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He　knew；　all　right。　There　were　two　things　in　the　balance：　his　honor　（which　consisted　in　his　refusing　to　retract　what　he　had　said）　and　what　he　had　come　to　call　the　meaning　of　his　life　（his　work　in　medicine　and　research）。
The　chief　surgeon　went　on：　The　pressure　to　make　public　retractions　of　past　statements—there's　something　medieval　about　it。　What　does　it　mean；　anyway；　to　'retract'　what　you've　said？　How　can　anyone　state　categorically　that　a　thought　he　once　had　is　no　longer　valid？　In　modern　times　an　idea　can　be　refuted；　yes；　but　not　retracted。　And　since　to　retract　an　idea　is　impossible；　merely　verbal；　formal　sorcery；　I　see　no　reason　why　you　shouldn't　do　as　they　wish。　In　a　society　run　by　terror；　no　statements　whatsoever　can　be　taken　seriously。　They　are　all　forced；　and　it　is　the　duty　of　every　honest　man　to　ignore　them。　Let　me　conclude　by　saying　that　it　is　in　my　interest　and　in　your　patients'　interest　that　you　stay　on　here　with　us。　
You're　right；　I'm　sure；　said　Tomas；　looking　very　unhappy。
But？　The　chief　surgeon　was　trying　to　guess　his　train　of　thought。
I'm　afraid　I'd　be　ashamed。　
Ashamed！　You　mean　to　say　you　hold　your　colleagues　in　such　high　esteem　that　you　care　what　they　think？　
No；　I　don't　hold　them　in　high　esteem；　said　Tomas。
Oh；　by　the　way；　the　chief　surgeon　added；　you　won't　have　to　make　a　public　statement。　I　have　their　assurance。　They're　bureaucrats。　All　they　need　is　a　note　in　their　files　to　the　effect　that　you've　nothing　against　the　regime。　Then　if　someone　comes　and　attacks　them　for　letting　you　work　at　the　hospital；　they're　covered。　They've　given　me　their　word　that　anything　you　say　will　remain　between　you　and　them。　They　have　no　intention　of　publishing　a　word　of　it。　
Give　me　a　week　to　think　it　over；　said　Tomas；　and　there　the　matter　rested。
4
Tomas　was　considered　the　best　surgeon　in　the　hospital。　Rumor　had　it　that　the　chief　surgeon；　who　was　getting　on　towards　retirement　age；　would　soon　ask　him　to　take　over。　When　that　rumor　was　supplemented　by　the　rumor　that　the　authorities　had　requested　a　statement　of　self…criticism　from　him；　no　one　doubted　he　would　comply。
That　was　the　first　thing　that　struck　him：　although　he　had　never　given　people　cause　to　doubt　his　integrity；　they　were　ready　to　bet　on　his　dishonesty　rather　than　on　his　virtue。
The　second　thing　that　struck　him　was　their　reaction　to　the　position　they　attributed　to　him。　I　might　divide　it　into　two　basic　types：
The　first　type　of　reaction　came　from　people　who　themselves　（they　or　their　intimates）　had　retracted　something；　who　had　themselves　been　forced　to　make　public　peace　with　the　occupation　regime　or　were　prepared　to　do　so　（unwillingly；　of　course—no　one　wanted　to　do　it）。
These　people　began　to　smile　a　curious　smile　at　him；　a　smile　he　had　never　seen　before：　the　sheepish　smile　of　secret　conspiratorial　consent。　It　was　the　smile　of　two　men　meeting　accidentally　in　a　brothel：　both　slightly　abashed；　they　are　at　the　same　time　glad　that　the　feeling　is　mutual；　and　a　bond　of　something　akin　to　brotherhood　develops　between　them。
Their　smiles　were　all　the　more　complacent　because　he　had　never　had　the　reputation　of　being　a　conformist。　His　supposed　acceptance　of　the　chief　surgeon's　proposal　was　therefore　further　proof　that　cowardice　was　slowly　but　surely　becoming　the　norm　of　behavior　and　would　soon　cease　being　taken　for　what　it　actually　was。　He　had　never　been　friends　with　these　people；　and　he　realized　with　dismay　that　if　he　did　in　fact　make　the　statement　the　chief　surgeon　had　requested　of　him；　they　would　start　inviting　him　to　parties　and　he　would　have　to　make　friends　with　them。
The　second　type　of　reaction　came　from　people　who　themselves　（they　or　their　intimates）　had　been　persecuted；　who　had　refused　to　compromise　with　the　occupation　powers　or　were　convinced　they　would　refuse　to　compromise　（to　sign　a　statement）　even　though　no　one　had　requested　it　of　them　（for　instance；　because　they　were　too　young　to　be　seriously　involved）。
One　of　the　latter；　Doctor　S。；　a　talented　young　physician；　asked　Tomas　one　day；　Well；　have　you　written　it　up　for　them？　
What　in　the　world　are　you　talking　about？　Tomas　asked　in　return。
Why；　your　retraction；　he　said。　There　was　no　malice　in　his　voice。　He　even　smiled。　One　more　smile　from　that　thick　herbal　of　smiles：　the　smile　of　smug　moral　superiority。
Tell　me；　what　do　you　know　about　my　retraction？　said　Tomas。　Have　you　read　it？　
No；　said　S。
Then　what　are　you　babbling　about？　
Still　smug；　still　smiling；　S。　replied；　Look；　we　know　how　it　goes。　You　incorporate　it　into　a　letter　to　the　chief　surgeon　or　to　some　minister　or　somebody；　and　he　promises　it　won't　leak　out　and　humiliate　the　author。　Isn't　that　right？　
