Czechoslovakia and historical vinegar

Czechoslovakia

A chequered history

Nov 19th 2009
From The Economist print edition

Czechoslovakia was born out of trickery and died in failure. Only up to a point

Czechoslovakia: The State That Failed. By Mary Heimann. Yale University Press; 406 pages; $45 and £25. Buy from Amazon.com, Amazon.co.uk

OUTSIDERS tend to have a soft spot for Czechoslovakia. Poignant music by Leos Janacek, Antonin Dvorak and Bedrich Smetana recalls the struggle for nationhood that culminated in the creation in 1918 of a commendably decent country. Western perfidy at Munich brought its dismemberment at Nazi hands. Stories of courage and anguish leap out from the pages of novels by Milan Kundera (“The Unbearable Lightness of Being”), Josef Skvorecky (“The Engineer of Human Souls”) and Ivan Klima (“Judge on Trial”). Vaclav Havel, the dissident playwright turned philosopher-president, exemplifies the magical triumph of the Velvet Revolution, 20 years ago this week.

Hooks for outside affection abound. Czechoslovaks were strongly Atlanticist. The country owed its existence to President Woodrow Wilson, and Tomas Masaryk, its first president, had an American wife. The combination of high culture and glorious architecture reminded Westerners that it was communist captivity that made “Eastern Europe” backward and miserable. Guilt chipped in too. The West betrayed Czechoslovakia in 1938. It stood by as the Soviet-backed Communists seized power in 1948, and again when Soviet tanks crushed the Prague Spring in 1968. And Czech and Slovak dissidents were far more agreeable than their weird and prickly counterparts elsewhere.

Mary Heimann’s scalpel shreds this uplifting version of history. Inter-war Czechoslovakia was essentially a fraud, she argues, both in its composition and its reputation for liberalism. The wily duo of Masaryk and Eduard Benes (the dominant politicians of the years that followed) duped the victorious Western allies into agreeing to the creation of a new country. Named after only two of its ethnic groups, it ignored the interests of all the others: chiefly Germans, who outnumbered the Slovaks, and Hungarians. Its unjust treatment of the Sudeten Germans, stranded by the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian empire, ultimately caused the first Czechoslovak republic’s downfall.

After pointing out the intolerance, censorship and semi-authoritarianism of pre-war Czechoslovakia, Ms Heimann, an American-born historian at the University of Strathclyde in Scotland, then highlights the anti-Semitism and autocracy that followed the Munich agreement. Sympathetic observers have tended to blame that on Czechoslovak disappointment with the West; she suggests that it was a culmination of existing tendencies. The Nazi occupation that came next met minimal resistance. Her vinegary attention then turns to the diplomatic manoeuvring of exiled Czechoslovak leaders such as Benes and Jan Masaryk, son of Tomas. History normally portrays them as exiled patriots engaged in a gallant struggle. Ms Heimann, however, sees a story of Czech guile and Western gullibility. How was it, exactly, that a bunch of failed émigré politicians were able to gain the status of a legitimate government-in-exile, she asks?

The three post-war years before the communist seizure of power in 1948 come across not as a blessed breathing space between two totalitarian regimes, but as a horrible period of racial revenge: rape, robbery and deportation inflicted on guilty and blameless Germans alike. The Communists then created what she rightly calls a “Stalinist hell”—but with the support of quite a large chunk of the population.

Nor is Ms Heimann fooled by the Prague Spring: not an exuberant experiment in creating “socialism with a human face” but the by-product of a factional fight in the Communist Party. Even the 1989 revolution, she argues, only accelerated the changes already being planned. Soon after, the invented country of Czechoslovakia fell to pieces; the reader can almost hear her applauding.

Myth-busting is fun but it can easily become tiresome.

Ms Heimann ably highlights the holes and contradictions in Czechoslovak history. Her archival research and attention to detail is exemplary. But she spoils her case by sounding spiteful. The story of the revival of the Czech language in the 19th century deserves more than mockery. Although she pays fleeting tribute to Mr Havel she cannot resist qualifying it by saying that he “appears to have had” moral courage in addition to “an idiosyncratic brand of ambition”; that, she argues, fooled the West into seeing post-communist Czechoslovakia more favourably. This approach shamefully underplays the gritty determination of the Communist-era dissidents and of their friends in the West, who often felt they were fighting a hopeless battle.

