Hitler, Stalin and I

by Heda Margolius Kovály

  That very intelligent people like Rudolf finally embraced Communism was a failure of their reasoning because, in that case, their emotions took over. Many people were in the same situation, and it was especially true for Rudolf, who was an officer in the Czechoslovak Army and couldn’t even defend his own parents. He couldn’t defend anyone and had to resign himself to what happened. Rudolf always had the feeling that it was his duty to do something to change the order of the world.

  Soviet plane plane carrying a banner with the image of Joseph Stalin, no date. Courtesy Česká televize.

  We experienced our youth during Masaryk’s republic – he was so admirable; it was a really splendid society full of free, self-confident and honest people. People were proud of their work, and there were hardly any crimes; it was an excellent society that had great future ahead of it. When I think that it lasted only twenty years … even despite the terrible worldwide economic crisis, the republic prospered, people had good lives, justice and decency ruled.

  After the war people turned toward that past and said: “That republic and all the people who had an education and a strong standing in the society looked to the west with such reliance. Karel Čapek and Masaryk and others looked toward Britain; all artists and writers admired France.” And all those great powers, which could have stood with us and helped us, just abandoned us. They collapsed in front of Hitler. As an immediate reaction, the Czech poet František Halas wrote in his 1938 poem ‘Song of Anguish’: The bell of treason tolls and tolls, whose were the hands to knell it, it was sweet France’s and the proud Albion’s, and we had so loved them. That’s how it was. We had loved them. When Munich happened they hadn’t even invited poor President Beneš to defend our interests. They sold us out to Hitler. And in the end they paid the price for their action, but what happened was very difficult to explain and overcome. One is influenced most by events that one experiences firsthand.

  When we went on the death march from the last camp in Gross-Rosen region, which finally ended at Bergen-Belsen, our guards and soldiers desperately drove us on and on to get us toward the west quickly; that’s how much they dreadfully feared the Russians. They knew that if they could reach the Americans they would be imprisoned in a reasonable military detainee camp while the Russians would have just shot them. “My enemy’s enemy is my friend,” we used to say; Russians appeared admirable in our eyes when we saw how the Germans feared them.

  The other point was the example given by the Communists in the concentration camps. Even though I hate Communism with all my heart, and despite it being a terrible system, I have to say that in the concentration camps the Communists behaved impeccably. Many of us admired their bravery and camaraderie. They showed a solidarity with one another that we politically non-aligned people couldn’t conceive.

  There were also those who had returned from the Soviet Union and spread tales of how beautiful it was, how people were courageous and supportive, how the government cared for its people. Years afterward people told me how dreadful life was there, how people informed on each other, how profiteering flourished. There was xenophobia against refugees from other countries; people had a terrible time and lived in awful conditions. But that special feeling of camaraderie was still being emphasized; hence, we lived in a kind of mist and weren’t able to explain it to ourselves. We lived without authentic reliable facts.

  Czechoslovak Five-year Economic Plan propaganda. 1949–53.

  Communist brigade, workers’ parade, Czechoslovakia, no date.

  Courtesy Česká televize.

  When I look at it today I can’t understand how it was possible that we, who were incarcerated for years in the camps without any credible evidence, would venture to assess the contemporary political situation. We based our views on fairy tales that we had heard. We had nothing authenticated or proven, and on top of that the main argument of the Communists was that they would do everything in a different way.

  I always said: “Rudolf, listen, I find it all very strange, those army officers covered in trinkets, masses marching like soldiers, always the solidarity declarations and various other slogans being bellowed – it reminds me of Hitler in Germany. It’s really the idolization of a few people.” Rudolf replied: “Come on, that’s Russia, that’s something totally different; there it was the outcome of a bloody revolution and long term struggle. Here, however, we are doing everything in a peaceful and just way to suit our own situation, and we’ll try to make comfortable lives for people, live in plenty and have a republic that functions well. And that can be secured by using this economic model.”

  Rudolf began to study economics. He was a very clever man, and I, ‘a silly woman’, had a feeling that there was something wrong. And precisely those declarations that everybody had to have a good life obviously also affected me. The worst were the just objections against the behavior of the western world toward us. There were many confusing messages, and one wanted them to be true. I knew that they really wished to have true pride about doing something constructive, which would put the society on its feet and be fair and just.

  “What would happen to freedom?” I asked. Freedom is the most important because, if one gives up one’s freedom, then one gives up having any influence over one’s own life. As soon as you can’t freely decide what you want to do and what you consider the best option for yourself then you can’t succeed, and slowly you become a slave. Even nowadays, coming back to Prague after the Velvet Revolution, I notice that there are people here today who don’t think like free people because they don’t believe in themselves and keep saying: “But that is decided for me by somebody else, and nothing can be done.” There is always something you can do when you are free because freedom gives you power to assert yourself. When you aren’t free even society can’t function correctly. Everyone has to be free.

  When we arrived in the United States we didn’t even have a cent. Once I was walking in very heavy rain in Boston because I didn’t want to spend the small change I had on the subway and said to myself: “It can all go to hell.” You can endure anything if you are free because if you don’t like it here you can always move elsewhere.

