Today (17th November) is the day when Czechs and Slovaks commemorate their 1989 Revolution. Doubtless, this anniversary won't get as much coverage as that of the fall of the Berlin Wall last week, nor as much as the 20th anniversary of the execution of Ceausescu in Romania next month.
Nevertheless, there are probably more features of the Czechoslovak Revolution of 1989 which have a greater applicability to today's struggles for democracy and freedom, which I will explain shortly.
First, a little context. As I thought might happen, much more attention was paid last week to the actual fall of the Wall, rather than the forty years of hurt (for want of a better term) for the East German people that led up to it. It was rather like commemorating the end of World War Two solely with footage of V.E. Day parties. Like the East Germans, the Czech and Slovak peoples also suffered horribly under Communism, and we should remember those who either didn't make it through the experience, those who were gravely damaged by it, either physically, mentally or financially, and those who lost the best years of their lives to it.
I spent a lot of 1989 in Czechoslovakia. I was one of around a dozen UK students of the Czech and Slovak languages. In that year, I organised the first ever university exchange between Cambridge and the elite Universita Karlova (Charles University) in Prague, where I had studied myself two summers before. Around twenty Czechs came to Britain for the month of July, and we returned there for the month of September. I was back again in November (photo above), as the calls rang out for "Havel hrada" (Václav Havel to the castle, meaning the seat of government). Having been immersed in student life at the Charles University, and having met some of the dissident activists at various Prague theatres, I knew some of the people involved at the bottom end of the revolution, who were key in fanning out from Prague taking the message into the provinces in the weeks after 17th November.
Enough of personal reminiscences, however. There is no point having experiences unless one is prepared to draw lessons from them, and here are the lessons from the Velvet Revolution as I saw it then and see it now, and why of the three main revolutions of the autumn of 1989, this one has the most relevance today.
First, the Czechoslovak revolution was almost entirely non-violent. In fact, I think I am right in saying that nobody died at all. Enough has been written elsewhere about the importance of non-violence, but for the students of 1989, non-violence was both an end in itself, as well as a means. The symbol opposite (my camera in 1989 was poor) of the red line through the truncheon was seen all over Prague.
Second, that the Czechs and Slovaks through the dissident group Charter 77 confounded many sceptics, especially in the West, by actually seeking to campaign to make sure that their government abided by the international agreements it had signed, in this case, the Helsinki Accords of 1975. Nobody in power in the Soviet Union or Czechoslovakia expected anyone to take seriously their own newly-acquired legal obligations to safeguard the human rights of their own peoples - least of all the people themselves. For me, this shows that international human rights accords can and do make a difference, and why we should always seek to make dictatorships sign these kinds of agreements, as they give people suffering under those dictatorships hope and a legal basis for their campaigns.
Third, the importance of figureheads in revolutionary movements from below. Very few people can now name any of the figures involved in the East German revolution. The Eastern part of Germany has underperformed politically ever since, at least until Angela Merkel became Chancellor in 2005. In Romania, if the revolution could be put down to any one individual it was to someone who wasn't even Romanian at all, but to László Tőkés, the ethnic Hungarian priest who started the revolt in Timişoara. In Czechoslovakia, dissident playwright Václav Havel and even the former Prime Minister during the 1968 Prague Spring, Alexander Dubček, gave the movement names and figureheads. This revolution was a grassroots effort, especially as thousands of students, actors and actresses went forth from Prague to spread the message.
Finally, Czechoslovakia had the strongest democratic tradition of any of the former Soviet satellites. Between 1919 and the Munich Agreement in 1938, the country was the only functioning democracy for all of those years in any of the Central and Eastern European countries which would eventually join the European Union in 2004 and 2007. Indeed, its democracy in the Inter-War Years was one of the best in Europe. There was even a history of resistance to being part of a multi-national conglomerate state, whether the Austro-Hungarian empire, Greater Germany or, at this point, the Soviet Empire. Although the democracy had been extinguished 60 years previously, there was still a collective memory in 1989 which was important. Like Tim Montgomerie, I am wary of drawing exaggerated comparisons between the EU and historic multi-national European empires, but I for one know that Czech history would have weighed heavily on Václav Klaus as he considered whether to sign the Lisbon Treaty just a few weeks ago.
Finally, and back to the main point. Whilst for most of us, the lasting images of 1989 are probably those of people crowding on top of the Berlin Wall, partying amongst the fireworks, or of Nicolai Ceausescu's battered and pathetic corpse, it is the Czechoslovak Velvet Revolution, with its urge for non-violence, its grassroots nature, its popular figureheads and most of all its origin in the very legal agreements guaranteeing human rights signed by the country's tyrannical leaders which most makes it a model for liberation struggles across the world today.
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