Ms Heimann is right to highlight the messy opportunism that surrounded the break-up of the Habsburg empire. Czechoslovakia was an artificial creation. But so, in the end, are all countries. Inter-war Czechoslovakia treated Germans badly. But it was still a far more attractive country in terms of civil rights (for example in the treatment of Jews) than any of its neighbours, especially Hitler’s Germany. The post-war punishment of the Germans was indeed deplorable—but the aftermath of wars is often horribly messy. Czechoslovak communists may have been exceptionally revolting; but the democrats were often magnificent. Clear-eyed historical reminders are always welcome. Like everyone, Czechs and Slovaks have plenty to be ashamed of. But they have plenty to be proud of too.

Obama, Missile-Defence and Europe

Missile defence in Europe

Pie in the sky

Sep 17th 2009
From Economist.com

America calls off plans for missile defence in Europe, pleasing peaceniks but worrying hawks

AP

MAYBE some jam tomorrow, but none today. That is the American message to its most stalwart allies in the ex-communist world as Barack Obama’s administration shelves plans to deploy ten interceptor rockets in Poland and a radar station in the Czech Republic.

The timing of the announcement is poor, coming on September 17th, the anniversary of the Soviet attack on Poland in 1939. In a country highly tuned to symbolic snubs, it matters that nobody in Washington seemed to know or care about that.

The news was broken clumsily too: the Czech prime minister was woken by a brief phone call from Mr Obama the night before the decision was made public. Poland is at least gaining some promise of a beefed up American contribution to its security. The Czech Republic receives nothing, for now, in exchange for its loyalty to a controversial scheme that was supposedly a symbol of America’s commitment to the region. Atlanticist politicians in Prague feel humiliated by that.

From a practical point of view, the American change of plan is understandable. The technology of the planned scheme was unproven, and the Iranian threat it was supposed to counter only nascent. “A scheme that doesn’t work, against a threat that doesn’t exist, in countries that don’t want it” was how Zbigniew Brzezinski, the hawkish former national security adviser to the Carter administration, has described it. As with the decision to deploy cruise and Pershing missiles in Western Europe in the 1980s, something that was meant to strengthen the Atlantic alliance ended up putting it under strain. Czech and Polish public opinion was increasingly sceptical, or outright hostile to the bases. Other countries worried that pro-American hawks in ex-communist countries were risking an unnecessary confrontation with Russia.

America’s new plan is different. Mr Obama described it as a “stronger, smarter, swifter” defence of American forces in Europe and of American allies. Reinforcing existing defences against possible long-range Iranian missiles is seen as a problem for the future, given that America now says the Iranians are working more on short- and medium-range missiles than on long-range ones. For now, the extra deployments will be less capable sea-based Aegis missiles which could shoot down any medium-range Iranian missiles aimed at Europe. After 2015, with further development, the scheme could involve land-based versions of the SM3 missile that would, the Pentagon says, ultimately cover all of Europe by 2018.

That would probably start off in bases closer to Iran but it might include central Europe too. “We will look forward to working with Poland about how they might fit into that,” says a senior State Department official. If a future Czech government wanted to take part, it would also receive a sympathetic hearing.

The administration has tried to sweeten the pill by reiterating a promise to place a battery of Patriot short-range missiles to defend Warsaw. Poles expect that these will be American-financed, part of NATO’s commitment to the country’s defence, and fully integrated with Poland’s own air-defence system. American officials are more cagey, saying only that there is still plenty to discuss.

Russia has welcomed the decision to shelve the existing scheme. It is unlikely to be pleased about any replacements based anywhere in the former Soviet empire, which the president, Dmitry Medvedev, has described as a sphere of Russian “privileged interests”. If America can obtain Russian help in squeezing Iran’s nuclear and missile programmes, and if Russia also backs down on its threatened deployment of missiles in the Kaliningrad region, which borders Poland, it would be easy for the administration to walk away even further away from missile defence.

Although Poles may bemoan the timing, America's calendar may be shaped by the forthcoming UN General Assembly. Russia and China have been reluctant to agree to further sanctions or other pressure on Iran. Mr Obama may hope that by demonstrating a willingness to engage Russia in Europe he might have a better chance of co-operation in the Middle East.

But the big task for America now is to reassure the Poles and other twitchy ex-communist countries such as the Baltic states, that it remains committed to their defence. It stresses that plenty of high-level structures exist to discuss these worries and that NATO is actively rethinking its plans for defence in the east. The question is what will really be on offer in these discussions. The east European countries, squeezed between an increasingly close Russian-German friendship, look anxiously towards America to safeguard their interests. But is America looking at them?

