations about art and the world. The book comprises several chapters, seemingly unrelated. However, with Milan Kundera these themes are crucial and interconnected. The book stems from the following premise: the history of humanity and the history of the novel are two very different things. The former is not man s to determine, it takes over like an alien force he cannot control, whereas the history of the novel (or of painting, of music) is born of man s freedom, of his wholly personal creations, of his own choices. The meaning of an art s history is opposed to the meaning of history itself. Because of its personal nature, the history of an art is a revenge by man against the impersonality of the his - tory of humanity. It is seemingly a celebration of art, but Kundera s scope is wider. In particular, by assessing and devising the status of art, he succeeds in depicting the general condition at the end of 20 th century. Art provides us with a human dimension, and hence a way to defend ourselves against impersonal human history. Kundera, among other things, writes about the crisis in which the art of the novel finds itself today, where the majority of writing is prose that adds nothing new, lacks aesthetic value, does not reconnect with the 400-year-old tradition of the European novel, and becomes just another consumer item. With brilliance comes brilliant style. Consider for yourself: To my mind, great works can only be born within the history of their art and asparticipants in that history. It is only inside history that we can see what is new and what is repetitive, what is discovery and what is imitation; in other words, only inside history can a work exist as avalue capable of being discerned and judged. Nothing seems to me worse for art than to fall outside its own history, for it is a fall into the chaos where aesthetic values can no longer be perceived. And Kundera continues: most novels produced today stand outside the history of the novel: novelized confessions, novelized journalism, novelized score-settling, novelized autobiographies, novelized indiscretions, novelized denunciations, novelized political arguments, novelized deaths of hus bands, novelized deaths of fathers, novelized deaths of mothers, novelized deflowerings, novelized child-births novels ad infinitum, to the 1 41

end of time, that say nothing new, have no aesthetic ambition, bring no change to our understanding of man or to novelistic form, are each one like the next, are completely consumable in the morning and completely discardable in the afternoon. He also writes about the crisis in which classical music found itself, the result of which is cacophony beaming from all direction; about the media that like, for example, the Secret Police during Communist Czechoslovakia intrudes into what, for Kundera, is the most sacred thing: human privacy. At the end, when we read, for example, about Stravinsky or Gombrowicz and about the influence of emigration on their work and their relationship towards the country where they were born, we start to appreciate why Kundera writes in French and why he is not returning to his native Moravia. To Samuel Abrahám From Kundera. Dear Mr. Abrahám, You pleased me very much with your fax and the newspaper clipping in which you write so smart about my book. Truly smart: you cited the most important thing: the difference between history and the history of art; and you stressed what I perceive to be so dangerous: the general and systematic attack on human privacy. I did not realize that you wanted to invite me for a discussion with Juraj Špitzer! Most likely, I would not have wished to have a debate, but how happy I would have been to see Juraj Špitzer one more time! Thank you also for your invitation to your meeting. As you rightly alluded, I try to avoid these kinds of events and, as the time is getting shorter, I try to avoid them more and more. But I promise you that if I ever get to Slovakia, I will let you know so we could meet. And if on that occasion I could see Jacques in Lasica s and Satinsky s rendition that would truly be a great joy! Thank you so much that you thought of me, and I send you my best regards, Milan Kundera as a selection for this issue i offer a short segment from the book of essays testaments Betrayed. milan Kundera was glad to allow me to use the translation. he only asked me to send him a page of translated text (not the whole translation) so he could, as he wrote, read in slovak the text he originally wrote in French but was never published in czech. the selection is from the Part eight Path in Fog (translated into english by linda asher): 1 4 2

