If you say Czernin Palace, many people almost automatically think of Jan Masaryk. The seat of the Czechoslovak and nowadays Czech Ministry of Foreign Affairs hides within its walls one of the greatest mysteries of modern history. Under what circumstances and why did the most popular politician of his time die 72 years ago? To this day, we do not know the answer to this question, and probably will not know any relevant and credible answers in the near future. However, we are standing in a place associated with the personality of an extraordinary man and diplomat.
What was Jan Masaryk like? I confess that I register two tendencies in the media space not only in connection with him. Either we idealise him too much or, on the contrary, we put all the blame of the world on him. Neither is correct, neither corresponds, in my opinion, to objective reality. I do not see Jan Masaryk through the prism of television or film projects - his image does not correspond to the person presented in the Czech Century series or the films Milada, Masaryk or Toman. Three years ago, I read a draft of a text which suggested that Jan Masaryk had long held communist views. I confess that I was shocked by such a simplification at the time. All that I have now stated, I am convinced, is not an adequate picture of the Czechoslovak Foreign Minister, nor is it the message we would like to convey to the public about him.
Jan Masaryk was the bearer of a famous name and the son of the founder of the modern Czechoslovak state. In the eyes of his contemporaries, he embodied the continuation of all the ideals of humanity and statehood of the Liberator President. Much was expected of him. He did not always and not always fulfil all of them. I do not mean to imply that he had any intellectual deficiency, but he was simply different in character and humanity. He wanted to entertain himself and those around him, he wanted to live, to indulge in the joys of the world. He enjoyed sports, culture - he played the piano, he just didn't have as much time for school as even his closest surroundings demanded. The proof of his extraordinary abilities was his natural ability to move in society, to win the favour and affection of the powerful by his wit and charm, but above all to learn foreign languages, to perceive the world in its problems, differences and contexts.
Jan Masaryk was simply different from his father and siblings. He was funny, entertaining, jovial, friendly. But he didn't take duty to heart. It seems that the solution, which he chose from time to time even later, was to escape and possibly to seek support or support. Escape from unpleasant matters - this was a factor that was criticized about Masaryk even later by his political contemporaries. On unpleasant matters in the government, he either did not vote, and thus did not have a strong opinion, or he did not come to the meeting at all. He also seems to have modified given words or promises in various ways. Hubert Ripka later recalled the February crisis with bitterness, saying that Jan Masaryk had promised him to resign from the government the day after. This did not happen, although he consulted President Beneš on the matter.
It was actually similar with the supports in life. The loving arms of his mother Charlotte offered him security and understanding, but could not balance the demands of a strict father. Jan Masaryk later recalled this when he spoke of the benevolence of his (as he called it) "father" towards his not only his academic achievements. Yes, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk did indeed have to be very patient with him. But isn't that the expected attitude from a university professor?
Jan Masaryk found his way to his father after the establishment of Czechoslovakia. It was also through his efforts that he entered the diplomatic service of the young state and it is undeniable to say that he found himself there. He represented the republic first in the USA and then in Great Britain. He built up offices, won sympathy and fought (to put it a little pathetically) for democracy and its values. He stayed close to his father, consulted him, debated with him. On the day of his 51st birthday, he announced to the public, with pain in his heart and emotion in his voice, the passing of T. G. Masaryk.
His new mentor and support was Edvard Beneš, a man of immense political talent, an experienced diplomat and one of the main architects of the Czechoslovak state. Jan Masaryk respected him, supported him in his struggle against Nazism and the dismantling of the Czechoslovak Republic, and later in his efforts to restore Czechoslovakia. He agreed with the foreign policy concept, which spoke of taking the positive from the Western world and the positive from the Soviet world. Benes thought that some kind of liberal progress could be achieved under the Bolshevik regime. He was wrong about that and Jan Masaryk was wrong about that.
However, President Beneš had already been declining during the Second World War, and Jan Masaryk was no longer getting clear answers to everything. He himself often hesitated, doubted. Not about resistance against the occupiers who destroyed his father's work, not against the Nazis who burned Lidice. He was thinking about his future after the war and whether the Czech and Slovak nation could cope with the restoration of political, economic, cultural and social life in the demands of the First Republic. And what would be his role in all this? And will it manage it?
Perhaps he also asked himself whether the promises and assurances of people who did not favour him in the interwar period and spoke and wrote about him as a playboy and a patronising individual could be trusted. Can one really trust the Communists and what they say and promise? Jan Masaryk was an empathetic, socially very sensitive man. He repeatedly saw what the country was like after the war during his travels. He didn't play at anything, he didn't feel like a celebrity. He got out of the car and talked to people without inhibitions. He talked so that everyone could understand him. He was quick on his feet, but no doubt aware of how much the world had been transformed by the experience of the war that had just ended.
The tense times brought many more or less hidden conflicts. Starting with the forced departure of the German and Hungarian minorities, through retributive processes, changes in property relations, disputes over the so-called peaceful use of Czechoslovak uranium, to heated disputes in the government. The Marshall Plan, or rather its forced rejection, was a painful sobering of the vision of an independently pursued foreign policy of a sovereign state. The dictum from Moscow was clear - it was a question of mutual friendship. The millionaire's ration pushed by the Communists, the tavern affair with explosives for him, Zenkel and Drtina, the manipulation and realignment of forces in the security apparatus, and the always associated brute pressure from the Communists escalated by propaganda campaigns.
Petr Pithart once said that in February 1948 the Democrats went golfing and they played rugby. Unfortunately, that is a very accurate description of what was happening on the streets during the government crisis. The Democrats relied on the conventions of the First Republic, on the role of the Parliament and the President. But this was a different crisis - a crisis in which the communists took the initiative and the momentum of development and mobilised their supporters, armed them and, even by illegal actions, carried out a coup d'état.
Jan Masaryk remained in the government. It was a sad picture, a sad end to his career. He watched the Communists march to power, the expulsion of his own office staff. Gottwald and his comrades did not even hesitate to take his father's name.
Jan Masaryk certainly soon understood exactly what happened in February 1948. What now? How will he stand? How will those who see him as carrying on the legacy of his father and one day President Beneš understand? And what will foreign countries have to say about all this? He - the son of the founder of Czechoslovakia, he - Jan Masaryk is watching from his ministerial post the destruction of democratic traditions and mechanisms. The communists cheered. For them, Jan Masaryk in government was proof of the legitimacy of February and of the continuity they now needed to invoke. But that was soon to change.
Perhaps these thoughts were also swirling in Jan Masaryk's head at the beginning of March 1948. What conclusions he drew from the experience he had gradually gained since May 1945 has remained hidden from us in its contradictions.
Jan Masaryk was undoubtedly assassinated. The regime that seized power in February 1948 devalued his life ideals, spat on the legacy of the founders of the democratic state of October 1918 and devalued the principles of humanity, morality and freedom. Jan Masaryk may have realised his limits in the post-February regime. But he did not have the qualities and strength to stand up resolutely on his own against the communist lies, deceptions, manipulations and terror.
Paper for the Jan Masaryk Society, presented by the author at a memorial meeting on the occasion of the 72nd anniversary of Jan Masaryk's death at the Czernin Palace on 10 March 2020.