Poland Czech and Lisbon

Poles, Czechs and the Lisbon treaty

The awkward squad
Jul 23rd 2009 | PRAGUE AND WARSAW
From The Economist print edition


Why the Polish and Czech presidents drag their feet over the Lisbon treaty

AFP

Klaus and Kaczynski, procrastinating presidents


AFTER being subject to commissars in Moscow, some east Europeans are twitchy about commissioners in Brussels. But that only partly explains the reluctance of two presidents, Poland’s Lech Kaczynski and the Czech Republic’s Vaclav Klaus, to sign the European Union’s Lisbon treaty, which both countries’ parliaments have ratified.

Both men are famously prickly and prone to nit-picking. Both frame their objections in the language of national sovereignty. Both hate to see Ireland bullied—it is being asked to vote again on Lisbon on October 2nd. Mr Kaczynski similarly disliked the sanctions briefly imposed by the EU on Austria when the right-wing Freedom Party was in government. Mr Klaus says the EU elite cannot accept dissenting views (when visiting European parliamentarians attacked his Euroscepticism he compared them to communist-style thought police).

But the differences are bigger than the similarities. Mr Kaczynski’s opposition to Lisbon is about posturing not principle. He says publicly that he is merely waiting for the second Irish referendum before signing. Given that he helped to negotiate the treaty on Poland’s behalf, it would be hard for him to demonise it as Mr Klaus does. Indeed, Mr Kaczynski, who worries about waxing Russian influence and a waning American presence, has described the EU as “a great thing”.

The real reason for the Polish president’s delay is a desire to annoy the government led by Donald Tusk’s Civic Platform party. Mr Tusk defeated the government led by Law and Justice, headed by the president’s twin, Jaroslaw Kaczynski, in 2007. Mr Tusk’s emollient, pro-EU stance contrasts sharply with the Kaczynskis’ abrasive style. A delay over Lisbon also allows the president to grandstand on the EU’s “moral relativism” (meaning the incompatibility of its views of human rights with Polish social mores on homosexuality and the like).

Mr Klaus says he will get around to Lisbon only once everyone else has endorsed it. He will probably sign, but through gritted teeth. He would like a loose free-trade zone instead of what he sees as a nascent superstate. Unlike Mr Kaczynski, he is no Atlanticist; he gets on quite well with Russia. Also unlike Mr Kaczynski, he has the excuse that, though Lisbon passed the Czech parliament in May, it faces a court challenge by politicians from the Civic Democratic party that Mr Klaus once led.

Euroscepticism has only limited appeal in eastern Europe. The EU is widely seen as a guarantor of stability and progress: generous in paying for modernisation of public services and infrastructure and the best hope for fighting corruption. Lisbon is widely backed not on its merits but because its failure would risk pushing the EU into yet another interminable internal debate.

Roma

[This piece was largely written by my excellent colleague in Prague, Katerina Zachovalova. Any mistakes are mine]

The Roma in eastern Europe

Canada home and dry
Apr 30th 2009 | PRAGUE
From The Economist print edition


How Roma fleeing persecution win asylum in Canada


EMIGRATION to Canada was a well-trodden road for dissidents after the Soviet-led invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. It is 20 years since the country’s leaden communist regime perished in the velvet revolution. The Czech Republic is a regional success story. Yet rising numbers of Roma (gypsy) citizens are making the same journey to the same faraway country, because life at home is intolerable.

Around 250,000 Roma live in the Czech Republic. Their problems include poverty, lack of education, centuries of prejudice and, now, attacks by far-right extremists. According to the Canadian embassy in Prague, 861 Czechs applied for asylum in Canada in 2008, and 84 won it. Canada does not record their ethnic origin, but officials say most were Roma. That exceeds figures from countries such as Afghanistan (488 applicants) and Iraq (282). For communist Cuba, much scolded by the Czech government for its poor human-rights record, the figures were 184 applicants and 93 given asylum. The numbers for the first quarter of 2009 are even more startling: 653 applications, of which 34 were granted.

Admittedly, getting to Canada is easier for the Czech Roma than for Afghans or Iraqis (in October 2007 the Canadians lifted visa requirements for Czechs that had been imposed ten years earlier after a previous Roma exodus). But the figures are also higher than from other ex-communist countries with large Roma populations and visa-free travel to Canada. Last year only 288 Hungarians made applications, with 22 granted.



