Milosz: Optimistic Catastrophist

Czeslaw Milosz on Central Europe, the EU, Iraq, and the small piece of land where he comes from. A partner post from Tyden. by Jaroslav Subrt and Milos Dolezal 4 February 2004 He enjoys the reputation almost of a prophet. More than just a living classic and Nobel Prize winner, for his fellow Poles poet and essayist Czeslaw Milosz is a near-myth who, during the communist regime, demonstrated that Poland belonged to world culture.

Jaroslav Subrt and Milos Dolezal recently interviewed Czeslaw Milosz for the Czech newsweekly Tyden.


Tyden: In May 2004 the European Union will embrace 10 new countries, many of them from Central Europe. You have been occupied by the question of the spiritual and cultural identity of Central Europe for a long time. Where are we to look for Central Europe today? In a historical memory, on the map, or in books only?

Czeslaw Milosz: Unfortunately, the 'ontological status' of Central Europe is fairly hazy. We could actually say that Central Europe is best defined by its architecture. The countries involved are roughly those situated between Russia and Germany whose character is determined by all the important architectural styles passing over Europe, for instance medieval and Renaissance architecture. Choosing such a criterion would mean including the Baltic states in the Central European region, as Northern Gothic can be seen there, in Estonia or Latvia, for example. Thus, the Central European space would spread nearly as far as Dubrovnik. Similarly, in this context, Baroque architecture would naturally play a significant role as an important attribute of this part of Europe. The problem, however, becomes complicated when it comes to fixing the region’s eastern border. Russia certainly cannot be called a part of Central Europe, yet Baroque architecture, and the Jesuit Baroque in particular, is often to be found surprisingly far to the east.

Tyden: What values or historical experiences can the Polish people and other Central European nations bring to the future 'common' Europe?

CM: I have to say that I did expect the experience of us Central Europeans to be reflected in some way, and not just in literature. Somehow that has happened, but not in the way I originally imagined. I lived in the United States for many years and among other things I used to translate Polish poetry into English. In doing so, I discovered something that American critics later dubbed 'the Polish school of poetry.' These are mostly writers whose texts embrace a certain historical experience, although they don’t necessarily need to depict any particular historical or political events. For instance, Seamus Heaney, the Irish poet and Nobel Prize winner, found in the poetry of our part of Europe--in Zbigniew Herbert’s and mine, for example--many stimuli for his own work. He was interested in the problem of Northern Ireland, but he refused to identify fully with any side of the conflict, though he wanted to show his attitude in some way. And it was precisely the poetry born in Poland that gave him the appropriate way, by fusing individual and historical elements.

SEEDS OF HOPE

Tyden: What values do you think Europe should prefer so that its inhabitants 'inwardly' identify with it to a certain extent?

CM: That’s a very difficult question, since the situation in Poland differs from the Czech situation. Poland is undoubtedly a deeply religious country; the Czech Republic is not. In this context a question then arises what we can actually contribute to a common Europe. This is certainly not an easy question to answer, in our view, but we do need to keep discussing it.

Tyden: Shortly after the war in Iraq broke out, two respected Western European intellectuals, Juergen Habermas and Jacques Derrida, called for a new definition of the 'European idea.' They appealed to Europe to range itself against the powerful hegemony of the United States, and they introduced the notion of a 'hard core' Europe setting the direction for other countries. Do you agree with them?

CM: I must admit that Derrida has never been the kind of person I would place much trust in. In fact, I even regard him as one of the posthumous children of Marxism. And similar statements, notably differentiating between the 'core' and 'non-core' of Europe, only increase my wariness. My opinion on the Iraqi war naturally has never been unequivocal, but I believe that the various attempts to push America away from Europe are very dangerous. On this point I fully identify with the view of Vaclav Havel when he maintains that America's presence in Europe is unavoidable.

Tyden: There are some who believe that, after joining the EU, the traditional culture of Central European countries will be unable to resist the unifying pressure of modern mass culture. Do you too think that the unique and irreproducible features of Central European culture will slowly but surely disappear?

CM: I certainly don’t take such views lightly. Nevertheless, I’m full of a certain optimistic hope that there are some deep life-giving sources that will enable the cultural uniqueness of our countries to be saved.

Tyden: Do you miss anything in contemporary poetry?

CM: I’m very interested in what befalls contemporary poetry. I have to say, though, that when I reflect on its content I’m surprised at how much pessimism there is. After all, I lived through an era that was unpleasantly dramatic. Back in that half of the 20th century marked by the emergence of two totalitarian systems, I myself used to be called a leading figure in the catastrophic school of poetry. So perhaps, as someone who knows what the issue is, I have a right to give my opinion on the problem. Catastrophism was child’s play compared to today's aporia, the rejection of generally accepted criteria. I believe that the place where today we are fighting for tomorrow is, in fact, poetry. That means that we should track poetry closely for seeds of hope. The metaphysical trends in contemporary poetry should certainly fuel our optimism. On the other hand, verses like those that Tadeusz Rozewicz is writing in Poland weaken our hope. [Editor’s note: Rozewicz is one of the most significant modern Polish poets and writers. Milosz has translated his work into English.]

Tyden: In your book Native Realm, you write that, for you, your ancestors are a kind of anchor whose hawser extends deep below the surface and keeps you close to rescue. How important are your ancestors for you?

CM: Revolt never characterized my relationship towards my ancestors. You might say that in a sense I used to rebel against my origin, but when I lived in America--40 years, and that’s quite some time--I came to the conclusion that my ancestors were actually my strength. And that small piece of land where I come from became for me a central point on the globe. I was lucky that almost all my forebears came from that very corner of land. Until recently my brother used to take care of our graves, some of which date back to the 17th century. He paid a gravedigger to tend them. But my brother died two years ago and unfortunately I can no longer care for them that much. In any case, my northern origin is a thing that is quite fundamental to me; I don't in fact come from Poland but from Lithuania, and also through my grandmother’s family line from Riga, in Latvia, which lies far to the north. My ancestors, then, play a very important role in my life.


Czeslaw Milosz, 92, the most famous Polish poet, bearer of the Nobel Prize for Literature (1980). He was born and spent part of his childhood and youth in Seteiniai, now in Lithuania. He published his first collection of poems in 1933. After completing law studies in Vilnius he took up a scholarship in Paris. During the German occupation of Poland he worked in a clandestine publishing house in Warsaw. After the end of the war he was a Polish cultural attache in the United States and Paris. In 1951 he decided to go into exile. In the '50s, he lived in Paris. In 1961 he was appointed professor of Slavic languages at the University of California, Berkeley. He was allowed to visit Poland in 1981, when the Catholic University in Lublin awarded him an honorary doctorate. From 1989 he alternated between Krakow and the U.S.; in 1993 he was made an honorary citizen of Krakow and soon after settled there permanently. In addition to many volumes of poetry he is renowned for his essays in which he acutely portrays the crisis of culture and society in the 20th century.