From Ehrenburg to Snow

Soviet debates about the relationship between art and science in the late fifties came to revolve around the opposition between “physicists” and “lyricists” (fiziki i liriki). The expression became established in 1959 and was inspired by a poem of the same name by the Soviet poet Boris Slutsky, who observed that “physicists are in honor” while “lyricists are in debt,” suggesting that the romanticism of the past had been replaced by a new enthusiasm for science. The poem was published in Slovak in the daily newspaper Práca in November 1962.Footnote ⁹ The Czech translation later appeared in the early eighties in a collection of Soviet poetry and again in the mid-eighties in Slutsky’s poetry collection Long Noon.Footnote ¹⁰

However, it was not the poem itself that sparked heightened interest in the relationship between science and art, but rather a following discussion published in the Soviet newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda in the autumn of 1959. From September to December, the paper ran a series of articles exploring the “spiritual world of our contemporaries” and examining the respective roles of science and literature in shaping the consciousness of the “modern man.” It seems that the debate struck a chord with many readers, since the newspaper reportedly received thousands of letters “from all corners of the country.” It was prompted by an article by Ilya Ehrenburg published on September 2, 1959, in which the Russian writer and poet responded to a letter from Nina V., a student at the Leningrad Pedagogical Institute. In her letter, Nina expressed concern that technological progress would stifle interest in art. Ehrenburg argued that “progress in the exact sciences and technology without solving social problems leads society into decline or disaster.” Many others followed his lead, and in the early sixties, the debate moved from Komsomolskaya Pravda to the pages of the weekly Literaturnaya Gazeta.Footnote ¹¹

This Soviet debate did not go unnoticed in Czechoslovakia. Ehrenburg’s initial text, “Response to a Letter,” which sparked the discussion in Komsomolskaya Pravda, was reprinted in Czech translation in the Czechoslovak weekly Literární noviny and was analyzed in other publications.Footnote ¹² Some of Ehrenburg’s other writings on the topic were also published in Czech translation.Footnote ¹³

Both discussions—the Soviet one in Komsomolskaya Pravda and the British one sparked by C. P. Snow’s lecture—occurred almost simultaneously. However, this was not the case with their reception in Czechoslovakia. The Soviet discussion was reflected in Czechoslovakia very early on, as Ehrenburg’s letter was published in Czech translation less than two weeks after its appearance in Soviet newspapers, while the debates surrounding Snow’s “two cultures” reached Czechoslovakia somewhat later. The latter were more a reflection of discussions in other countries than an original response to the British debate. Moreover, Soviet and Western debates were not perceived as equivalent. In the Soviet interpretation, discussions in the USSR were understood as a natural consequence of advances in cybernetics and the approaching space age. By contrast, debates in the West were interpreted as symptoms of a crisis of bourgeois culture.Footnote ¹⁴

The fact that relations between humanists and natural scientists or technicians were discussed at the Academy of Sciences of the Soviet Union—specifically at its General Assembly in October 1962, and then at an extended session of the Presidium of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR a year later—contributed to the increased popularity of the Soviet debate in Czechoslovakia.Footnote ¹⁵ In the Czechoslovak media, the relationship between the humanities and the natural sciences was presented as an issue that was already being addressed, and effectively resolved, by the Academy of Sciences of the USSR—the principal scientific model for the socialist bloc. This narrative, together with the idea that in the socialist countries there was no “gulf” between the natural sciences and the humanities, or between scientists and literary intellectuals, contributed to the perception that the debates sparked by Snow’s lecture were a priori a matter for “the West.”