THOSE WITH NO SENSE OF GUILT ARE DANCING M i l a n K u n d e r a S A M U E L A B R A H Á M / M i l a n K u n d e r a The music (commonly and vaguely) called rock has been inundating the sonic environment of daily life for twenty years; it seized possession of the world at the very moment when the twentieth century was disgustedly vomiting up its history; a question haunts me: was this coincidence mere chance? Or is there some hidden meaning to the conjunction of the century s final trials and the ecstasy of rock? Is the century hoping to forget itself in this ecstatic howling? To forget its utopias foundering in horror? To forget its art? An art whose subtlety, whose needless complexity, irritates the populace, offends against democracy? The word rock is vague; therefore, I would rather describe the music I mean: human voices prevail over instruments, high-pitched voices over low ones; there is no contrast to the dynamics, which keep to a perpetual fortissimo that turns the singing into howling; as in jazz, the rhythm accentuates the second beat of the measure, but in a more stereotyped and noisier manner; the harmony and the melody are simplistic and thus they bring out the tone color, the only inventive element of this music; while the popular songs of the first half of the century had melodies that made poor folk cry (and delighted Mahler s and Stravinsky s musical irony), this so-called rock music is exempt from the sin of sentimentality; it is not sentimental, it is ecstatic, it is the prolongation of a single moment of ecstasy; and since ecstasy is a moment wrenched out of time a brief moment without memory, a moment surrounded by forgetting the melodic motif has no room to develop, it only repeats, without evolving or concluding (rock is the only light music in which melody is not predominant; people don t hum rock melodies). A curious thing: thanks to the technology of sound reproduction, this ecstatic music resounds incessantly and everywhere, and thus outside ecstatic situations. The acoustic image of ecstasy has become the everyday decor of our lassitude. It is inviting us to no orgy, to no mystical experience, so what does this trivialized ecstasy mean to tell us? That we should accept it. That we should get used to it. That we should respect its privileged position. That we should observe the ethic it decrees. The ethic of ecstasy is the opposite of the trial s ethic; under its protection everybody does whatever he wants: now anyone can suck his thumb as he likes, from infancy to graduation, and it is a freedom no one will be willing to give up; look around you on the Metro; seated or standing, every single person has a finger in some orifice of his face in the ear, in the mouth, in the nose; no one feels he s being observed, and everyone dreams of writing a book to tell about his unique and inimitable self, which is picking its nose; no one listens to anyone else, everyone writes, and each of them writes the way rock is danced to: alone, for himself, focused on himself yet making the same motions as all the others. In this situation of uniform egocentricity; the sense of guilt does not play the role it once did; the tribunals still operate, but they are fascinated exclusively by the past; they see only the core of the century; they see only the generations that are old or dead. Kafka s characters were made to feel guilty 1 4 3

by the authority of the father; it is because his father disgraces him that the hero of The Judgment drowns himself in a river; that time is past: in the world of rock, the father has been charged with such a load of guilt that, for a long time now, he allows everything. Those with no guilt feelings are dancing. Recently, two adolescents murdered a priest: on television I heard another priest talking, his voice trembling with understanding: We must pray for the priest who was a victim of his mission: he was especially concerned with young people. But we must also pray for the two unfortunate adolescents; they too were victims: of their drives. While freedom of thought freedom of words, of attitudes, of jokes, of reflection, of dangerous ideas, of intellectual provocations shrinks, under surveillance as it is by the vigilance of the tribunal of general conformism, the freedom of drives grows ever greater. They are preaching severity against sins of thought; they are preaching forgiveness for crimes committed in emotional ecstasy. PATHS IN THE FOG Robert Musil s contemporaries admired his intelligence much more than his books; they said he should have written essays, not novels. A negative proof suffices to refute this opinion: read Musil s essays: how heavy they are, boring and charmless! For Musil is a great thinker only in his novels. His thought needs to feed on concrete situations and concrete characters; in short, it is novelistic thought, not philosophic. Each first chapter of the eighteen books of Fielding s Tom Jones is a brief essay. Its first French translator, in the eighteenth century, purely and simply eliminated all of them, claiming that they were not to the French taste. Turgenev reproached Tolstoy for the essayistic passages in War and Peace