Document created: 24 August 04
Air University Review,
May-June
1970
Good soldier Schweik is a popular literary figure of the Czechoslovakian
people. His fame and the enduring niche he holds in the hearts of his
countrymen result from a highly entertaining description of his adventures in
the Austrian Army during World War I. At that time the Czechs were mistrusted
minorities in the vast Austro-Hungarian Empire. This mistrust, however, was not
deep enough to bar their use as cannon fodder through involuntary service in
the Austrian army. Czechoslovaks of every description and walk of life were
impressed into service and formed into Czech regiments. This involuntary
servitude was extremely unpopular with the Czechs, and dissent was expressed in
many forms. In The Good Soldier Schweik indignation is expressed by
broad humor.1
In the book, Schweik is characterized by a willing, eager attitude toward his superiors and a bumbling, inefficient method of carrying out his duties. He sets out on simple orders with an agreeable, cooperative air—and he produces near catastrophic results. In the Austrian army he was accepted with resignation and repeatedly foisted off on unsuspecting officers as a good soldier, a willing worker. He was a little slow-witted perhaps, a trifle accident-prone seemingly, or—the most drastic evaluation—a complete idiot.
Through this process, best described as noncooperative cooperation, Schweik captured the popular imagination of the nation and became a folk hero. In fact, he became more than that; he became a national spirit. The average Czech, in moments of adversity, would adopt the protective mantle of Schweik and resort to humor to express dissatisfaction with the current realities of life. Satirical jokes, puns, rhyming plays on words, all directed at those who forced calamity upon them, would rapidly circulate from mouth to mouth. These would be embellished, embroidered, and refined; increasingly, they would become more and more critical of those in power. Historic Schweik, therefore, is not an accident waiting to happen. He is slow-witted, accident-prone, and stupid, but not unconsciously so. His well-intentioned efforts, consistently resulting in disorder, confusion, and calamity, are opportunely calculated to express nonviolent dissent. In time, this breeds open defiance.
Under the Austro-Hungarians the manipulation of Czech everyday life, the
imposition of unpopular decrees, and the suppression of Czechs, in general,
resulted in a slow, rising tide of dissatisfaction and a burning desire for a
separate national identity, free from Austrian control. The people initially
retaliated with humor to pillory Austrians and Hungarians as complete fools.
The efforts of the Austrian army to make soldiers out of contrary Czechs were
ridiculed. This developed into a national pastime and soon flared into open
defiance: when Czech regiments were ordered to march to the front, they might
march to, through, and well beyond the front.2
Although this kind of activity was not readily available to the civilian populace, they assiduously cultivated and imaginatively applied the Schweik approach. In this they were aided and abetted by a secret revolutionary organization called “The Maffia.”3 This group of individuals of like mind regarding independence from Austria consisted of members of parliament, intellectuals, authors, journalists, and lawyers. They directed the efforts of the people within the country, kept up the spirit of the populace, and disseminated information for publication abroad. Their efforts materially assisted in gaining independence from Austria and later served as the guide for resistance groups during World War II.
When German occupation became a strong possibility in 1938, the Maffia
reorganized during the Munich talks, called themselves “The Political Central
Committee,” and commenced operations. At that time a series of political
questions was raised from outside the country, and demands were made on the
Czechoslovak Republic. The people were subjected to incessant propaganda and
stridently threatened with the might and “right” of Germany. Hitler advised the
Czech government that its treatment of German minorities was absolutely
unacceptable and demanded sweeping concessions under the threat of force. After
intense and hurried consultation with her allies, Czechoslovakia acceded to
these demands and resolved the political questions. The view was taken that
these were merely political concessions granted to a small, highly vocal
minority within the borders of the country; in themselves they would not
compromise national security. Soon after, however, other more unreasonable
demands were made. These included annexing territory and were backed up with
the threat of war. In order to preserve peace in the world, these demands also
were met. Later, a defenseless Czechoslovakia was occupied, and a German
Protectorate established over Bohemia.4
When the Germans entered Prague, the latent spirit of resistance within the
populace had been rekindled. Secret radio transmitters began broadcasting;
Czech soldiers escaped to other lands, ready to fight another day; escape routes
were created for political figures who were assisted to freedom to form a
government in exile.5 Popular demonstrations were organized to
express anti-German sentiment, national holidays were celebrated, and national
monuments were decorated with flowers.6 Parades were also organized