Another defining characteristic of Snow’s reception in Czechoslovakia was his perceived pro-Soviet stance. Particular emphasis was placed on his Soviet honors and his frequent visits to Soviet universities. To readers in Czechoslovakia, Snow was depicted as someone committed to improving relations between the West and the Soviet Union and as an active advocate of peace.Footnote ¹⁶ Because of these views, he was said to have faced “witch hunts by bourgeois ideologues and the reactionary press.”Footnote ¹⁷

In his influential book The Science of Science, which was also translated into Czech, the Soviet science theorist G. M. Dobrov ranked Snow among the leading researchers in the field of the study of science, praising his contribution to a collection of essays published to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of J. D. Bernal’s book The Social Function of Science.Footnote ¹⁸ Thus, the favorable image of C. P. Snow as a pro-Soviet intellectual circulated widely in Czechoslovakia through translations of Soviet publications. Snow’s authority as a science expert was further enhanced by his involvement with the Science and Society Foundation, founded in 1964, alongside J. D. Bernal, Derek Price, and other experts.Footnote ¹⁹

Among the first in Czechoslovakia to reference both Snow and Ehrenburg in the debate on the relationship between science and art were scholars from the field of English studies and experts on English literature, who primarily knew Snow as a writer. One such figure was Petr Pujman, a writer and translator from English and French, and the son of the well-known author Marie Pujmanová. It was Pujman who drew a connection between the debates of Ehrenburg and Snow on the two cultures in an article for the magazine Plamen in 1960.Footnote ²⁰ In that article, there was only a brief mention of Snow, but four years later, in Literární noviny, Pujman dedicated a whole article to him, again emphasizing the similarities between the British debates and those in the Soviet Union initiated by Ehrenburg.Footnote ²¹

Another key figure among the English literature specialists who helped shape the reception of Snow’s “two cultures” in Czechoslovakia was Zdeněk Stříbrný. A prominent literary historian and translator from English, he later became especially renowned for his work on William Shakespeare. Stříbrný contributed to constructing the image of C. P. Snow in Czechoslovakia by writing an extensive afterword to the Czech edition of Snow’s novel The Masters. In it, he focused primarily on Snow’s literary career, but also referred to The Two Cultures and Snow’s argument that excessive specialization in science “narrows one’s horizons”Footnote ²²— a problem also addressed by Kosík in Dialektika konkrétního, published in the same year.

The Turn of the Scientists

Although Snow’s work was initially received primarily within the community of literary scholars and specialists in English literature, it did not go unnoticed by Czechoslovak scientists. In a 1957 text, the physiologist and poet Miroslav Holub critiqued Snow’s October 1956 article in The New Statesman Footnote ²³—the one that would later form the basis of his famous Rede Lecture. Holub described Snow’s arguments as “exaggerated” and suggested that, rather than addressing a distinct “scientific culture,” Snow was actually addressing the “psychology of the scientist.”Footnote ²⁴

In a 1959 article in the magazine Květen, Holub aligned himself with Snow’s view. Echoing the argument of The Two Cultures, he suggested that scientists generally show more understanding of and respect for artists than artists do for science. Scientists, he observed, are often genuinely interested in art, whereas the reverse—artists engaging seriously with contemporary science—was far less common.Footnote ²⁵ Soon afterward, however, in another article on the same theme published in Host do domu, Holub refined and somewhat revised his position. He opened with the thesis that “scientists underestimate art and artists, and artists and those involved in the arts have no idea about modern science and technology.”Footnote ²⁶ Here, the problem was no longer one-sided; instead, Holub framed it as a reciprocal misunderstanding. By 1963, in an interview, Holub articulated a more integrative vision. He argued that shaping life would in fact become a shared task of science and art: science would provide the method, while art would provide the program.Footnote ²⁷

Another scientist who dealt with the problem of two cultures was Jiří Koryta, a physical chemist, who addressed Snow’s work in the pages of the monthly magazine Vesmír, which was aimed at popularizing science for a wider audience. In his 1965 article “Dual Culture and C. P. Snow,” he was clearly critical of Snow’s literary ability, stating that he was not a great writer, and that his books lacked stylistic artistry and were excessively long. Conversely, he considered Snow’s reflections on the social role of science to be more significant than his novels.Footnote ²⁸ The following issue of Vesmír published an abridged Czech translation of the Italian discussions on The Two Cultures, which first appeared in the literary weekly Paese Libri, a magazine affiliated with the newspaper Paese Sera, which had close ties with the Italian Communist Party.Footnote ²⁹