Tomas　shrugged　his　shoulders　and　let　S。　go　on。
But　even　after　the　statement　is　safely　filed　away；　the　author　knows　that　it　can　be　made　public　at　any　moment。　So　from　then　on　he　doesn't　open　his　mouth；　never　criticizes　a　thing；　never　makes　the　slightest　protest。　The　first　peep　out　of　him　and　into　print　it　goes；　sullying　his　good　name　far　and　wide。　On　the　whole；　it's　rather　a　nice　method。　One　could　imagine　worse。　
Yes；　it's　a　very　nice　method；　said　Tomas；　but　would　you　mind　telling　me　who　gave　you　the　idea　I'd　agreed　to　go　along　with　it？　
S。　shrugged　his　shoulders；　but　the　smile　did　not　disappear　from　his　face。
And　suddenly　Tomas　grasped　a　strange　fact：　everyone　was　smiling　at　him；　everyone　wanted　him　to　write　the　retraction；　it　would　make　everyone　happy！　The　people　with　the　first　type　of　reaction　would　be　happy　because　by　inflating　cowardice；　he　would　make　their　actions　seem　commonplace　and　thereby　give　them　back　their　lost　honor。　The　people　with　the　second　type　of　reaction；　who　had　come　to　consider　their　honor　a　special　privilege　never　to　be　yielded；　nurtured　a　secret　love　for　the　cowards；　for　without　them　their　courage　would　soon　erode　into　a　trivial；　monotonous　grind　admired　by　no　one。
Tomas　could　not　bear　the　smiles。　He　thought　he　saw　them　everywhere；　even　on　the　faces　of　strangers　in　the　street。　He　began　losing　sleep。　Could　it　be？　Did　he　really　hold　those　people　in　such　high　esteem？　No。　He　had　nothing　good　to　say　about　them　and　was　angry　with　himself　for　letting　their　glances　upset　him　so。　It　was　completely　illogical。　How　could　someone　who　had　so　little　respect　for　people　be　so　dependent　on　what　they　thought　of　him？
Perhaps　his　deep…seated　mistrust　of　people　（his　doubts　as　to　their　right　to　decide　his　destiny　and　to　judge　him）　had　played　its　part　in　his　choice　of　profession；　a　profession　that　excluded　him　from　public　display。　A　man　who　chooses　to　be　a　politician；　say；　voluntarily　makes　the　public　his　judge；　with　the　naive　assurance　that　he　will　gain　its　favor。　And　if　the　crowd　does　express　its　disapproval；　it　merely　goads　him　on　to　bigger　and　better　things；　much　in　the　way　Tomas　was　spurred　on　by　the　difficulty　of　a　diagnosis。
A　doctor　（unlike　a　politician　or　an　actor）　is　judged　only　by　his　patients　and　immediate　colleagues；　that　is；　behind　closed　doors；　man　to　man。　Confronted　by　the　looks　of　those　who　judge　him；　he　can　respond　at　once　with　his　own　look；　to　explain　or　defend　himself。　Now　（for　the　first　time　in　his　life）　Tomas　found　himself　in　a　situation　where　the　looks　fixed　on　him　were　so　numerous　that　he　was　unable　to　register　them。　He　could　answer　them　neither　with　his　own　look　nor　with　words。　He　was　at　everyone's　mercy。　People　talked　about　him　inside　and　outside　the　hospital　（it　was　a　time　when　news　about　who　betrayed；　who　denounced；　and　who　collaborated　spread　through　nervous　Prague　with　the　uncanny　speed　of　a　bush　telegraph）；　although　he　knew　about　it；　he　could　do　nothing　to　stop　it。　He　was　surprised　at　how　unbearable　he　found　it；　how　panic…stricken　it　made　him　feel。　The　interest　they　showed　in　him　was　as　unpleasant　as　an　elbowing　crowd　or　the　pawings　of　the　people　who　tear　our　clothes　off　in　nightmares。
He　went　to　the　chief　surgeon　and　told　him　he　would　not　write　a　word。
The　chief　surgeon　shook　his　hand　with　greater　energy　than　usual　and　said　that　he　had　anticipated　Tomas's　decision。
Perhaps　you　can　find　a　way　to　keep　me　on　even　without　a　statement；　said　Tomas；　trying　to　hint　that　a　threat　by　all　his　colleagues　to　resign　upon　his　dismissal　would　suffice。
But　his　colleagues　never　dreamed　of　threatening　to　resign；　and　so　before　long　（the　chief　surgeon　shook　his　hand　even　more　energetically　than　the　previous　time—it　was　black　and　blue　for　days）；　he　was　forced　to　leave　the　hospital。
5
First　he　went　to　work　in　a　country　clinic　about　fifty　miles　from　Prague。　He　commuted　daily　by　train　and　came　home　exhausted。　A　year　later；　he　managed　to　find　a　more　advantageous　but　much　inferior　position　at　a　clinic　on　the　outskirts　of　Prague。　There；　he　could　no　longer　practice　surgery；　and　became　a　general　practitioner。　The　waiting　room　was　jammed；　and　he　had　scarcely　five　minutes　for　each　patient；　he　told　them　how　much　aspirin　to　take；　signed　their　sick…leave　documents；　and　referred　them　to　specialists。　He　considered　himself　more　civil　servant　than　doctor。
One　day；　at　the　end　of　office　hours；　he　was　visited　by　a　man　of　about　fifty　whose　portliness　added　to　his　dignity。　He　introduced　himself　as　representing　the　Ministry　of　the　Interior；　and　invited　Tomas　to　join　him　for　a　drink　across　the　street。
He　ordered　a　bottle　of　wine。　I　have　to　drive　home；　said　Tomas　by　way　of　ref