for these events, and the national colors were displayed in every conceivable
fashion. Inevitably, street fights erupted between Germans and Czechs. Czechs
killed in these conflicts were given massive funeral processions, in which,
seemingly, the entire population joined the cortege. Invariably the gravesites
would be repeatedly heaped with floral offerings.7
The Czech penchant for nonviolent resistance was also readily apparent
throughout the cities. Street lamps were posted with signs reserving them for
the occupiers. Art treasures borne away from museums by German trucks were
labeled as stolen property. The people did not “understand”
questions-questioners were met with blank stares and shrugging shoulders. As
time went on and the German grip became tighter, the clever comedy, farce, and
sharp satire evolved into more definitive acts of resistance. Railroad
timetables became unreliable, supplies were misrouted, and if mail was
delivered it was usually illegible due to “rain.” Telephones mysteriously
refused to function, and garbage was collected sporadically, if at all. Later,
as German repression increased, these activities expanded to direct sabotage:
factories went up in flames, explosions wrecked rail cars and bridges, material
was damaged, and assassinations occurred. These efforts caused Heinrich
Himmler, chief of the German gestapo, to denounce the Czech people as ten
million saboteurs. 8
Such all-encompassing denunciation has not been applied to the Czech nation by the Soviet leaders, but prior to the 1968 invasion their statements couched in Communist jargon strongly implied this sort of distinction to the Czech leaders. The events leading to the Russian occupation of Czechoslovakia followed a pattern somewhat similar to the German occupation following Munich. Once again, political questions were raised from outside the country. As before, these concerned internal matters, and the solution demanded was supported by the threat of overwhelming military force. In this case, the political reforms instituted by the Czech leadership of the Communist Party were considered too liberal by the Soviet heirarchy. After a series of polemic attacks by the leading Soviet party press organs, the Czech government was informed that the situation in Czechoslovakia was completely unacceptable.9 This was followed by a proposal to the Czech leaders to attend a meeting with the full Soviet Politburo to be held in Moscow, Kiev, or Lvov. A Czech counterproposal resulted in Russian acceptance of a meeting with the top leaders of the Czech government at the Czechoslovak border town of Cierna. At this meeting both sides agreed to a future meeting at Bratislava, also to be attended by the party leaders of Poland, Hungary, Bulgaria, and East Germany. This meeting resulted in the Bratislava Declaration, in which the Communist Party leaders of those countries pledged “firm endeavor to do everything in their power for the deepening of all-round co-operation . . . on the basis of the principles of equality, respect for sovereignty and national independence, territorial inviolability, mutual fraternal aid and solidarity.”10 Yet, seventeen days after this grand pronouncement, on 20 August 1968, Russian, Polish, Hungarian, Bulgarian, and East German troops—uninvited, unwanted, and unwarranted in Czech eyes—invaded Czechoslovakia. The situation was tailored to lead to a resumption by the Czechs of active resistance against unwarranted interference in their affairs. The events leading up to the invasion and the invasion itself all bore the flavor of history; it had happened in much the same way before.
Again the stage was set for the return of Schweik, the good soldier. After being dormant for more than twenty years, Schweik has suddenly reappeared in today’s Czechoslovakia. His reappearance was triggered by the massive Russian intervention in Czech national affairs. Historically, any interference in Czech internal affairs provoked spontaneous Schweikian responses, and the Russians are now encountering the same spirit that baffled Austrians and confounded Germans.
A slight difference between the Munich Agreement and the Moscow announcement of the “invited invasion” is apparent. The Munich Agreement of 1938 was concluded without Czech representation. The Moscow Agreement was signed by Czechoslovak representatives abducted to Moscow under physical duress for that express purpose.11 Even this abduction and the subsequent events bear a marked similarity to German methods after Munich. President Emil Hacha, then President of Czechoslovakia, had been summoned to Berlin to hear the latest demand by the head of the German state. In Berlin he was subjected to every conceivable threat, browbeaten, and rumored to be drugged before he finally signed the document that furnished the legal pretense for German occupation of Czechoslovakia. After his ordeal, observers noted his exhausted condition and obvious signs of fatigue.12 Thirty years later Alexander Dubcek, head of the Czechoslovak Communist Party, was not summoned to Moscow; he was physically dragged there. As he was being led away, observers report that he appeared half conscious and staggered toward the waiting vehicles for the trip to Moscow.13 What the Czech representatives endured in Moscow before they agreed to the Russian demands is, of course, unknown; undoubtedly, it was thoroughly unpleasant. At any rate, the Russians got what they wanted, the legalistic cloak for their troops in Czechoslovakia.