The notional high point of Snow’s influence in the Czechoslovak scientific community was the “Paths of Science into Life” (Cesty vědy do života) conference, which was held at Liblice Castle in May 1966. The aim of the conference was to explore the possibilities and forms of the penetration of science into broader society and obstacles to this process. While the conference addressed topics such as the implementation of scientific research findings, the application of scientific expertise, and the popularization of science, it was also seen as a step toward bringing the natural and technical sciences closer to the social sciences.Footnote ³⁰

One of the conference speakers was Gustav Bareš, a journalist and ideologue of the Czechoslovak Communist Party. In his speech, he addressed the distinction between science, literature, and art by referring to C. P. Snow’s concept of “the two cultures.” According to Bareš, the natural sciences and the technical disciplines derived from them were currently “in the spotlight,” a situation that went hand in hand with an underestimation of the social sciences. He argued that a misconception had emerged whereby economic problems and technological backwardness were believed to be solvable solely through the natural sciences and technology. What was needed instead, in his view, was a “united front” of the natural, social, and technical sciences.Footnote ³¹

Although Bareš regarded Snow’s Two Cultures as a “provocative” book, he rejected its conclusions: “Much in Snow’s book is unfairly generalized and exaggerated, as one could make a similar and even stronger counter-argument against scientific culture and its recklessness in playing with nuclear weapons and the potential destruction of the world.” At the same time, however, he acknowledged that “the gap between cultures is widening” and that “defining the relationship between science and art and literature is a real civilization problem.” He further argued that engagement with art and literature formed an essential part of “science’s self-awareness.”Footnote ³²

Sociologist Irena Dubská also addressed the relationship between the natural and social sciences at the conference. She complained that the social sciences are constantly forced to “justify themselves” and “demonstrate how they benefit practice and society.”Footnote ³³ The physiologist Zdeněk Servít raised a similar concern, arguing that the goal should be to reunite science and culture—in other words, to restore science as an integral part of culture.Footnote ³⁴

However, this was not the first time that concerns about the undervaluation of the social sciences had been raised in the Czechoslovak context. As early as 1960, the microbiologist Ivan Málek, in a speech marking the fifteenth anniversary of Czechoslovakia’s liberation, described the previous decade as a period during which social scientists “had to overcome the lack of appreciation on the part of some natural scientists.”Footnote ³⁵ He later reiterated this argument in his book Otevřené otázky naší vědy (Open Questions of Our Science).Footnote ³⁶

It was also in 1960 that the Czechoslovak literary weekly Tvorba published a brief article titled “Natural Sciences—Social Sciences 27:11.” The title, resembling a kind of score commonly associated with sports reporting, referred to the ratio of conferences organized by the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences in which foreign scientists were expected to participate in 1961. Of the thirty-eight conferences in total, only eleven were in the social sciences and humanities, while among the twenty-seven natural science conferences, the biological, technical, and chemical sciences were the most strongly represented.Footnote ³⁷

Bareš revisited the issue of the “two cultures” in his 1968 book Možnosti a meze (Possibilities and Limits), in which he called for a critical examination of the extent to which Snow’s conclusions were applicable to Czechoslovakia, or whether they were specific to the British environment. Bareš observed that there was a certain “coldness” between the two cultural spheres in Czechoslovakia and proposed “mass communication” as a means of facilitating dialogue between science and literature.Footnote ³⁸

Czechoslovak Socialist Science: Engineering Tradition and “Collective Work”

Discussions about the “two cultures” in Czechoslovakia during the sixties were not merely reflections of Western or Eastern debates; they were also shaped by prevailing ideas about the role of science in socialist society, as became evident at the “Paths of Science into Life” conference in Liblice. The concept of “two cultures” in Czechoslovakia was rooted in the country’s scientific traditions and the historical roles played by the humanities and social sciences, on the one hand, and the natural and technical sciences, on the other, as well as how their development had been perceived.

