I always tell myself I like Christmas, but the older I get, the harder it is to pinpoint why.
I think it’s 90% nostalgia. Memories of big, sparkly 1990s Christmasses, primary school discos, Wham! and Paul McCartney, relatives since disintegrated, communities since dispersed.
Present-day Yule is nothing like that. And my mounting cynicism and deepening politicisation have gradually knocked the baubles off what’s left.
When I was a kid, I loved the presents. Then I turned into a hardcore anti-consumerist. After that, I liked it for the food. Then I went environmental vegetarian (and developed a stomach condition that makes me feel sick whenever I eat anything that isn’t lentil and vegetable mush, but that’s a hypochondriac odyssey in of itself).Continue reading “I like Christmas, but I don’t know why”→
Talk about Marxism after Marx and most people will think of Russia – bleak, backwards, stiflingly authoritarian dawn-of-the-twentieth-century Russia, and the luxuriantly facial-haired revolutionaries waiting in the wings to knock it all over.
That’s where the first leg of our historical-intellectual bus tour through Marxism post Marx is going to start, but we’re going to spend as little time there as possible.
When I say the Left is obsessed with Marxism, what I really mean is that it massively overinflates the importance and contemporary relevance of A) Marx himself and B) the theory and politics of the Russian revolution.
The Bolsheviks lived a hundred years ago, in a decaying feudalistic dictatorship, and replaced it with something that, by all accounts, wasn’t all that much better.
It’d be nice to never have to hear the names Lenin, Trotsky and Stalin again – particularly since so-called Western Marxism, emerging from non-Soviet Europe from the 1920s onwards, is massively more relevant to the world as it is today, and woefully neglected by present-day radicals.
Years ago we were writing a trilogy of pontificating half-essays about a trip we made to the Czech Republic. It was called Politics and Post-Communist Silly Dancing, but we never wrote the third bit, due to contain the all-important Silly Dancing, thereby rendering the title baffling to anyone who happened to read parts one and two. Then, recently, we played a very small part in helping a sassy and streetwise young altruist from South Bristol get an EU-funded Czech volunteering gig. She was going to take almost the exact same route as we did when we were in the country – a flight to Prague, where she’d have a day or so to look around, then down the Moravian south-east via a very, very long train ride. And, interest suitably re-engaged, we decided to dig out the notes we’d once intended on turning into a part three and actually turning them into a part three – albeit served with a side-dish of thoughts on Communism as-was, capitalism as-is, and the need for an alternative to both we’ve had since (you can clickhere for part one, and here for part two).
Death by fascistically efficient train door wouldn’t be an especially pleasant way to start a four and a half hour train voyage across the Czech Republic, but you’d get quite a nice view as the unrelenting steel liquefied your innards, at least until your lifeless husk was eventually flung free within sight of the High Tatras.
Luckily, the Bemolution managed to slink aboard with a few nanometres to spare in the twenty seconds or so the carriage designer had considerately thought to allot on the off-chance a passenger might actually try and get in it. We then spent the bulk of the following journey squashed uncomfortably close to two diabolically snobbish Fabians from Kent, inwardly debating whether the company made the prospect of being crushed in the door slightly more appealing.
After a frenetic few days city-slicking around Prague, we were relocating several hundred miles south-eastwards to the Zlin region of South Moravia, scarcely an hour from the Slovakian border. Our little red speck of Somerset was celebrating twenty years of international friendship with this warm and architecturally distinctive border region, and an array of civic dignitaries plus assorted-hangers on had been invited to mark the occasion. Confusingly, a strange sort of Labour Party field trip had been grafted on the side, too – the political terrain back home meaning that most of said dignitaries were Labour councillors – and small-town diplomacy was being frequently interspersed with get-togethers with the Czech equivalent, the Social Democrats, or CSSD (hence the Kentish Fabians). Someone had dropped out at the last minute, so late they couldn’t get any of their money back, and we were offered their spot on the trip for practically nothing. And that was how, despite disliking taxpayer-subsidised jollies for elected representatives about as much as neoliberalised ex-social democracy, The Bemolution ended up rattling speedily towards a bewildering few days of civic pomp, folk-costumed gay abandon and lashings of 50% proof brain-popping Czech booze.Continue reading “Czech It Out: Politics and Post-Communist Silly Dancing (very belated Part Three)”→
It’s hard to pinpoint a geographical area with as turbulent and unpredictable a recent history as Bohemia, Moravia and Slovakia.
The Czech-Slovak experience of the twentieth century reads like an encyclopaedia of the various sadistic and deranged political projects humanity has been subjected to over the last 100 years.
