It was the tragic involvement of Europe in two world wars that engendered in me as in so many of its citizens, the hope that national power politics could be overcome, and gave birth to my dream of a supra national world government.
It was Austria's indefatigable will to recover, and its active policy of neutrality, which showed me and my countrymen what solidarity and hard work can achieve and how bridges can be built between neighbours, however different their ideological concepts might be.
It was the war, with its hecatombs of innocent victims and ravages of minds and material, that convinced me of just how much men and women all over the world cherish one common desire: peace and security for themselves and their children.
It was my study of law that brought home to me the degree to which a peaceful family of nations is dependent upon the existence and observance of mutually accepted norms as well as upon an international mechanism for solving conflict.
It was in my diplomatic career, through which I had always hoped to contribute in some small way to furthering understanding between peoples and nations, that I learnt to overcome distrust and scepticism through personal contacts and patient dialogue free of all emotion
It was allegiance to democracy, tempered by the experience of fascism, which taught me that in the final analysis nothing is weaker than dictatorship. During my countless journeys around the globe the shortcomings of democracy have not escaped my notice, yet nowhere have I found another system with a comparable degree of success and respect for human dignity.
Finally, it was my Christian faith that led me to recognize and wherever possible alleviate the spiritual and material misery of others At the same time, there is nothing more profoundly disturbing than the use of religious fanaticism for political ends, regardless of denomination.
Years of close association with international politics has undoubtedly dampened the initial idealism of my youth and shaken my belief in the inevitable victory of international solidarity. The folly of those in power has often proved stronger than the aspirations of the people.
Yet I am not without hope—and this hope grows, the more I have an opportunity, during my lectures, seminars and talks, to meet, not so much those who exercise power, but the citizens of this world, in particular the young. I am a firm believer in the emerging groundswell of the people and have confidence in their silent but intensive rejection of the politics of the past. None the less, world peace will not come about through marches, speeches and prayers alone but rather through those in power recognizing where the people's interests really lie Sooner or later, some measure of national sovereignty will have to be relinquished in the interests of a broader global community. The first steps were taken forty years ago with the founding of the United Nations; many more must follow.
Epilogue
In the late summer of 1945, on the outskirts of a small town to the south of Vienna, my wife, my infant daughter Liselotte and I stood before the gutted remains of my parents' house. The war was over at last and, after countless trials and tribulations, we refugees had found our way home from the Austrian Alps. Our quest, however, was not yet over: we sought not only our parents but also a roof over our heads.
The appearance of my parents' house dashed all our hopes: a ruin scorched by fire with the wind whistling at will through the broken window-panes. Utterly dejected and in silence we crept around the garden to the back, convinced that nobody could be living within the shattered walls—until suddenly we heard voices, and a door opened Within seconds we were being embraced by my father and mother: both had survived the war.
Forty years have passed since that day, which, after years of dictatorship and military service, marked for me the start to a new life a life that at the outset had been filled with insecurity and anxiety about our future—alife that had also been marked by tragic events and experiences that were to determine my future thoughts and actions.
Many years later, after I had been elected by the United Nations to the highest office that the international community can bestow, I was repeatedly asked: where—behind all the impartiality of the office—were my real roots? Which principles had governed my life and work What had guided me along the lonely path through the undergrowth of ideologies and vested interests?
Like all essential questions no simple answer can be given In retrospect however I feel that certain decisive influences can be traced: the history of Europe, my continent, and Austria, my homeland; my bitter experience of war; my study of law and my diplomatic career; as well as my belief in democracy and the tenets of Christianity. Together they helped me to observe the claims of my conscience amidst all the different and often conflicting advice submitted by my international advisers.
It was the tragic involvement of Europe in two world wars that engendered in me as in so many of its citizens, the hope that national power politics could be overcome, and gave birth to my dream of a supranational world government.
It was Austria's indefatigable will to recover, and its active policy of neutrality, which showed me and my countrymen what solidarity and hard work can achieve and how bridges can be built between neighbours, however different their ideological concepts might be.
