Civilization is something more than magnificent buildings, great pictorial, musical, literary works and advanced technologies. It is, above all, a rational and continuous process of understanding, trust and social evolution: and of the human freedoms necessary for it.
Is it being hailed by Moscow? Has the Soviet command tried to put a copy in the hands of every citizen of Czechoslovakia, the better to explain why foreign troops have been stationed in their country? Have the Czechoslovak communications media opened a public discussion of the questions it raises?
If the speech is not being widely circulated, has it at least been placed on the agenda for discussion at a governmental level, or among the leaders of the Communist parties of the “socialist camp”?
The truth is that even the Communist Party, U. S. A., one of the few pro-Moscow parties in the West to support the invasion wholeheartedly, has displayed an ambiguous attitude toward Castro’s speech. While utilizing the fact that Castro approved the action of the Warsaw Pact countries, the top CPUSA leaders have refrained from disseminating or discussing Castro’s speech as a whole.
The silence over what Castro said— one might justifiably call it a conspiracy of silence— is all the stranger in view of the fact that the Cuban leader remains the only one of all those who backed the action of the Warsaw Pact governments whose position can be characterized as internally consistent, if you accept the basic premise advanced by the Kremlin to justify sending troops into Czechoslovakia.
What led the Warsaw Pact allies to decide to block Castro’s contribution from being discussed on a broad basis? Why did they decide that?
“We . . . were convinced—and this is very important—that the Czechoslovak regime was dangerously inclined toward a substantial change in the system. In short, we were convinced that the Czechoslovak regime was heading toward capitalism and was inexorably heading toward imperialism. Of that we did not have the slightest doubt.”
Castro, of course, is referring to the regime of Alexander Dubcek although he does not refer once to Dubcek by name.
The reasons advanced by Castro for coming to this conclusion include the interest displayed by imperialism in the ferment in Czechoslovakia, a certain responsiveness by some circles in the country to this interest, the slogans that were advanced concerning democratization of the political structure, the pressure for establishment of freedom of the press, “a process of seizure of the principal information media by the reactionary elements” which began “to develop,” “a whole series of slogans of open rapprochement toward capitalist concepts and theses and of rapprochement towards the West.”
He agrees that not everything was bad about the situation. Some of the slogans were “unquestionably correct”. He also agrees that responsibility for precipitating a situation so allegedly favorable to the restoration of capitalism must be ascribed to the previous (Novotny) regime, to “incorrect methods of government, bureaucratic policy, separation from the masses . . .”
Various “tendencies were developing simultaneously, some of which justified the change and others of which turned that change toward an openly reactionary policy.”
It should be noted that Castro does not contend that the counterrevolution had reached the point of launching an armed struggle for power. It was the Dubcek regime itself that was in question, that was “dangerously inclined toward a substantial change in the system.” Castro says at another point:
“Provisionally, we reached this conclusion: we had no doubt that the political situation in Czechoslovakia was deteriorating and going downhill on its way back to capitalism and that it was inexorably going to fall into the arms of imperialism.”
I do not propose to argue here whether Czechoslovakia was going downhill and on its way back to capitalism. The accumulating evidence more and more confirms the opposite view—that a political revolution was maturing in Czechoslovakia which, if Moscow had not intervened, would have succeeded in bringing a revolutionary socialist regime to power.
Castro notes that the names of the signers of the appeal had not been made public up to the time he spoke. However, he does not make much of that; he goes to the heart of the question.
The intervention, in his opinion, “unquestionably entailed a violation of legal principles and international norms.” It “cannot be denied,” he contends, “that the sovereignty of the Czechoslovak State was violated.” To say otherwise would be “a fiction, an untruth. And the violation was, in fact, of a flagrant nature.”
“From a legal point of view, this cannot be justified. . . . Not the slightest trace of legality exists. Frankly, none whatever.”
Castro argues that the sole justification for the invasion was political necessity. “In our opinion, the decision made concerning Czechoslovakia can only be explained from a political point of view, not from a legal point of view.”
As he sees it, the political situation had become so alarming “that it was absolutely necessary, at all costs, in one way or another, to prevent this eventuality [the restoration of capitalism] from taking place.”
