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The Czechs would prefer their security to come from both East and West—from Moscow and Washington. When a high U.S. policymaker, somewhat concerned, asked him about the Czechoslovak pact with Soviet Russia, Jan Masaryk supposedly offered to put his name on a blank piece of paper—if Roosevelt would write any sort of treaty above the signature. He knew, of course, that the U.S. President has no such power. But he also knew the haunting fear of his own people and of the whole Continent: that the U.S. might withdraw from Europe after the war; abstain from making any commitments on European security; condition Great Britain to follow course. Europe then would have to deal with only one protagonist—Russia.
Where's Home? Sad and sweet, the Czech national anthem sings of landscape and homesickness: "Kde Domuv muj?"—"Where is my home?" But another song, popular with the Czechs long before Joseph Stalin was born, gave martial warning: "Hej, Slovane"—"Hey, Slav, the Russian is with us, and he who is against us will be smashed by the French."
For there was always the German ruffian around, and the little Czech was always in need of a Big Brother. In fact, he always wanted more than one. Unwritten rule No. 1 of the Czechoslovak Republic's foreign policy was to avoid a lopsided dependency on just one big power that would put a small nation wholly at the mercy of the potent protector. Said Jan Masaryk: "I hope I am a European before I am a Slav." To have a decent home, the Czechs need Europe. But right now they are concerned with having a home at all.
As motto of the Republic he created, Jan's father selected two humbly confident words: "Pravda vitêzi" ("Truth prevails"). One truth is: the Czechs are a liberty-loving European people. Another truth is: the Czechs are prepared to conform with any power that assures their national security. Another and most immediate truth is: to this day, the only power current to reach Central Europe with respectable voltage comes from Russia.
Whatever truth prevails, the Czechs are above all resolved to survive. Asked what his postwar program was, shrewd, sensible Jan Masaryk gave students of the craft the most pointed diplomatic statement of modern times: "I want to go home."