The concentration of industry in the Czech lands during Habsburg rule had stimulated the development of the technical and natural sciences as early as the nineteenth century. This was reflected, for example, in the establishment of the Masaryk Academy of Labor in 1920. Historian of science Emilie Těšínská noted that the establishment of this institution represented “the culmination of the vision of the fundamental historical role of engineers, technical sciences, and labor in rebuilding the national economy after World War I and in establishing an independent Czechoslovak state.”Footnote ³⁹ Unlike scientists and artists, engineers were also praised as specialists who were “accustomed to solving practical problems based on scientific principles.”Footnote ⁴⁰ The industrial tradition of Czechoslovakia (more specifically, the Czech lands) is also evident in the arguments made in favor of establishing the Masaryk Academy of Labor, as its supporters referred to the “historical achievements of Czech engineers in construction, mining, and other fields.”Footnote ⁴¹

However, the aforementioned role of Czechoslovak engineers was somewhat neglected in socialist narratives. The First Czechoslovak Republic was largely denigrated for its “bourgeois humanist tradition.”Footnote ⁴² In the discourse on the traditions of science in socialist Czechoslovakia, there was frequent mention of how science had suffered under this “bourgeois” republic. The perceived lag of Czechoslovak science behind global developments was attributed to class character of interwar Czechoslovakia, in which the natural sciences, particularly mathematics and physics, had suffered most. In this view, representatives of these fields had been disadvantaged in comparison to doctors or lawyers, for example, and even the social standing of engineers was considered relatively low.Footnote ⁴³ However, during the Prague Spring, scientists from the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences attempted to rehabilitate the “bourgeois” humanist tradition of the First Republic. Alongside the doctrine of “socialist science,” reflections on pre-1945 scientific traditions and on the role of scientists began to influence the perception of humanities scholars and natural scientists within the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences. Nevertheless, the various interpretations of these traditions became another contentious issue in the creation of the narrative image of these two groups.

One of the defining features of socialist science was supposed to be its collective character (“working in a collective”), which was meant to stand in contrast to interwar “cabinet science” or “working on one’s own.”Footnote ⁴⁴ However, the social sciences and humanities were not (and could not be) perceived as “collective” as the natural sciences or engineering were. Nevertheless, there were collective or team efforts in the social sciences—and not without success (one example is the interdisciplinary expert teams operating at the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences in the second half of the sixties). However, the humanities and social sciences, with their predominant individualism, were less well suited to the concept of socialist science and the concept of the Academy of Sciences as the ultimate collective institution of scientists.

One prominent advocate of collectivism in science was the chemist and chairman of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences František Šorm, who as early as 1962 publicly criticized non-collective and individualistic tendencies within the Academy of Sciences.Footnote ⁴⁵ Among other measures, Šorm proposed reducing funding and personnel for the social sciences and humanities (favoring, for example, the economic sciences). He also contemplated establishing simpler research centers for “individual” disciplines instead of institutes, which would provide planning, methodology and organization. These centers would host only a limited number of the top researchers, while the remaining social science scholars would be limited to short-term contracts or scholarships.Footnote ⁴⁶ Šorm’s proposals were supported by a delegation from the USSR Academy of Sciences, who visited Czechoslovakia in October 1963 at the invitation of the Presidium of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences. The “Soviet comrades” had observed that “in both academies [the Czechoslovak and Slovak Academies of Sciences], some social science departments are oversized, even in fields that are not crucial to society’s needs, where scientific research has predominantly been individual.” They also reported that the Soviet Academy of Sciences was considering “reducing the scope of some social science departments in favor of, for example, economic departments, which will be further developed and expanded.” Following discussions with the Soviet delegation, the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences concluded that “in fields where work is currently mainly carried out on an individual basis, no institutes with a large number of permanent staff should be established, but rather centers that bring together a wider circle of scientific workers, primarily from universities.”Footnote ⁴⁷

