On the morning of Aug. 21, 1968, Mr. William Teltscher realized that his trip to Czechoslovakia had ended before it really started. Being a descendant of a traditional wine-trading Jewish family from Mikulov, south Moravia, he decided to visit his native country for the first time since his family left Czechoslovakia in 1939 for England, escaping the Nazi furor. However, he landed in Prague's Ruzyne airport only to see the tanks being unloaded from Soviet transport planes, so he turned around and left the country on the next plane for London.
He was apparently one of those who believed the Prague Spring might eventually lead to significant changes to the totalitarian system or at least give the citizens of Czechoslovakia the feeling that they are once more able to determine their country's destiny. Like many other hundreds of thousands, he was deceived.
When people today watch the dramatic footage of Prague streets in August 1968, filled with crowds gathering around the Soviet tanks trying to explain to the puzzled soldiers that there must have been some kind of a terrible misunderstanding, they are often overcome by emotion. That emotion is an understandable response to a classical example of the clash between good and evil, between the peaceful crowds and the heavily armed occupants. This response, however, might be an obstacle to deeper, more rational analysis of the true nature and hypothetical prospects of the "Resurgent Process," as the Prague Spring was called in the contemporary functionaries' newspeak. The fundamental question is: Was the hope of the Prague Spring really a hope for democracy, and was it ever likely to be fulfilled?
Read Full Article »