When the Russian troops entered the capital, Prague, they were accorded a
much more vociferous reception than the Germans received when they occupied the
city in 1939. Then the people had been experiencing cyclical bursts of
patriotic fervor and deep depression. War was on the horizon. Actually seeing
German troops in possession of their city streets plunged them into deep
despair. They slowly rallied, however, and the Schweik treatment was applied
whenever German soldiers attempted personal contact. Violent resistance did not
occur.14
Prior to the Russian invasion, the citizens of Prague were experiencing soaring spirits of release, buoyed up by an exhilarating sense of national pride. The shock of seeing Warsaw Pact troops physically taking over their city quickly generated passionate resentment; soon resentment turned to anger, and bare hands were used against armored tanks. Bare hands gave way to rocks, paving stones, and Molotov cocktails; a fifteen-year-old boy burned a Russian tank with a pickaxe, some newspaper, and a cigarette lighter. Another fifteen-year old died for refusing to give directions to the invading forces15 In all, some 100 Czechs died expressing their defiance. Fortunately, before their deaths inflamed the populace to even greater efforts against the invaders, cooler heads prevailed, and a bloody Hungarian massacre was avoided. Those who died were escorted to their graves by large numbers of the populace, and their burial plots were heaped with floral offerings of respect.
This first reaction to the Soviet presence was completely spontaneous. Indignation, disgust, and anger were vented against bewildered Russian soldiers who were totally dumbfounded at their bitter reception. As the tanks rolled into the city, they were met along the route by large pictures of the Czech leader Alexander Dubcek and thousands of people proudly displaying the tricolor emblem of their national colors and carrying the Czechoslovak flag. They also vocally chastised the invaders, calling out to them to go home and asking why they were in Czechoslovakia. The younger Czechs were more impetuous; school age children took to hurling stones. In one instance an old man showed youngsters how to disable a tank on the move by inserting a paving stone between the treads and the cogwheels of the tank.16 Older students pierced the external fuel cans on the rear of tanks and ignited them with burning shirts.
By the next evening improvised spontaneity crystallized, and scattered,
rudimentary organized efforts came into being. Clandestine radio transmitters
began operating—there were even clandestine television broadcasts. Underground
newspapers also made their appearance. The television and radio broadcasts
called on the people to show their solidarity, to act—but to avoid violence.17
Underground newspapers, printed by students on mimeograph, also indorsed this
theme. By the second day of the invasion, 14 “freedom” papers appeared on the
streets. They published photos verifying Soviet violence and Czech deaths. They
included burning buildings, shot-scarred walls, and burning Russian tanks.
These papers were eagerly distributed by the ordinary citizen in the streets,
on street cars, in the public squares. In themselves, they were open
demonstrations of popular defiance by the great mass of the population.18
Later the secret radios announced the imminent arrest of Czech leaders and
the impending seizure, on a large scale, of prominent people—giving their
names: journalists, writers, lawyers, intellectuals, and party officials. The
citizens were asked to take down street signs and remove house numbers and door
nameplates throughout the city—and this was done within hours. The Russians
were then faced with the frustrating experience of asking Schweik for
directions and receiving cooperative but baffling instructions that invariably
led them someplace they did not want to go.19 In an effort to
counteract the influence of the radio transmitters and locate the broadcasting
points, the Russians dispatched teams of electronic specialists with
direction-finding and jamming equipment. Railway workers were asked by Czech radio
to delay their arrival. Soon railway station names were missing, changed, or
destroyed. The trains carrying the equipment were misrouted, delayed, and
finally lost.20 The Soviets were finally forced to fly the needed
equipment into the country. The radio also reported the license numbers of
automobiles the Soviet secret police were using, and the vehicles were trailed
throughout the city. When the Soviets made an arrest, their cars were
surrounded, prisoners released, drivers beaten.21
As the Czechs were quick to realize, however, violent resistance in their
particular situation could only result in a Hungarian-type slaughter.