Concerns about Dehumanization, or Polish Inspirations

Collectivism in scientific work and engineering tradition was a defining feature of the new socialist science and a widely discussed topic in relation to the differences and similarities between the social, natural, and technical sciences in Czechoslovakia. However, this emphasis on collectivism did not apply uniformly to all the countries of the socialist bloc at that time. In neighboring Poland, for instance, collectivism in the social sciences had largely been abandoned, although the concept was occasionally revisited. Thus, in a speech delivered at the Polish Academy of Sciences in May 1970, Dionizy Smoleński, the Academy’s scientific secretary, was able to declare that “individualism is our national trait, and in the scientific environment almost a professional trait,” and that “a scientist who is not a strong scientific individual rarely achieves original results.” At the same time, in accordance with the core tenets of socialist science policy, Smoleński warned against those scientists who sought to be accountable only “to God and history” and called for more scientific collectives and fewer scientists working independently. However, he recognized the difficulty of this task, given Poland’s very weak tradition of collective research.Footnote ⁴⁸

Neither collectivism nor the engineering tradition was characteristic of all countries in the socialist bloc. Poland, in particular, was known for its humanistic tradition and its emphasis on the humanities and social sciences. There, the scientific tradition became closely associated with the absence of an independent state following the partition of the country among three powers at the end of the eighteenth century. Consequently, science and its traditions became one of the defining features of Polish national identity. As early as 1814, Stanisław Staszic, a leading figure of the Polish Enlightenment, stated that the purpose of the Society of Friends of Science (Towarzystwo Przyjaciół Nauk), founded in Warsaw in 1800, was “to preserve and promote the native language, to document the history of the Polish nation, and to study the land and its resources.”Footnote ⁴⁹ Thus, the tradition of Polish science was primarily linked to the national and patriotic program. This elevated the position of the humanities (especially history, or “research into the past”) over that of the natural and technical sciences.Footnote ⁵⁰

Even after the reestablishment of Poland in 1918, the emphasis on the role of the humanities persisted. Although Polish scientists were now part of a nation “with its own state,” the humanistic tradition remained important to them. This is reflected in the work of the philosopher and historian of science, Bogdan Suchodolski, who defined two main functions of science. The first, factual, function focused on scientific production and the accumulation of knowledge. The second, humanistic, function was to shape the scientist’s personality.Footnote ⁵¹ According to the sociologist Stanisław Ossowski, it was precisely this second humanistic function of science that was of great importance in the Polish context. He argued that Poland was among the countries where the “aristocratic isolation of science and scientists” was most prevalent. Ossowski contrasted this Polish model with those of the Soviet Union and “fascist countries,” as well as with “liberal” Britain, where the “social function of science” was emphasized.Footnote ⁵² The fact that Stanisław Ossowski, Bogdan Suchodolski and other scholars associated with the Polish humanist tradition were able to work publicly in Poland after World War II (particularly after 1956) was an indication that the ethos and image of the humanities and social sciences prevalent in interwar Poland had persisted within the Polish Academy of Sciences.

Although Snow received less attention in Poland,Footnote ⁵³ he was still regarded as a symbol of the debate on the “two cultures,” as evidenced, for example, by Suchodolski’s book Nauka a świadomość społeczna (Science and Social Awareness). Snow is mentioned on the very first page, where the opening sentence reads, “We have become accustomed to contrasting the so-called exact sciences with the humanities,” and the text notes that in some countries the humanities were not considered part of science.Footnote ⁵⁴ The debate in Poland, however, centered less on the relationship between “scientists and literary intellectuals” or “physicists and lyricists” and more on the interaction between technology and humanism. This discussion reached a wide audience, appearing not only in specialized journals but also in daily newspapers and in publications of the ruling Polish United Workers’ Party.Footnote ⁵⁵ The authors generally agreed that the distinction between the sciences and the humanities is meaningless and that the two must be synthesized. They pointed out that technology is itself a human creation and is neither good nor evil in itself, since it is people’s actions that determine whether it is used morally or immorally.Footnote ⁵⁶

