I remember those words distinctly. We all surely remember Miloš Zeman’s memorable statement: “I saw it in the bottom left corner.” He was referring to an article that, according to the former president, was published in the pre-war magazine “Pritomnost.” However, neither the entire presidential office nor anyone else has managed to find this article in the archives to this day. Most experts are inclined to believe that it never existed. Now it seems that this peculiar political case could have been a humorous foreshadowing of the real disappearance of texts or parts of texts that we encounter today. It’s a bit like in the film “Skrivanci na niti” (Larks on a String), where people who were directly uncomfortable were made to disappear. Today, it’s inconvenient opinions and artistic metaphors that are vanishing. And it’s not just about present-day people who swim against the mainstream but also about those whom we still respected until recently and who have been gone for decades.
For supporters of the cancel culture, it has become fashionable to expose problematic words, phrases, and passages in historical works, especially after criticizing current authors or public figures. The latest victim is the British author Roald Dahl. The publisher decided to omit some “problematic” passages from his texts as part of an assessment of their suitability for children, such as calling someone fat, or changing the description of the witch from a bald hag to a modern emancipated woman. There are hundreds of alterations in Roald Dahl’s texts. When you find yourself questioning the wording of a book from your childhood, it may not be due to memory issues but rather the result of manipulating the text for ideological reasons.
And so, I shudder whenever I read the word “cikan” (a racial slur) to my daughter before bedtime in Josef Lada’s “Kocour Mikes,” or when I come across Karel Hynek Macha’s novel “Cikani,” or see an illustration of Friday from “Robinson Crusoe.” When will someone start shouting loudly enough for these “problematic” passages to disappear from “Babicka” by Božena Němcová? I won’t talk about them; I don’t want to unnecessarily draw attention to them. I wouldn’t want to ruin the collecting passion of those who seek this classic of Czech literature in all its editions and know the wording of every sentence almost by heart. I would hate to see their libraries bear the name “Libri Prohibiti,” as it was in medieval monasteries, where this section contained works threatening the doctrinal unity, dignity, or dogmas of the Catholic Church.
I hope that this modern form of iconoclasm, practiced by religious radicals in the Middle Ages, will ultimately fail in our modern times. It’s up to us, our resilience. We shouldn’t let a few loudmouths drown us out, or let them take our cultural heritage. It’s not in vain that it’s said, “Words come and go; only the written word remains.” We can’t change the past by erasing or destroying it. We can discuss it, consider the opinions of that time as flawed or outdated from today’s perspective. But we won’t change the original thinking by altering or mutilating the original texts a hundred or more years later. Who will be next? Plato? Seneca? The Epic of Gilgamesh?
Ivana Tykač,
- 17. April 2023