Accordingly, the instructions of their leaders to avoid physical acts against
the occupying troops were followed. Passive resistance and whatever other
channels were open to them to register their desires were to be the order of
the day. In one case the people united against a leader preferred by the
Soviets by endorsing their own candidate for office through petitions and
resolutions supported by labor groups, youth organizations, and the Academy of
Sciences.22
In another case, not in keeping with normal channels of protest but a part
of the contemporary world, a 21-year-old student set himself afire in a protest
for freedom. His act of self-immolation was duplicated by a brewery worker and
later by three others of diverse occupations.23 At the site of the
student immolation, the red, white, and blue Czech flag and a mourning flag
were placed along with floral wreaths and candles. Thousands of people joined
the funeral procession. They carried his picture, and many wore their Czech
badge of courage: the tricolor ribbon of the Czech flag on their clothing.24
Radical expressions of this type have diminished somewhat, but their threat
is still present. The Czechs have reverted to their more familiar form of
dissent through humor, and when the opportunity presents itself, they engage in
more active expressions. The occasion of the Czech victory over the Soviets in
the championship ice hockey games resulted in numerous demonstrations and some
damage to Russian property. The Soviet airline offices in Prague were sacked,
Russian flags burned, and Russian barracks window-screens gashed.25 Russian
soldiers are still being exposed to graffiti such as “The Russian circus is
back in town.” “Do not feed the beast.” “Try Soviet paralysis—it’s the world’s
most progressive.” “Go home Ivan—the Chinese are there.”26
So far, Russian reaction to these pinpricks has been restrained to the point of ignoring them completely. The Soviets are not chancing any angry reactions. They are playing a very cautious, behind-the-scenes game. Face-to-face confrontations with the Czechs are assiduously avoided whenever and wherever possible. Soviet troops and tanks are hidden on the outskirts of town, and Russian visibility is held to a minimum. Their strategy is plain: replace the Czech leadership with men under their control, and then use this leadership to regain Communist Party domination of the country. In this process, total and rigid control will be reimposed on the country through a Communist Party completely subservient to Moscow. Another Hungary is to be avoided—if possible.
The ordinary Czech, however, still retains the essence of Schweik. He clearly understands this ploy and realizes that his present government is at best helpless, a prisoner to Soviet demands, and at worst is completely under the thumb of Moscow. In this situation the Czechs will revert to the psychology they developed under the Austrians, refined under the Germans, and are now updating under the Russians. They will play the role of the mistrusted minority to the hilt. This role, however, is fraught with danger. How often and how hard can one tweak the nose of the Russian bear before he snaps? At what point will the humorous Schweik suddenly change from passive to active resistance, and, if he does, what will be the extent of the Russian reaction? The older Czechs have walked this tightrope before, and if history repeats their experience under the Austrians and Germans, a transitional point will be reached. In today’s Czechoslovakia this point may be reached much sooner than in the past. From all indications, the older Czechs have been extremely successful in transferring their experience gained under German domination, along with the Schweikian national spirit, to the young. Bright, brash, impetuous youth has already developed new techniques, and as the opportunities arise, they demonstrate their ingenuity and courage. Their escalation of Schweikian tactics may not be tolerable to the Russians indefinitely. This has not seemed to deter them, and demonstrations continue.
And the Soviet reaction continues to be restrained. Russian response to the
ice hockey debacle was minimal—no forcible imposition, massive repression, or
military restraint on the population. Instead, Soviet pressure was applied
through the Czech government, using the threat of suppressing future
demonstrations by force and demanding action by the Czech government. After the
Soviets dispatched an additional 45,000 troops into the country, demonstrators
were denounced by the government, and those arrested were tried and convicted.
Appeals were also made to the masses to desist, and the people were warned of
possible reprisals.27
The Soviets’ reaction not only underscores their strategy but also emphasizes the horns of the dilemma they have created. The Communist philosophy that demands clubbing the faithful back into the party fold runs counter to the necessity of avoiding any repetition of the Hungarian bloodbath. How does one enforce Communist discipline on a recalcitrant population determined to exercise nonviolent resistance on a national scale? How does one combat nonviolent action or cooperative nonoperation? And does a provoker lightly club of flail about indiscriminately? Schweik was arrested by the Austrians when he shouted, “Long live Emperor Franz Joseph,” because it was inconceivable to them that he meant it. The Germans erased two villages, Lidice and Lezaky, and all their inhabitants from the face of the earth because Reinhard Heydrich, the Reich-Protector of Bohemia-Moravia, was assassinated 28 Neither of these reactions brought about the desired result; the Austrians failed to retain the Czech regiments, and the Germans failed to suppress Czech resistance.
