PhDr. Leoš Mlčák

“I got the article, which was signed with my name, and I was livid. It was an offence to St Adalbert, St John of Nepomuk and many others. In effect, the article said that while all sorts of saints had their statues, the memorials for Red Army and the working class were all but forgotten. Of course, many officials contacted me; of course, I sent disclaimers to wherever I could. Some colleagues even said things such as ‘He says he didn’t write it, but wait and see his career take off from now on.’ The thing is, it must have been written under the guidance of some disinformation experts, as it offended just about everyone: the church, the conservationists, and the historians who studied working class movement and memorials. For me, it was hell on Earth. Every night, I got several phone calls to the effect of ‘Die, you Soviet memorial!’, and that is an example of the ‘kinder’ statements. I was under a lot of stress because asking for an official pardon from the Tribuna – an all-out incendiary, ultra-leftist paper that literally loathed nothing – was a futile effort… I suspected they would send me the pay, and accepting the money – the bargain of Judas – would mean acknowledging my authorship. I rejected the pay and sent it back. I kept on bombarding the Tribuna, asking for a pardon and an explanation. The editor-in-chief was named Kojzar; he had a mistress in Olomouc and used to come there quite often, so maybe they were trying to discredit the local conservation efforts. There were rumours of a new law being drafted, and they wanted to slowly eliminate certain old stuff. You know how they cared for heritage conservation during the Bolshevik era... They wanted to stir up a debate and make a lot of people angry, and they did. It was written professionally; all you could do was just dismiss it completely. They needed someone who was known but not too popular. They didn’t expect that sort of response. Many people who knew me sided with me. I owe huge thanks to Professor Hlobil who knew me well. He made sure that the people in university knew what was going on. Many students didn’t know me, though, and students can be pretty radical, so I was under fire so to speak. Strangely enough, the final outcome was that those premeditated ‘assassinations of culture’ never happened. They realised they had gone too far, and it flamed out. All I achieved was that Mr Kojzar wrote in the next issue: ‘As the author informs us, he is not the author of the article.’ That was it – no pardon. I was living in hell for about two months, you see; I would get letters such as ‘We comrades at the Walter factory in Prague have discussed this, are very annoyed, and will write to the [CPC] Central Committee.’ It affected me – it was my biggest clash with the ruling power.”

“I was allowed to go to Mírov; it was a heritage site. I was in such a shock when I came to the local St Margaret’s Church – it was all looted. There was an extra floor added inside where prisoners filed some metal. It was so noisy; they spoke to each other and also, the more noise they made, the more the wardens felt assured that the prisoners were working hard. I walked the corridors and saw the canteen and all that… I didn’t see the dungeons and so on; I didn’t dare ask to be shown – I wasn't sure who I was talking to, and they might as well keep me there... I was shocked and awed. Then I saw the cemetery that had been in use since the 19th century; it was originally a prison for the clergy.”