“The essential point to be accepted, or not accepted,” he insists, “is whether or not the socialist camp could allow a political situation to develop which would lead to the breaking away of a socialist country, to its falling into the arms of imperialism. And our point of view is that it is not permissible and that the socialist camp has a right to prevent this in one way or another. I would like to begin by making it clear that we look upon this fact as an essential one.”
Castro puts up a strong case for dismissing the appeal of the unnamed “group of personalities” as immaterial. Is a certain embarrassment detectable in his stress on this point?
Only last January Aníbal Escalante was put on trial for suggesting that the Kremlin intervene in Cuban affairs and utilize economic pressure to compel Fidel Castro to change his orientation. This was held to be a grave crime against Cuba’s sovereignty, and Escalante was sentenced to fifteen years in prison. Others in his group were sentenced to terms ranging from two to twelve years.
It would have been somewhat inconsistent of Castro to have considered the appeal of the Czechoslovak personalities to be legal while maintaining that the appeal of the Cuban personalities had been correctly condemned as illegal.
He could have argued that the Czechoslovak personalities were within their rights in making their appeal, for it was directed against the allegedly procapitalist Dubcek regime, whereas in the case of Cuba the appeal of the Escalante group was directed against the revolutionary regime of Fidel Castro. But this is a political argument, hinging on the political aims of the two groups —the appeal of the faceless Czechoslovaks being revolutionary, Escalante’s appeal being counterrevolutionary.
This line of argument would have run into complications when it came to explaining why the appeals of such disparate groups were in each instance directed to the same address—the Kremlin. Why would both the criminal Escalante group and the heroic Czechoslovak group each count on a favorable response from the Kremlin unless all three had something in common?
Castro avoided these quicksands by subordinating the issue of sovereignty to political necessity and frankly admitting that the action of the Warsaw Pact allies did not have the “slightest trace of legality.”
To this day (November 17), the Warsaw Pact allies have felt it inadvisable to reveal the names of the signers. The ones to whom suspicion pointed denied any association. Thus, as no personalities, prominent or otherwise, stepped forward to claim the honor of having asked for foreign troops to be sent in, it became more and more evident that the population and the Communist party were solidly opposed to the intervention. Even the few in the regime willing to serve as puppets were afraid to identify themselves! Consequently, within a few days the Kremlin dropped all references to the appeal.
But instead of acknowledging what a fraud had been perpetrated, the spokesmen of the Warsaw Pact sought to brazen it out.
Some quarters, secure in the knowledge that the reimposed censorship prevents the Czechoslovak Communists from replying, are even arguing that the invasion was intended to safeguard the sovereignty of Czechoslovakia.
Thus Gus Hall, the general secretary of the CPUSA, asks rhetorically in his pamphlet, Czechoslovakia at the Crossroads: “Does anyone really believe that the five powers were really violating national sovereignty?” They were, he contends, only protecting their own sovereignty. “The intervention,” he adds, “is a temporary one.” He caps this reasoning with the following assurance: “It will leave Czechoslovakia’s sovereignty intact and able to defend itself.”
This is reminiscent of the famous defense put up by the rapist when he was hauled into the frontier court. “First of all, Judge, does anyone really believe I am capable of really raping a defenseless woman? Secondly, I was only protecting my own virginity. Thirdly, it was only a temporary situation. And, last but not least, afterwards she still had her virginity intact and able to defend itself.”
The fact is that Moscow prefers Gus Hall’s reasoning to Fidel Castro’s frankness. The Cuban leader’s open recognition of the illegal nature of the Soviet intervention in Czechoslovakia was highly embarrassing to those in charge of justifying the operation. That was one reason why they sought to dispose of the speech as quickly and as quietly as possible.
It would be interesting to know what the real thinking of the Cubans is now on this point. How could the Moscow leaders have come in the first place to use such a clumsy and fraudulent device as the appeal from anonymous persons? And why have they said nothing about arguments like those thought up by Gus Hall, maintaining that Czechoslovakia’s sovereignty was preserved by the intervention?