In Poland, debates on the relationship between science, technology, and the humanities were significantly influenced by the work of Stanisław Lem. Through his science-fiction, essays, and works such as Summa Technologiae, Lem reflected on the social and ethical implications of scientific and technological progress and often challenged simplistic beliefs in progress and technocracy. Similar concerns about technological society and dehumanization were also present in Czechoslovakia. However, rather than appearing primarily in scientific journals or popular science books, they were more commonly expressed in the cultural press and the arts.

One example is cinema, particularly the famous Czechoslovak science-fiction film Ikarie XB-1,Footnote ⁵⁷ based on a work by Lem, which contrasts technological optimism and progress with humanity’s psychological and social tensions and vulnerabilities. Around the same time that this film was released in Czechoslovak cinemas, Friedrich Dürrenmatt’s play The Physicists was being staged in Czechoslovak theaters. Both works shared a concern with the misuse of science, the question of scientists’ responsibility, and the moral crisis of modern science. The fear that scientific development might outpace society’s capacity to manage it underscored the importance of the social sciences and the need not to underestimate them, since without an educated and socially conscious public, the worst-case scenarios of scientific misuse could become reality. As contemporary Czechoslovak commentators pointed out, one of the Swiss play’s central messages was that science must not advance faster than society itself.Footnote ⁵⁸ Should a situation arise in which scientific developments outpaced the world’s capacity to absorb them, there would be no choice but to “discard the results of science for the sake of humanity.”Footnote ⁵⁹ Dürrenmatt’s The Physicists also resonated strongly in the Czechoslovak context because of its parallels with Karel Čapek’s interwar science-fiction novel Válka s mloky (War with the Newts), which explored similar themes and culminated in a critique of technocratic thinking; notably, a stage adaptation of the novel was being performed simultaneously at the Vinohrady Theater in Prague.Footnote ⁶⁰

As has been shown, fears of a technocratic takeover of society were also present in the Czechoslovak context, although ideas such as the notion that scientific progress should in some cases be slowed down were certainly not part of the official narrative of socialist science. Consequently, this more humanistic perspective—similar to the Polish approach—tended to emerge in Czechoslovakia primarily within literary and artistic circles, much as it did in the Soviet Union in connection with Ehrenburg. At the same time, one of the defining features of the sixties, and especially of the Prague Spring period, was that scientific questions were increasingly discussed not only in the cultural sphere but also in periodicals and broader public debate.