  That was the main mistake in people’s thinking. They never sufficiently realized how much power they had given away to the state, when that system limited personal freedom once all the power was with the state. That was the key stumbling block – you weren’t a free person; hence, you had no right to defend yourself, and the state could do whatever it wished. They were very clever and had a lot of experience: one was given a lump of sugar, the other got a whipping, and altogether it resulted in an obsolete society without freedom because progress, sciences and arts all depended on people who could think freely. When Communism fully developed in Czechoslovakia one couldn’t think – one couldn’t give one’s opinion. I observed how everybody took great care when expressing an opinion; if it were acceptable, could it perhaps still be turned against them? That wasn’t a life really.

  Nevertheless, Rudolf and others I knew were real idealists. They didn’t want anything for themselves. They didn’t wish to improve their status or make a career but wanted to create a better society where oppression would never be repeated. But they somehow forgot this very important point that one couldn’t give up one’s freedom. Nowadays, nobody could live in a repressive society like that. Perhaps in Cuba or North Korea people must tolerate that kind of life.

  Rudolf thought about it all the time but couldn’t fathom it. His friends came to visit – some were defenders of democracy, some were already Communists – but most of them favored Communism. They all presented their arguments, and I listened. And it was interesting that the advocates of democracy were mostly people who didn’t leave much impression – those who hadn’t really excelled during the critical time of the war. Most of them were inactive during the occupation in contrast to the Communists who lived in forests and participated in the resistance movement. That way they became really well respected personalities; and in addition, i
t was their strong desire that the world had to change for the better.

  Finally we went to visit friends, Heda and Vlastimil Borek, who were in fact Rudolf’s distant relations and who had spent the war living in the Soviet Union. Rudolf admired them. They were a very intelligent couple, even actively involved on literary scene, and they continuously praised their life in the Soviet Union during the war. I think that was the last prompt for Rudolf because shortly after, he brought home an application for Communist Party membership. I didn’t want to sign it – I didn’t care for politics. My life was still rather abnormal, but I wanted to be a normal woman, have children and live in peace. At that time none of that was possible. It even seemed unthinkable. Everyone was set against each other, and people squabbled. Rudolf said: “Why is it such a big deal? If you decide not to carry on, you can leave, can’t you?” Poor man. No one could leave because if they did, they would be ruined. He totally ignored how badly the situation could turn out. Finally I consented, and that way we condemned ourselves by our own deeds.

  Then there were elections. I didn’t vote for the Communists, but rather for the Social Democrats because I didn’t want the Communists. I thought perhaps that I shouldn’t have done this to Rudolf – in spite, but I think he did vote for the Communists.

  I attended a Party meeting, and that was dreadful. A young bearded man spoke. He kept attacking Masaryk and used stupid Party slogans and phrases. However, then he continued, describing how life was difficult, how hard it was for him to earn money, how he was scarcely able to bring up his family, how small his salary was and how many troubles he had. I actually said to myself: “Goodness, this is a man who really struggles with life. Perhaps that is something different than when someone preaches nonsense that he has read somewhere. Perhaps Rudolf is right after all, that something good must be done when people wish it because it is their decision.” So I softened a bit.

  A selection of book covers designed by Heda Margolius for Symposion publishing house, Prague, 1945–1948.

  XII

  THE COUNTRY IN DECLINE

  AFTER THE COUP, 1948

  In September 1945 I started working at an excellent independent publishing house called Symposion. It was very small but published fine world literature. There I learned all I needed to know about books. In the spring of 1948 a wave of nationalization began; private enterprise was abolished and shamefully discarded. Even today when I visit second hand bookshops, I buy old books that I loved in my youth. There are always books there from Symposion because they were beautifully produced, and people kept them for a long time.

  Then I commenced work at the Communist Rovnost publishing house at Na Poříčí in Prague where only young people worked – all of them members of the Party. It was a totally incredible group. They all believed in the Party and were staunchly industrious and labored to fulfill the publication plans at all cost. They worked during the day, studied at night and never took care of their personal needs, never rested, never even went on a date. They didn’t dare to express any thoughts of their own. It was something extraordinary.

  I took it upon myself that I could design and worked there as a graphic artist. But it was nothing special; I designed dust jackets, typography and book layouts. We had visits from a member of the Central Committee – he had to approve everything. Nothing could be created freely. He always looked at the jacket and said: “What’s all this you’ve proposed, Comrade?” I said: “That’s just a design.” He: “Where did you get it from?” Perhaps I suggested a commonly used sort of ornamentation. Scared, I replied: “I’ve seen it on some embroidery.” He: “Aha, that’s all right; I was afraid you invented it yourself.” Thinking wasn’t allowed. Nothing could be created from scratch. Everything had to have a basis in folklore or African or Uzbek art. It couldn’t come out of one’s head; everything had to have a relationship to something that had already been previously endorsed.

  above, from the left: Mr. Schnitzer, Mr. Meisnner and Lord Strabolgi greeted by Rudolf Margolius at Ruzyně Airport, Prague, May 1948. At that time Rudolf worked at the Federation of Czechoslovak Industry, prior to becoming Deputy Minister for Foreign Trade. Courtesy Archiv bezpečnostních složek, sbírka Ministerstvo národní bezpečnosti (MNB), Prague.