It was the war, with its hecatombs of innocent victims and ravages of minds and material, that convinced me of just how much men and women all over the world cherish one common desire peace and security for themselves and their children.
It was my study of law that brought home to me the degree to which a peaceful family of nations is dependent upon the existence and observance of mutually accepted norms as well as upon an international mechanism for solving conflict.
It was in my diplomatic career, through which I had always hoped to contribute in some small way to furthering understanding between peoples and nations, that I learnt to overcome distrust and scepticism through personal contacts and patient dialogue free of all emotion.
It was allegiance to democracy, tempered by the experience of fascism, which taught me that in the final analysis nothing is weaker than dictatorship. During my countless journeys around the globe the shortcomings of democracy have not escaped my notice, yet nowhere have I found another system with a comparable degree of success and respect for human dignity.
Finally, it was my Christian faith that led me to recognize and, wherever possible, alleviate the spiritual and material misery of others. At the same time, there is nothing more profoundly disturbing than the use of religious fanaticism for political ends regardless of denomination.
Years of close association with international politics has undoubtedly dampened the initial idealism of my youth and shaken my belief in the inevitable victory of international solidarity. The folly of those in power has often proved stronger than the aspirations of the people.
Yet I am not without hope—and this hope grows, the more I have an opportunity, during my lectures, seminars and talks, to meet, not so much those who exercise power, but the citizens of this world, in particular the young. I am a firm believer in the emerging groundswell of the people and have confidence in their silent but intensive rejection of the politics of the past. None the less, world peace will not come about through marches, speeches and prayers alone, but rather through those in power recognizing where the people's interests really lie. Sooner or later, some measure of national sovereignty will have to be relinquished in the interests of a broader global community. The first steps were taken forty years ago with the founding of the United Nations; many more must follow.
Epilogue
In the late summer of 1945, on the outskirts of a small town to the south of Vienna, my wife, my infant daughter Liselotte and I stood before the gutted remains of my parents' house. The war was over at last and, after countless trials and tribulations, we refugees had found our way home from the Austrian Alps. Our quest, however, was not yet over: we sought not only our parents but also a roof over our heads.
The appearance of my parents' house dashed all our hopes: a ruin scorched by fir
e with the wind whistling at will through the broken window-panes. Utterly dejected and in silence we crept around the garden to the back, convinced that nobody could be living within the shattered walls— until suddenly we heard voices, and a door opened Within seconds we were being embraced by my father and mother: both had survived the war.
Forty years have passed since that day, which, after years of dictatorship and military service, marked for me the start to a new life a life that at the outset had been filled with insecurity and anxiety about our future—alife that had also been marked by tragic events and experiences that were to determine my future thoughts and actions.
Many years later, after I had been elected by the United Nations to the highest office that the international community can bestow, I was repeatedly asked: where—behind all the impartiality of the office—were my real roots? Which principles had governed my life and work? What had guided me along the lonely path through the undergrowth of ideologies and vested interests?
Like all essential questions no simple answer can be given In retrospect however I feel that certain decisive influences can be traced: the history of Europe, my continent, and Austria, my homeland; my bitter experience of war; my study of law and my diplomatic career; as well as my belief in democracy and the tenets of Christianity. Together they helped me to observe the claims of my conscience amidst all the different and often conflicting advice submitted by my international advisers.
It was the tragic involvement of Europe in two world wars that engendered in me as in so many of its citizens, the hope that national power politics could be overcome, and gave birth to my dream of a supra national world government.
It was Austria's indefatigable will to recover, and its active policy of neutrality, which showed me and my countrymen what solidarity and hard work can achieve and how bridges can be built between neighbours, however different their ideological concepts might be.
It was the war, with its hecatombs of innocent victims and ravages of minds and material, that convinced me of just how much men and women all over the world cherish one common desire: peace and security for themselves and their children.
It was my study of law that brought home to me the degree to which a peaceful family of nations is dependent upon the existence and observance of mutually accepted norms as well as upon an international mechanism for solving conflict.
It was in my diplomatic career, through which I had always hoped to contribute in some small way to furthering understanding between peoples and nations, that I learnt to overcome distrust and scepticism through personal contacts and patient dialogue free of all emotion.