Two Cultures of the Prague Spring

To examine how the concept of the “two cultures” was perceived in the Czechoslovak scientific community of the sixties, it is illuminating to focus on the Prague Spring period. This was a period characterized by a loosening of censorship, which allowed for the publication of many previously unpublishable texts.Footnote ⁶¹ This also fostered discussions on the position of the social sciences and humanities within the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences.Footnote ⁶² During this period, a growing divide emerged within the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences between representatives of the humanities and social sciences, on the one hand, and those of the natural sciences, on the other, which was shaped by memories of the Stalinist period of the fifties. Humanities scholars (and artists) criticized scholars of the natural sciences for their political or ideological involvement during that era, whether in leadership positions within the Academy or in the Communist Party, or both. Moreover, social scientists and humanists were more frequently persecuted in the fifties. This issue was addressed by Czech philosopher Jan Patočka in an article in Literární listy, in which he urged scientists to show solidarity and form an association. He wrote: “A natural scientist may not feel solidarity with humanists, who are subject to regulatory pressure. If he enjoys the favor of the powerful by providing them with the means of their power, he does not realize that he is becoming complicit in this pressure through his indifference and servility …”Footnote ⁶³ It was also noted that while persecution was widespread in the social sciences and humanities during the sixties under the leadership of František Šorm, the natural sciences had been less affected in this regard. In the spring of 1968, this was acknowledged by Otto Wichterle, who had himself been expelled from the university during the purges of 1958 but was subsequently accepted into the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences. According to Wichterle, the Academy’s leadership generally refrained from interfering in the scientific program or personnel policies of the natural science institutes.Footnote ⁶⁴ However, it is important to note that in the fifties it was not only natural scientists who were ideologically and politically engaged, since many artists and humanities scholars were also enthusiastic proponents of Stalinism. During the sixties, when humanities scholars and artists were increasingly distancing themselves from the legacy of Stalinism (including its former ardent supporters), a similar tendency was less observable among natural scientists, who therefore became a target of criticism. This was partly due to the fact that natural scientists made up the majority of members of the leading bodies of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, which were criticized for their conduct during the Prague Spring. They had also mostly held the key leadership positions in the Academy since the time it was established in 1952.

During the relatively short period of the Prague Spring, humanities scholars and artists were able to openly express their criticism of their counterparts from the natural and technical sciences. Views on the role of scientists during this period varied significantly, ranging from accusations of excessive passivity to calls for their elevation to the nation’s elite. Among scientists in general, representatives of the humanities were more active and socially engaged. While some authors credit the natural science departments of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences with a degree of involvement, claiming that “the activity of the Prague Spring developed in most of the social sciences and many of the natural science departments of the Academy,”Footnote ⁶⁵ others, such as Otto Wichterle, observed no such activity, at least not at the beginning of 1968. He claimed, “The political developments of the sixties, which provoked an active response on the cultural front, were not reflected in the life of the Academy.”Footnote ⁶⁶ In his recollection, the Academy did not engage with political developments until the Fourteenth General Assembly of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences on 17–18 April 1968.Footnote ⁶⁷ By contrast, historian and archivist Jindřich Schwippel attributed “a significant share in the revival process of the Prague Spring” to the scientific community, which he believed demonstrated that “the scientific community, similar to the artistic community, functioned as the nation’s elite in 1968 and was widely recognized as such.”Footnote ⁶⁸

Some natural scientists noticed the limited engagement of their colleagues during the Prague Spring. This perceived failure of science to adequately contribute to society was most aptly expressed by two figures who embodied the fusion of science and the arts: Miroslav Holub, and the physiologist Otakar Poupa, who had a passion for the fine arts. In the April 1968 issue of Literární listy, these “bicultural individuals” lamented that, at a time when artists and other cultural figures were actively advancing and anticipating the reform process, “science stood aside and, through its representatives, urged caution against ʻhysterical writers.ʼ”Footnote ⁶⁹ The authors characterized the phenomenon as a “false silence of science.” Although science was “unengaged,” scientists were aware of this lack of engagement and wanted to change it. In the nation’s science laboratories, resolutions, discussions and organizations were initiated by means of which they could express their views, and which would demonstrate the “democratic nature of science.”Footnote ⁷⁰ Holub and Poupa subsequently published another article on a similar topic in the magazine Vesmír, in which they explicitly contrasted the social engagement of humanities scholars with the passivity of natural scientists:

In spite of such observations, the role of natural scientists became more prominent during the efforts to establish the Czech Association of Scientists,Footnote ⁷² and particularly in the drafting of “The Two Thousand Words” manifesto in June 1968. Although the manifesto was authored by the writer Ludvík Vaculík, its conceptual framework was developed by several natural scientists from the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, including Wichterle, Poupa and Holub.Footnote ⁷³

