A Personal Tribute from Stanislav Balík, Dean of the Faculty of Social Studies
This spring marks twenty-five years since I completed my master’s degree in history. At that time, there were no full-time faculty members at the Faculty of Arts in Brno who focused on Czech history after 1945. He was the only one who gave us lectures on the subject—as an external instructor—and his lectures were truly captivating. That’s why I approached him to be the actual (not just formal) supervisor of my thesis, which I later published in the fall of 2000 as my first book: Miloval jsem okrasu domu Tvého. Bludovský monstrproces 1950–1952 (I Have Loved the Beauty of Your House: The Bludov Show Trial 1950-1952). Since he didn’t have an office at the faculty, our consultations took place at his home.
In the years that followed, I often met with him professionally, and later also personally—on the Academic Council of the Institute for the Study of Totalitarian Regimes, at events organized by CDK, at gatherings with friends, and elsewhere.
About fourteen years ago, when I realized how serious the gaps were in our incoming students’ knowledge of contemporary Czech history, I reached out to him—and from that point on, he taught at FSS every year: in one semester, Czech political history from 1948 to 1968, and in the other, the years 1969 to 1989. Students regularly attended his lectures in large numbers, even though they weren’t mandatory.
In recent months, he had been battling a serious illness. We knew it was a fight he could not win—but he faced it with great courage.
A Personal Tribute from Lubomír Kopeček: A Historian with Charisma
I first met Jiří Pernes in 1996, when I—somewhat by chance—got involved as a student in his campaign for the newly formed Senate. He didn’t win that election, nor did he succeed in his later occasional forays into politics. But what he may have lacked in political success, he more than made up for as a historian. He stood out not only for his prolific writing, but above all for his remarkable ability to masterfully capture a topic—whether it was his beloved stories of the final Habsburgs, the history of Moravia, or one of the crossroads of Czech history in the twentieth century.
I’ll also never forget his gift for storytelling—whether I was listening as a student years ago or later as a guest at one of his birthday celebrations. Jiří had a rare talent for it, and it was both remarkable and deeply inspiring. He was, quite simply, a charismatic historian/storyteller.
Equally remarkable was his determination to fight an illness that gave him little chance. When we were arranging his course at the faculty late last year, we both knew it might be for the last time. When I asked him whether he was concerned about lecturing in front of dozens of students—with the risk of catching a cold or an infection that, in his case, could have fatal consequences—he gave me a response that was so typically him: “Should I just sit at home and wait for death?” He continued teaching almost until the very end of the spring semester.