Some Canadian officials say asylum has become a business, with middlemen charging Roma to arrange it. But nobody has produced evidence of this, and the Czech authorities say they have seen no sign. Anna Polakova, who heads Romani-language public broadcasting in Prague, says the claims are absurd. She also questions the idea that Roma asylum applicants are motivated by Canadian welfare payments. “Even if you have little, your family has been here for two, three generations. You know the language. We have our graves here,” she says. In her view, it is middle-class Roma who are leaving in frustration. “Despite all the talk, the fascists are walking down the street.” She herself considered emigration after her son was badly beaten up by skinheads.

The Czech record is no source of pride. Not only has far-right extremism been rising, but so also is segregation. A government study in 2006 found that 80,000 Roma live in over 300 ghetto-like communities, four-fifths of which came into existence only in the previous decade. Roma activists blame Jiri Cunek, a Christian Democratic leader and former deputy prime minister, for making anti-Roma prejudice acceptable in mainstream politics. A mayor of Vsetin in the east, Mr Cunek ordered the eviction of dozens of Roma families from a run-down building in the town centre into containers on its edge.

Recently police blocked a confrontation between Roma activists and a neo-Nazi march in Krupka, in the north-west. Last November a similar event in Litvinov, in the north, turned into a riot, with police fighting 500 right-wingers trying to get to a Roma neighbourhood blamed as a hotbed of crime. A firebomb attack on a Roma dwelling in Vitkov, one of three in recent months, badly burnt a 22-month-old girl.

Roma are suffering in many other countries in the region. Hungary has witnessed a spate of especially nasty murders. But the rich, well-governed Czech Republic, which holds the European Union’s rotating presidency, can surely do better.

Missile defence

A damp squib
Nov 20th 2008
From The Economist print edition


American missile-defence plans falter in eastern Europe

IRAN’S new medium-range missile, the Sajil, which was test-fired on November 12th, marks something of a technological breakthrough. It is fast and has a claimed range of 2,000km (1,250 miles). It might reach Moscow or southern Italy, say. Yet both Russia and Italy are opposed to American plans to place ten interceptor rockets in Poland and an anti-missile radar in the Czech Republic. The Italian prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi, has criticised the plan because it “provoked” Russia. The Kremlin has threatened to put short-range Iskander missiles in its Kaliningrad exclave (or possibly in Belarus, a close ally) if the missile-defence deployment goes ahead.

Raising the temperature even higher, Nicolas Sarkozy, the French president who (until the end of December) also presides over the European Union, said on November 14th that the American plan “does nothing to bring security and complicates things”. That infuriated his Polish and Czech counterparts, who noted that France signed up to a decision at the NATO summit in April in support of missile defence. They also questioned what business a French president had pronouncing on other countries’ security ties with America. Mr Sarkozy issued a partial retraction, saying merely that nobody should put new missiles in Europe pending talks with Russia about new security arrangements for the entire continent.



The incoming administration of Barack Obama seems unenthusiastic about missile defence as well. The president-elect says that he will support the programme “if it works”. That marks a big shift from the Bush administration’s policy, which is to deploy and develop in a “spiral” (meaning that bits would be deployed as and when they are ready).

All this leaves the Poles and Czechs who pushed for missile defence (against unenthusiastic public opinion) somewhat exposed. The Polish president, Lech Kaczynski, a strong supporter of the plan, claimed that Mr Obama had told him that missile defences would go ahead. But the Obama team issued a denial, leaving Mr Kaczynski, not for the first time, looking out of his depth. Radek Sikorski, Poland’s foreign minister, who clinched the original deal with America, flew to Washington this week to sound out potential Obama administration appointees in more detail.

Poland is interested not only in the tacit American security guarantee that a missile-defence base implies (important if NATO’s value to Poland frays because of German ties with Russia). It also won promises of American help with Polish military modernisation and of a battery of advanced air-defence missiles to protect Warsaw. If the Obama administration freezes missile defence (quite easy, given congressional hostility to the programme), other parts of the deal will be in doubt.

That is more galling since public support in Poland for missile defences has risen from 27% at the start of August to 41% after the Georgian war, when Condoleezza Rice, America’s secretary of state, came to sign the deal and toast it in Georgian wine. Some Poles feel, crossly, that Mr Sarkozy is speaking for Russia, not for them.