The challenge, suggests Tim Beasley-Murray, is to make the death of Václav Havel not only the cause of sadness and commemoration, but a new(s) story of ‘the art of the impossible’
Václav Havel’s essay of 1987, The Story and Totalitarianism’, opens with the following anecdote:
‘A friend of mine, who had serious problems with asthma, was sentenced for political reasons to several years in prison. In prison he suffered greatly because his cellmates were smokers and he could not breathe properly. All his requests to be transferred to a cell of non-smokers fell on deaf ears. His health was seriously in danger, indeed his life was at risk. An American woman, who found out about the situation, wanted to help and telephoned an acquaintance, the editor of an influential newspaper, asking if he might be able to write an article about the situation. The editor replied, “Ring me when he’s dead.”’
Czechoslovak asthma isn’t enough of a story for the Western editor. ‘We are not worthy of attention because we don’t have stories and we don’t have death. We just have asthma. And who wants to hear our stereotypical coughing?’ Totalitarianism, Havel argues, neutralizes the drama of stories and it makes everyday suffering into something normal and unexceptional.
Now that Havel is dead, it is worth asking what sort of story his death makes. Havel’s death is the cause of great sadness, in Prague and around the world. And yet, long expected and undramatic, it does not appear to be much of a news story, rather one of the final melancholy pages of a certain chapter of history. (In addition to Havel, this year has seen the death of a number of his comrades in dissidence and power, including Jiří Dienstbier and Jiří Gruša. That is to say: a generation is passing.) That mortality is kind to no one and has no respect for goodness and reputation is shown by the swift and unceremonious way that Havel’s death was replaced on the front pages by the death of another, very different sort of political leader. (more…)