Oh.  I just found out.  When I was young and full of Eastern literature and late 60s New York, Vaclev Havel was something heroic, something hopeful.  Artists as politicians?  Just as terrible as it sounds, but why not?  You have a country overrun by tanks and you try staying in the real world.  In that young world, a twinge of naive hope, as cynical as they said we were.  Were we cynical because they said so, or because the world demanded it?  Given the chance, we’d like to claim choice in the matter. Anyhow. Polemics written for or against people you never knew are useless—but let me say, that with all the added noise of the 21st century, some memory of moral, literature, and justice still rule.  Go ahead, look him up.  Maybe you’ll remember him as the one who got the band back together.  
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Oh.  I just found out.  When I was young and full of Eastern literature and late 60s New York, Vaclev Havel was something heroic, something hopeful.  Artists as politicians?  Just as terrible as it sounds, but why not?  You have a country overrun by tanks and you try staying in the real world. 
In that young world, a twinge of naive hope, as cynical as they said we were.  Were we cynical because they said so, or because the world demanded it?  Given the chance, we’d like to claim choice in the matter.

Anyhow. Polemics written for or against people you never knew are useless—but let me say, that with all the added noise of the 21st century, some memory of moral, literature, and justice still rule.  Go ahead, look him up.  Maybe you’ll remember him as the one who got the band back together.