  The identity card of Rudolf Margolius, Deputy Minister for Foreign Trade for Czechoslovakia, 1950. Courtesy Margolius Family Archive.

  Soon I felt miserable there, but eventually I found a couple of good people who worked there, among them Pavel Kovály, who I later married. He ignored the political intrigues – he studied and was a keen sportsman, but despite that, he had to attend the official Party meetings too. He was my ally at Rovnost, and we didn’t participate in any other Communist Party events.

  It was depressing though. I had to get up at six because I started work at seven and stayed there late into the evening. It was even more difficult if there was a meeting because I had a small child. To say: “I have to go home to my child,” was impossible. When there was a meeting? A child meant nothing. In the end I was really fed up, but I kept saying: “Perhaps I don’t see it the right way.”

  Then something happened. Rudolf, who used to work at Ústřední svaz československého průmyslu [Central Federation of Czechoslovak Industry], came home, and we had theatre tickets for the evening. We were due to go out with Milena and Ota, who throughout my life had been our best and dearest friends. Unfortunately neither of them is alive today. Rudolf came home and said: “Listen, I was offered a post in the cabinet of the Minister for Foreign Trade.” I replied: “My God, please don’t accept it. Stay where you are.” He: “I’ve no interest in that position, and I’m happy where I am. But they’ve ordered me to take it.” I, who had trained my entire life not to cry, started to weep. Milena came and said: “Oh dear, you must be mad. I lived with you through many things, but I haven’t ever seen you cry. And now you’re bawling your head off when your husband’s forging a career for himself.” But I was terrified and vehemently demanded him not to take the post. He said he would try once more, but the next day he came and said: “I have to; they’ve ordered me to do it.” What sort of nonsense was that, to order someone to take on a job? That was the beginning of our next great misfortune.

  From that moment forward, our lives changed. Rudolf rarely came home on time; I got up at six in the morning and left at 6:30. He came home at midnight, slept till eight and started at nine. Our lives had totally separated because he wasn’t able to share anything about his work; everything was kept secret. Our government does that to this day. People had no power in the society – people didn’t matter. They got their holiday paid for, or for free; the Party tossed them a lump of sugar, and with every day that passed people lost their influence and power within the state. Yet, all of that was ignored.

  Calling card of Rudolf Margolius, Deputy Minister for Foreign Trade, circa 1950.

  Rudolf Margolius, Hastings, England, summer 1949. Margolius had been negotiating trade agreements with the British Government during this time.

  Courtesy Margolius Family Archive.

  Rudolf carried a briefcase that nobody was allowed to touch. His child hardly knew him because he was never home, and when we managed to take a short holiday, it was in a very uneasy atmosphere because I disagreed with his kind of work and started to fear for him. After only a year – I have a feeling that it had already started in 1950, because by then he had gained an inside view into the government’s machinations – even Rudolf felt that he had joined something that wasn’t positive. But he still believed it was a transitional phase; if he and few other people who he considered trustworthy and reliable would work hard and endeavor for the country to really prosper then with this success the political attitudes and the whole system would change for the better. He believed that freedom would be gradually re-introduced and the possibility would return for people to actively take part in running the country.

  His initial enthusiasm subsided, and more and more his work became a sort of serv
itude. When after all those years, long after his death, it began to be a bit clearer, I received news from all sides. Even the news-papers wrote about it after 1989, how well he had worked in his post, achieving excellent results, and if it were carried out as he had planned, it would have brought enormous economic success for the country.

  Some of his schemes really happened. In 1949 Rudolf was asked to go to London to sign foreign trade agreements with Great Britain. I knew nothing about it, but Rudolf took a long time to prepare for it and returned twice to Prague during the negotiations to consult with the government regarding his dealings. Afterward President Klement Gottwald embraced him and thanked him; he was celebrated for the successful outcome. I have copies of the treaties. I made them when I was at the Harvard Law School Library and found them in the collection of international economic agreements. For our country those treaties had a very positive impact.

  When the situation deteriorated further it was pointed out that it was due to treason and sabotage. In 1951 the detention of people suspected of anti-government activities began in earnest. Every day one found out that somebody, somewhere had been detained or sinister activities had taken place, and the worst of all was that we knew some of those arrested. At the beginning I felt like that person in the brickworks who had no idea who we were and thought that we were prisoners or criminals, otherwise why would we have been detained? Here was the same kind of situation that allowed those terrible atrocities to arise. People were being arrested from the very beginning of the Communist regime, and when we found out we used to say: “Good God, how is it possible – such good people, and they’re traitors. They’re saboteurs. They wouldn’t have been arrested if they were innocent.” And we weren’t concerned any further. Or we got terribly angry: “How was it possible?”