Any attempt to suppress the Czech national spirit will incur an ever expanding body of resentment. This may be expressed in witty slogans painted on walls, funny jokes about Russian stupidity; or popular demonstrations to extol national pride. Any Russian retaliation will increase bitterness, and bitterness, in turn, generates hostility. The cycle is in motion, and the results are unpredictable. Two facts, however, remain quite clear: Schweik is ingeniously irrepressible, and Soviet Communism is insensibly suppressive. A clash seems inevitable.
Air War College
Notes
1. Jaroslav Hasek, The Good Soldier Schweik, trans. Paul Selver (New York: Penguin Books Edition, 1942).
2. Wladyslaw R. Malinowski, The Patterns of Underground Resistance, The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, Vol. 232, March 1944, p. 129.
3. Thomas G. Masaryk, The Making of a State (London: Allen and Unwin, 1929), pp. 46, 337.
4. Colin Chapman, August 21st, the Rape of Czechovakia (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1968), p. 24.
5. Edward Benes, Memoirs of Dr. Benes (London: Allen and Unwin, 1954), p. 70.
6. George F. Kennan, From Prague After Munich; Diplomatic Papers 1938-1940 (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1968), pp. 158-59; Four Fighting Years, Czechoslovak Ministry of Foreign Affairs (London: Hutchinson Company, 1943), p. 1l0.
7. Glorney Bolton, Czech Tragedy (London: Watts and Company, 1955), p. 164.
8. Bruce Lockhart, Comes the Reckoning (London: am, 1947), p. 63.
9. Kennan, pp. xiii-xxiv.
10. “Czechoslovakia—Chronology of Confrontation,” Survival, The Institute for Strategic Studies, London, Vol. 10, No. November 1968, p. 351.
11. Chapman, p. 41; Karel Kral, “Soviet-Czechoslovak Relations: The Pattern of Domination,” East Europe, Vol. 18, I, January 1969.
12. Bolton, p. 157; S. Harrison Thompson, Czechoslovakia, in European History (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1943), p. 354.
13. Chapman, p. 41.
14. Kennan. pp. 86—87; Dana Adams Schmidt, Anatomy of a Satellite (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1952), p. 75.
15. Jan Benes, “A Short Spell of Freedom,” East Europe, Vol. 18, No.2, February 1969, p. 18.
16. Constantine C. Menges, “Resistance in Czechoslovakia, An Underground in the Open,” Trans-action, December 1968, pp. 36-41.
17. Chapman, p. 58; Menges, pp. 36-41.
18. Menges, p. 38.
19. Ibid.
20. Chapman, p. 48; Menges, p. .38.
21. Menges, pp. 31-41.
22. “Czechoslovakia,” East Europe, Vol. 18, No. I, January 1969, p. 43; East Europe, Vol. 18, No.2, February 1969, p. 37.
23. “Czechoslovakia,” East Europe, Vol. 18, No.2, February 1969, p. 37.
24. Ibid; also New York Times, 19 January 1969, p. 15; Jiri Mucha, “Prague After Palach,” The New York Review of Books, Vol. 12, No.4, 27 February 1969, p. 32.
25. “Czechoslovakia,” East Europe, Vol. 18, No.5, May 1969, pp. 41-44.
26. “Czechoslovakia,” East Europe, Vol. 18, No.4, April 1969, p. 27; New York Times, March 16, 1969, p. 43.
27. “Czechoslovakia,” East Europe, Vol. 18, No.5, May 1969, pp. 41-44.
28. Alan Burgess, Seven Men at Daybreak (New York: E. P. Dutton and Company, 1960), p. 152; Four Fighting Years, p. 135.
Colonel Karol F. Rybos (M.A., George Washington University) is Chief, Nature of War Studies, Department of Governmental Affairs, Air War College. Commissioned in 1943 after flight training, he served in the European theater in troop carrier and airborne operations. Postwar assignments have been with Air Reserve Flying training units, air defense and tactical fighter wings, 1947-52; as Commander, Tulln Air Base, Vienna, Austria; Commander, Air Reserve Flying Training Center; student, Air Command and Staff College; on the Staff and Faculty, Squadron Officer School, 1958-63; as student, Air War College; Commander, 31st Aerospace Rescue and Recovery Squadron, Clark AB, Philippines; and Commander, 48th ARRS, Eglin AFB, Florida, until he assumed his present position in 1968. He has contributed to the Air War College Supplement.
Disclaimer
The conclusions and opinions expressed in this document are those of the author cultivated in the freedom of expression, academic environment of Air University. They do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Government, Department of Defense, the United States Air Force or the Air University.
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