During the Prague Spring, representatives of the humanities also made their voices heard. They called for not only the democratization of academic life but also improvements in the social sciences and humanities, and for an end to preferential treatment for the natural sciences. In March 1968, prominent sinologist Jaroslav Průšek, director of the Oriental Institute, published an article entitled “There Is No Science Without Democracy” in the daily newspaper Práce. In it, he criticized the conditions at the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, particularly in the social sciences, which he claimed the Presidium of the Academy was neglecting.Footnote ⁷⁴ Concerns regarding the neglect of the social sciences and humanities were also highlighted in the “Protest Statement to the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, the Ministry of Education and the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, Department of Science in Prague,” published in Literární listy in May 1968. The text, which was signed predominantly by members of the pre-war Czech Academy of Sciences and Arts and the Royal Learned Society, called for the reform of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences through democratization and depoliticization. It also noted that, since the Academy’s founding, “the natural and technical sciences had been favored at the expense of the social sciences.” In the view of the signatories, this preferential treatment was evident from the number of academic positions allocated, most of which were reserved for scholars of the exact, natural and technical sciences, the generous personnel resources allocated to institutes focused on these fields, and the unequal distribution of funding and subsidies.Footnote ⁷⁵ Unsurprisingly, the majority of the signatories to the protest letter were scholars of the humanities.Footnote ⁷⁶

The Presidium of the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences rejected the protest letter from the members of former scientific organizations and accused the signatories of seeking autonomy for the social sciences “to the point of their complete separation from the natural and technical sciences.” The Presidium’s statement acknowledged that the social sciences had also achieved significant successes in the previous fifteen years (archaeology, oriental studies, political economy, linguistics, history, legal sciences, philosophy, etc.), but insisted that these achievements would have been “hardly possible if they had not been achieved in close connection with other scientific fields in the natural and technical sciences, and if it had not been for the broad research base of Czechoslovak science.”Footnote ⁷⁷ The protest letter prompted responses from not only the Presidium of the Academy of Sciences, but also other scientists. In his article “Defence of Integrity,” published in Literární listy at the end of May 1968, Miroslav Holub addressed the continuing discussion surrounding the protest letter, explicitly linking them to C. P. Snow and his concept of the “two cultures.” Holub warned against the inverse of the problem that the protest’s signatories sought to remedy, arguing that subjective assessments of the natural sciences from a humanities perspective were equally dangerous.Footnote ⁷⁸

The Warsaw Pact invasion in August 1968 and the imposition of the subsequent normalization process had a marked influence on the debate surrounding the perceived disparity between the natural sciences and the humanities and social sciences. Calls for equal status between the two fields fell silent, and articles critically examining the position and role of scientists disappeared from magazines. After the violent suppression of the Prague Spring, there was considerable solidarity in the scientific community. At that time, if there was anything that divided them, it was not their affiliation to one of the two cultures, but whether they sided with the normalizers or the persecuted. Unlike in the fifties, normalization significantly impacted not only social science institutions but also those of the natural sciences and technical fields. This came as something of a surprise to many scientists from the latter institutions, who believed they were irreplaceable experts. As Martin Franc pointed out, they did not anticipate that the Communist Party would prioritize its ideological demands, even at the cost of impeding the work of scientific institutions.Footnote ⁷⁹

The debate on the status, role, and historical experiences of scholars of the humanities and social sciences, on the one hand, and natural scientists, on the other, as reflected in the press during the Prague Spring, suggests that there were certain dividing lines between the “two cultures,” which were shaped by current and former political and ideological contexts. These were based on differing experiences of the Stalinist era (and the related issue of solidarity and cooperation) and the more overt social engagement of humanities scholars and artists in the sixties, which stood in contrast to that of their counterparts in the natural sciences (“the false silence of science”). Another dividing line may have been the situation within the Czechoslovak Academy of Sciences, specifically the perceived favoritism towards the natural sciences, which had received open criticism. Nevertheless, this debate did not align with Snow’s original concept of the “two cultures,” that is, the divide between scholars of the natural sciences and the humanities, centered on issues of general education and mutual comprehension.