It was allegiance to democracy, tempered by the experience of fascism, which taught me that in the final analysis nothing is weaker than dictatorship. During my countless journeys around the globe the shortcomings of democracy have not escaped my notice, yet nowhere have I found another system with a comparable degree of success and respect for human dignity.
Finally, it was my Christian faith that led me to recognize and, wherever possible, alleviate the spiritual and material misery of others. At the same time, there is nothing more profoundly disturbing than the use of religious fanaticism for political ends, regardless of denomination.
Years of close association with international politics has undoubtedly dampened the initial idealism of my youth and shaken my belief in the inevitable victory of international solidarity. The folly of those in power has often proved stronger than the aspirations of the people.
Yet I am not without hope—and this hope grows, the more I have an opportunity, during my lectures, seminars and talks, to meet, not so much those who exercise power, but the citizens of this world, in particular the young. I am a firm believer in the emerging groundswell of the people and have confidence in their silent but intensive rejection of the politics of the past. None the less, world peace will not come about through marches, speeches and prayers alone, but rather through those in power recognizing where the people's interests really lie. Sooner or later, some measure of national sovereignty will have to be relinquished in the interests of a broader global community. The first steps were taken forty years ago with the founding of the United Nations; many more must follow.
Acknowledgments
Acknowledgment is due to the late Kurt Waldheim, whose English-language memoir, In the Eye of the Storm, originated this work. (Illustrations of the literary procedure underlying Voyager may be viewed at tiny.cc/voyagermethod). I am grateful to the editors of the following journals in which excerpts from this book, often in earlier versions, have appeared: Black Clock, The Canary, Coconut, The Columbia Poetry Review, Crazyhorse, Critical Quarterly, The Denver Quarterly, Fence, The Indiana Review, The Iowa Review, jubilat, Lana Turner, Parcel, Poetry Northwest, A Public Space, Quarterly West, Witness, and The Canarium Anthology. A previous draft of Book Two appeared, in its entirety, in 1913: A Journal of Forms; and an earlier configuration of Book One was first published as a chapbook by Delirium Press of Montreal. My sincere thanks as well to the teachers, colleagues, friends, and family who lent support and guidance throughout the writing of this book. In all matters of art (and of the heart) the last word belongs to Suzanne.
NEW CALIFORNIA POETRY
edited by Robert Hass
Calvin Bedient
Brenda Hillman
Forrest Gander
For, by Carol Snow
Enola Gay, by Mark Levine
Selected Poems, by Fanny Howe
Sleeping with the Dictionary, by Harryette Mullen
Commons, by Myung Mi Kim
The Guns and Flags Project, by Geoffrey G. O'Brien
Gone, by Fanny Howe
Why/Why Not, by Martha Ronk
A Carnage in the Lovetrees, by Richard Greenfield
The Seventy Prepositions, by Carol Snow
Not Even Then, by Brian Blanchfield
Facts for Visitors, by Srikanth Reddy
Weather Eye Open, by Sarah Gridley
Subject, by Laura Mullen
This Connection of Everyone with Lungs, by Juliana Spahr
The Totality for Kids, by Joshua Clover
The Wilds, by Mark Levine
I Love Artists, by Mei-mei Berssenbrugge
Harm., by Steve Willard
Green and Gray, by Geoffrey G. O'Brien
The Age of Huts (compleat), by Ron Silliman
Selected Poems, 1974–2006: it's go in horizontal, by Leslie Scalapino
rimertown/an atlas, by Laura Walker
Ours, by Cole Swensen
Virgil and the Mountain Cat: Poems, by David Lau
Sight Map: Poems, by Brian Teare
Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy, by Keith Waldrop
R's Boat, by Lisa Robertson
Green is the Orator, by Sarah Gridley
Writing the Silences, by Richard O. Moore
Voyager, by Srikanth Reddy
Dark Archive, by Laura Mullen
Metropole, by Geoffrey G. O'Brien
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Compositor BookMatters, Berkeley
Printer and binder Maple-Vail Book Manufacturing Group
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