The difficulties facing the student of contemporary Soviet conditions in his search for reliable evidence on detail are well known. Court cases, so far as reported, have obvious advantages in comparison, let us say, with the literary productions of authors, who aim at illustrating the direction in which Soviet society is supposed to move, as well as in comparison with the published reports of refugees. These reports may be supposed not to reflect the outlook of the typical Soviet citizen. Further, the refugees’ experiences are subject to processes of selection and editing, which are to a greater or lesser extent conditioned by the state of international relations and of public opinion in the country of publication. The court case, in contrast, represents facts established by the authorities under conditions in which maximum precision is desired, and it is published not only because of its propagandist but (and mainly) for its legal interest.

In 1889 the head of the Railway Department of the Russian Ministry of Finance published a brochure entitled Concerning Nationalism: National Economy and Friedrich List, which is a brief exposition of List's book on The National System of Political Economy. The same man, who had arrived at his position the hard way, had written on economic subjects before. In 1883 he had published a technical volume on the structure of railway tariffs, in which he liberally included his comments on current economic theory and a special recommendation for a Russian type of socialism sponsored by the Orthodox Church.

In the United States, there is widespread acceptance of a stereotype of Soviet industry according to which all initiative and ideas stem from the top. The formulation and enforcement of the national Plans are conceived of as leaving little room for independent action by such lower officials as those in the managements of individual plants. From this stereotype, two conclusions are commonly drawn: one, that industry is operated as a gigantic bureaucracy with rigid centralization and stifling red tape; two, that the entire industrial potential of the country is single-mindedly geared to the precise goals set by the top authorities.

In no other country of twentieth-century Europe have matters of local government played more havoc both with domestic peace and external security than in Czechoslovakia. Nor does modern history offer a more frustrating story than the process by which an honest, though slow and hesitant, endeavor to meet claims for more local self-government was cunningly and ruthlessly exploited for the very opposite, i.e., for crushing liberty and establishing a rigid totalitarian centralism.

The birth of the Republic itself was met with the bitter opposition of the bulk of its German minority, whose desire, however unrealistic, was to join the new Austrian state. The majority of the Sudeten Germans had scarcely begun to show a change of heart, leaders of their major parties had scarcely begun actively to cooperate with the Czechoslovak Government, when Hitler came to power in Germany, and the Nazi acid quickly corroded the delicate fabric of the fresh Czech-German cooperation.

Many literary works would never have existed if there had not been tragedy in the lives of their authors. In moments of extreme unhappiness in the life of a man or nation, art often blossoms and gives inspiration for the fight against fate. The arts, especially poetry, then sometimes reach heights unattainable under normal conditions.

In Poland, in periods of war and occupation, literature has always helped to keep alive the patriotism and fighting-spirit of the people. When war has forced a great number of Poles to live in exile, Polish literature, too, has divided into two currents. Writers in exile have created inspired and profound works, especially in poetry. Works written by those who stayed at home were, in general, of less artistic value and more realistic: they were pictures of hard and bitter life.