dealing with the philosophy of history. Tolstoy began to doubt himself and, under pressure of advisers, eliminated those passages in the third edition of the novel. Fortunately, he later restored them. Just as there are novelistic dialogue and action, there is also novelistic reflection. The lengthy reflections of War and Peace are inconceivable outside of the novel for instance, in a scholarly journal. Because of their language, certainly, which is filled with intentionally naive similes and metaphors. But above all because Tolstoy talking about history is not interested, as a historian would be, in the exact account of events and of their consequences for social, political, and cultural life, in the evaluation of this or that person s role, and so on; he is interested in history as a new dimension of human existence. History became a concrete experience for everyone toward the start of the nineteenth century, during the Napoleonic Wars that figure in War and Peace., with a shock, these wars made clear to every European that the world around him was subject to perpetual change that interferes with his life, transforming it and keeping it in motion. Before the nineteenth century, wars and rebellions were felt to be natural catastrophes, like the plague or an earthquake. People saw neither unity nor continuity in historical events, and did not believe it possible to influence their course. Diderot s Jacques the Fatalist joins a regiment and then is seriously wounded in battle; marked for life, he will limp for the rest of his days. But what battle was it? The novel doesn t say. And why should it say? All wars were the same. In eighteenth-century novels the historical moment is specified only very approximately. Only after the start of the nineteenth century, from Scott and Balzac on, do all wars no longer seem the same and characters in novels live in precisely dated times. 1 4 4

Tolstoy looks back on the Napoleonic Wars from a distance of fifty years. In his case, the new perception of history not only affects the structure of the novel, which has become more and more capable of capturing (in dialogue, in description) the historical nature of narrated events; but what interests him primarily is man s relation to history (his ability to dominate it or to escape it, to be free or not in regard to it), and he takes up the problem directly, as the very theme of his novel, a theme he explores by every means, including novelistic reflection. Tolstoy argues against the idea that history is made by the will and reason of great individuals. History makes itself, he says, obeying laws of its own, which remain obscure to man. Great individuals all were the involuntary tools of history, carrying on a work that was concealed from them. Later on: Providence compelled all these men, each striving to attain personal aims, to combine in the accomplishment of a single stupendous result not one of them (neither Napoleon nor Alexander and still less anyone who did the actual fighting) in the least expected. And again: Man lives consciously for himself, but is unconsciously a tool in the attainment of the historic, general aims of mankind. From which comes this tremendous conclusion: History, that is, the unconscious, general herd-life of mankind... (I emphasize the key phrases.) With this conception of history, Tolstoy lays out the metaphysical space in which his characters move. Knowing neither the meaning nor the future course of history, knowing not even the objective meaning of their own actions (by which they involuntarily participate in events whose meaning is concealed from them ), they proceed through their lives as one proceeds in the fog. I say fog, not darkness. In the darkness, we see nothing, we are blind, we are defenseless, we are not free. In the fog, we are free, but it is the freedom of a person in fog: he sees fifty yards ahead of him, he can clearly make out the features of his interlocutor, can take pleasure in the beauty of the trees that line the path, and can even observe what is happening close by and react. Man proceeds in the fog. But when he looks back to judge people of the past, he sees no fog on their path. From his present, which was their faraway future, their path looks perfectly clear to him, good visibility all the way. Looking back, he sees the path, he sees the people proceeding, he sees their mistakes, but not the fog. And yet all of them Heidegger, Mayakovsky, Aragon, Ezra Pound, Corky, Gottfried Benn, St.-John Perse, Giono all were walking in fog, and one might wonder: who is more blind? Mayakovsky, who as he wrote his poem on Lenin did not know where Leninism would lead? Or we, who judge him decades later and do not see the fog that enveloped him? Mayakovsky s blindness is part of the eternal human condition. But for us not to see the fog on Mayakovsky s path is to forget what man is, forget what we ourselves are. 1 4 5