Martial law in the Philippines was “lifted” on January 17. Some prisoners were released, other rituals performed But there was no dancing in the streets, and any private rejoicing must have been dampened when President and Prime Minister Ferdinand Marcos signed an order retaining the absolute powers vested in him under his 1973 constitution and 1976 amendments, both submitted to mock referenda. The writ of habeas corpus remains suspended under the catchall “crimes against security” and labor strikes are still banned under another catchall category, “vital industries.” The army will not be returning to the barracks.

The ceremonial lifting was timed for greatest effect, anticipating Ronald Reagan’s inauguration on January 20 and Pope John Paul lis visit to the island in February an ecstatic event for the 40 million Filipino Catholics who make up 86 per cent of the population. The pope was hardly deceived, and, in any case, he certainly does not give his benediction to government repression. The Reagan administration has issued no official statements on the Philippines, but the new secretary of state has made provocative generalizations about how matters of human rights will be met in U.S. foreign policy.

Until fairly recently it was a general assumption throughout the Western world that educated men of every nation, language, and class shared a common tradition based upon the heritage of classical antiquity. Latin, the universal language of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, remained the focus of education as well as the language of learned discourse until well into the eighteenth century. James Boswell could still avoid being arrested for espionage in Germany in 1764 by explaining himself in Latin; but except for such an anachronistic "adventure (as Boswell called it), the classics had already surrendered their influence outside the classroom to the Babel of modern languages and literatures. The peace and unity of the Christian Middle Ages, Novalis lamented nostalgically in 1799, had degenerated into European diversity and conflict.

Kim Chi Ha, the South Korean poet long imprisoned for opposition to his government, was released from jail on December 11. His precarious health and the fear that he might be rearrested at any time (as happened after his “pardon” in 1974) temper one’s relief at this good news. It will be important for international public opinion to maintain vigilance on his behalf.

I have written elsewhere about Kim Chi Ha's poet ry,* which is a powerful contribution to world literature,- and readers might remember that Muriel Rukeyser wrote of him, in the prefatory note to her last major work, The Gates. “The poet has written his stinging work—like that of Burns or Brecht— and it has got under the skin of the highest officials.” (In 1975, as president of American PEN, Rukeyser undertook a journey to Seoul in the hope of securing Kim Chi Has release by personally appealing to various officials, including cabinet ministers and the cardinal The attempt failed.) With The Middle Hour and The Gold Crowned Jesus and Other Writings** Kim Chi Has validity as a poet is well established. What I'd like to speak of here is his politics.

“Be afraid. Nuclear death threatens us all!” So read the banners unfurled at this June's biennial assembly of the German Protestant Churches in Hamburg. In Frankfurt a businessman was adamant. “The best days are behind us. Now the Americans will drag us into a nuclear war. And all for what?”

Fear is abroad in West Germany, fear of what may happen if American medium-range rockets are installed on West German soil to counter the threat from the Soviet SS-20, Opposition to the proposed deployment has emerged as the one issue that may crystallize the disparate strands of unease and discontent within the country into something much more powerful-something that could, if unchecked, not only hasten the collapse of the ruling coalition of Social and Free Democrats, but rock the foundations of the Atlantic Alliance until it collapses.