ral, the editorials launched into a discussionnof Solzhenitsyn the man. Twonyears after that controversial Harvardnaddress, the issues raised by Solzhenitsynnhave not yet been laid to rest. Angreat service to the cause of accuratenrhetoric has been done by publishingnthe original speech, twelve typical representationsnof the early editorial responsesnand six new essays—by SidneynHook and Richard Pipes, among others,n—evaluating Solzhenitsyn’s ideas andntheir impact.nAmericans are not accustomed tonstrong criticism—especially when thatncriticism comes from an emigrant, annemigrant hounded out of his own countrynby a totalitarian regime, an emigrantnwhose life is dedicated to exposing thenbrutality of that regime. We expectednSolzhenitsyn to come to Harvard singingndemocracy’s praises. Instead hencame like Plato’s Athenian stranger,nto question our laws, to probe our philosophicalnunderpinnings, and—it soonnbecame clear—to offer the vision of anmore humane society.nSo the applause that greeted Solzhenitsynnat Harvard quickly turned intonbewilderment and bitterness. The editorialsnwere overwhelmingly unfavorable,nand Solzhenitsyn retreated to sequesternhimself in Vermont. Now thenauthors of these six new essays restorensome sense of perspective to the controversy.nAmerican political thoughtnrarely admits a critique from outsidenthe liberal democratic tradition. Butnthat tradition is, after all, only onensmall branch of Western politicalnthought. An occasional Atheniannstranger, questioning our philosophicalnassumptions, can help immeasurablynto shore up our political foundations.nAnd the two years since that Harvardnspeech have underlined the need fornfirm foundations. The Soviet Union hasnproven itself as arrantly deceitful asnever. And at a time of resurgent Islamicnmilitance, surely an appeal to our ownnreligious ideals is apposite.nIn his speech, entitled “A WorldnSplit Apart,” Solzhenitsyn warned thatnthe West had lost its “civic courage”nthrough the pursuit of untrammelednmaterialism. Attacking our institutionsn(the press, the media, the arts, the legalnsystem), he contended that we havensought freedom from our obligations,nsinking into spiritual exhaustion. Byncontrast, he claimed, the oppressed peoplesnof Eastern Europe have gainednspiritual fortitude through sufferingn—so that the West does not offer annattractive model for the reshaping ofncommunist societies. Condemning thenrationalism and humanism that havendominated Western thought since thenRenaissance, he called for a spiritualnrenewal, and ended with a call for a newnsociety, “where our physical nature willnnot be cursed, as in the Middle Ages,nbut even more importantly, our spiritualnbeing will not be trampled upon, as innthe Modern era.”nThis is strong stuff, and many writersnreacted violently. James Reston crackednthat the speech sounded like “the wanderingsnof a mind split apart,” and pointednout (irrelevantly) that the Universitynof Moscow would never have affordednSolzhenitsyn such freedom to condemnnhis hosts. Even today, William McNeillnmakes the same mistake. Writing fornthis volume, McNeill professes his horrornthat Solzhenitsyn in his Russian Orthodoxnpiety believes in “one Truth andnone Duty to defend that truth. RussiannCommunists and Russian OrthodoxnChristians share this kind of logic.”nFrom that shaky polemical base, Mc­nNeill builds to the conclusion that, fornall practical purposes, Solzhenitsyn innhis speech was defending the same valuesnthat motivate the Soviet Union.nA more common line of criticism wasnvoiced by the New York Times, whichncited the danger of “life in a society runnby zealots like Mr. Solzhenitsyn.” Butnthis argument, too, has a limited impact.nNowhere in his speech did Solzhenitsynnindicate a desire to govern, or even tonset up a government of like-mindednmen. Anyone who called the speech anjeremiad should have seen the point.nnnLike the original Jeremiah, Solzhenitsynnseeks not to usurp the place of thenrulers, but rather to chastise them forntheir spiritual weakness. He speaks innthe guise of a prophet, not as a candidatenfor public office.nMany critics argued that Solzhenitsynnwas a typical representative of RussiannOrthodoxy, newly arrived in the UnitednStates and therefore unfamiliar withnour democratic institutions. Surelynthis argument bears some weight; Solzhenitsynnhimself would be the firstnto point out that he is laboring primarilynon behalf of his Russian compatriots.nRichard Pipes contributes a solid essaynhere, placing Solzhenitsyn within thenRussian Slavophile tradition. Still,nwhile the speech does reflect some typicalnRussian themes, it is clear that onencannot write off a foreigner’s viewsnsimply because they are foreign; lengthnof residence does not determine politicalnacumen. Moreover there was somethingngloriously absurd about the spectaclenprovided by some columnists who,nalthough they had never so much asnvisited Russia, calmly assured theirnreaders that Solzhenitsyn could benunderstood as a typical Russian whonwould never really understand America.nThe implicit contradiction eluded mostneditors.nWhy did so many writers attacknSolzhenitsyn on such tenuous grounds.”nThe present work provides a lively contrastnbetween Arthur Schlesinger, writingnfor the Washington Post soon afternthe event, and Sidney Hook, in his newnessay. Schlesinger brusquely condemnsn”the Solzhenitsyn vision, with its fearnof human freedom, its indifference tonhuman happiness, its scorn for democracy,nits faith in the authoritarian state.”nThen, a mere 25 pages later. Hook assuresnthe reader that Solzhenitsyn cannbe counted “on the side of democracy.”nHow could so wide a spectrum of interpretationnexist.’ Are we to believe thatnsomething which is so obvious to Schlesingernwas nonetheless too subtle for anphilosopher of Hook’s stature to grasp.”nJanuary/Febmary 1981n