By Václav Havel
I recently read an
article titled "Politics as Theatre," a critique of all that I have
tried to do in politics. It argued that in politics, there is no place for a
realm as superfluous as theater. To be sure, in the early months of my
presidency, some of my ideas demonstrated more theatrical flair than political
foresight. But the author erred in one fundamental issue: He misunderstood both
the meaning of theater and a crucial dimension of politics.
Aristotle once wrote
that every drama or tragedy requires a beginning, a middle and an end, with
antecedent following precedent. The world, experienced as a structured
environment, includes Aristotle's inherent dramatic dimension, and theater is
an expression of our desire for a concise way of grasping this essential
element. A play of no more than two hours always presents, or is meant to
present, a picture of the world and an attempt to say something about it.
One definition of
politics holds that it is the conduct, concern for and administration of public
affairs. Obviously, concern for public affairs means concern for humanity and
the world, which requires a recognition of humanity's self-awareness in the
world. I do not see how a politician can achieve this without recognizing drama
as an inherent aspect of the world as seen by human beings and thus as a
fundamental tool of human communication.
Politics without a
beginning, a middle and an end, without exposition and catharsis, without
gradation and suggestiveness, without the transcendence that develops a real
drama, with real people, into a testimony about the world is, in my opinion, a
neutered, one-legged, toothless politics.
I am not always
successful in practicing what I preach, but I work for a politics that knows it
matters what comes first and what follows, a politics that acknowledges all
things have a proper sequence and order. Above all, it is a politics that
realizes that citizens - without theorizing, as I am now - know perfectly well
whether political actions have direction, structure, a logic in time and space,
or whether they lack these qualities and are merely haphazard responses to
circumstances.
On a limited stage,
within limited time and with limited figures or props, theater says something
about the world, about history, about human existence. It explores the world in
order to influence it.
Theater is always
both symbol and abbreviation. In theater, the wealth and complexity of being
are compressed into a simplified code that attempts to extract what is most
essential from the substance of the universe and to convey this to its
audience. This, in fact, is what thinking creatures do every day. Theater is
simply one of the many ways of expressing the human ability to generalize and
comprehend the invisible order of things.
Theater, too, possesses
a special ability to allude to and convey multiple meanings. Action shown
onstage always radiates a broader message, without necessarily being expressed
in words. It is a fragment of life organized in a way meant to say something
about life as a whole. The collective nature of a theatrical experience is no
less important: Theater always presupposes the presence of a community - actors
and audience - who experience it together.
All these qualities
have counterparts in politics. A friend once said that politics is "the
sum of all things concentrated." It encompasses law, economics, philosophy
and psychology. Inevitably, politics is theater, as well - theater as a system
of symbols addressing us as a whole, as individuals and as members of a
community, and testifying through the specific event in which it is embodied,
to the great happenings of life and the world, enhancing our imagination and
sensibilities. I cannot imagine a successful politics without an awareness of
these things.
The symbols that
politics employs are by nature theatrical. National anthems, flags,
decorations, holidays, do not mean much of themselves, but the meanings they
evoke are instruments of a society's self-understanding, tools for creating
awareness of social identity and continuity. Politics is also charged with
symbols in other, less visible respects. When Germany's president came to
Prague shortly after our Velvet Revolution, March 15, 1990, (the 51st anniversary
of the Nazi occupation of the Czech lands), he did not have to say much,
because the fact of his visit on such a day spoke volumes. It was equally
auspicious when the French president and British prime minister arrived on an
anniversary of the Munich
Agreement.
Symbolic political
acts resemble theater. They, too, involve allusion, multiplicity of meaning and
suggestiveness. They, too, portray an abridged reality, making an essential
connection without being explicit. And they, too, have a universally accepted
ritual framework that stands the test of time.
Even doubters cannot
deny one aspect of theatricality in politics: the dependence of politics on
media. Many politicians would be helpless without coaches to teach them the
techniques of performing in front of a camera. All politicians, including those
who sneer at theater as superfluous, something that has no place in politics,
unwittingly become actors, dramatists, directors or entertainers.
The significant role
that a theatrical sensibility plays in politics is two-edged. Those possessing
it can arouse society to great deeds and nurture democratic culture, civic
courage and a sense of responsibility. Such people can also mobilize the worst
instincts and passions, make masses fanatical and lead societies into hell.
Recall the gigantic
Nazi congresses, torchlight processions, the inflammatory speeches by Hitler
and Goebbels and the cult of German mythology. We could hardly find a more
monstrous abuse of politics' theatrical aspect. And today - even in Europe - rulers use theatrical tools to arouse the kind
of blind nationalism that leads to war, ethnic cleansing, concentration camps
and genocide.
So where is the
boundary between legitimate respect for national identity and symbols and the
devilish music of pied pipers, dark magicians and mesmerizers? Where do
passionate speeches end and demagogy begin? How can we recognize the point
beyond which expression of the need for collective experience and integrating
rituals becomes evil manipulation and an assault on human freedom?
Here is where we see
the huge difference between theater as art and the theatrical dimension of
politics. A mad theatrical performance by a group of fanatics is part of
cultural pluralism and, as such, helps to expand the realm of freedom without
posing a threat to anyone. A mad performance by a fanatical politician can
plunge millions into endless calamity.
So the drama of
politics demands not an audience but a world of players. In a theater, our
consciences are touched, but responsibility ends when the curtain falls. The
theater of politics makes permanent demands on us all, as dramatists, actors
and audience - on our common sense, our moderation, our responsibility, our
good taste and our conscience.
- The above was written
in March 1997, while Havel was serving as president of the Czech Republic.