The area roughly equivalent to today’s Czech Republic and Slovakia left the nineteenth century as a verdant strip in the north of the dysfunctional dual-monarchic state of Austro-Hungary, the Czechs and Slovaks just two of a plethora of ethnic groups contained within a relatively small but regionally influential empire.
It was as part of said empire that the region and its inhabitants were dragged into what was, at the time, the biggest, costliest, deadliest conflict in human history.
When Franz Ferdinand, the Austro-Hungarian Emperor, was offed by Serbian separatists in 1914, the result was a calamitous diplomatic chain-reaction.
Austro-Hungary threatened Serbia, Serbia appealed to Russia, Russia was militarily allied to Britain, and Britain had the same arrangement with France. A rampantly militaristic Germany, on the other hand, was not only allied with its Austrian neighbour, but was hungry for expansion. Thus began the First World War, in which over a million Czechs would fight, on the losing side.
Defeat effectively ended the Austro-Hungarian Empire. It quickly crumbled, and the Czechs and Slovaks declared their independence in October 1918, producing the First Czechoslovak Republic. Relatively peaceful parliamentary democracy then miraculously survived for almost twenty years. Hitler.
Unfortunately, in neighbouring Germany, the national psyche hadn’t taken humiliating defeat particularly well, a situation hardly helped by the degrading conditions the victors imposed on it with the Treaty of Versailles.
Bitterness and resentment were widespread. The unhappy result was the election, messianic rise then European predominance of one Adolf Hitler, leader of the National Socialist German Workers Party, or Nazis for short.
Around 22% of the population of the new Czechoslovak state was ethnically German – the areas they inhabited known as the Sudetenland. In 1938, Hitler demanded that they be turned over to the Nazi Germany, and, in one of the most divisive and bitterly lambasted foreign policy decisions in modern history, the major European powers decided to let him have them.
The hope was that by giving in to the Nazi state, they would satisfy its aggressive expansionism and prevent war – and, some would argue, give the Allies time to hastily rearm in case war was unavoidable.
On the first count, appeasement didn’t work. The following year, Nazi Germany invaded the western Czech part of the Czechoslovak Republic. More easterly Slovakia, meanwhile, made a flimsy declaration of independence. In reality, its new government was run by Nazi sympathisers, the fledgling Slovak Republic essentially a Nazi puppet state.
Soon the continent, and the globe, was embroiled in a conflict darker and deadlier than anything it has ever experienced – including World War One, which, prior to the Second, had been optimistically known as The War To End All Wars.
1939 to 1945 saw industrial-scale murder, obviously of millions of combatants on both sides, but also of the Jews, Marxists, socialists, homosexuals, gypsies and political dissidents systematically exterminated by a Nazi regime seeking to ‘purify’ the human race. Some of concentration the camps were in the Nazi-occupied Czech-zone.
Eventually, the war ended. The Third Reich went down in flames having drenched Central Europe in blood, and the Czechs and Slovaks could wearily add National Socialism to the list of warped political doctrines they’d been horrifically abused by.
Czechoslovakia reunited, and democracy was restored for all of two years. In 1946, parliamentary elections saw Slovakia swing to the Democratic Party, a group with its origins in its wartime anti-Nazi resistance, while a majority of Czechs voted for the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia.
The results were fairly meaningless, because just two years later, in February 1948, the Communists seized power anyway, and kept it for the next four decades.
Czech Communism self-consciously emulated its Soviet benefactors in the beginning. A heavily bureaucratic, smotheringly authoritarian one-party state pursued heavy industrialisation, and was enthusiastically Stalinist for years after Uncle Joe had been rejected across much of the rest of the Eastern bloc.
Heavy-headedness and unbending adherence to the Soviet model of development characterised Czechoslovakia’s first two decades under Communism. But this approach began to galvanise opposition, within the Communist Party and outside of it.
In 1968, the hard-line President, Party General Secretary and effective leader of Communist Czechoslovakia, Antonin Novotny, was replaced by the Slovakian reformer Alexander Dubcek.
Dubcek’s aims were radical and, within his party and the Eastern bloc more generally, deeply controversial. His self-declared objective was ‘socialism with a human face’, a more tolerant, permissive, democratic and characteristically Czechoslovakian form of communism, markedly different from brutal Stalinism.
Freedom of speech, of the press, and of movement was to be increased. Some elements of a mixed economy would be reintroduced. And, perhaps most radically of all, some democratic elections would be allowed in the long-term.
Left-wingers will likely agonise for decades over what might have been if the so-called Prague Spring had been allowed to run its course – whether, out of the unmitigated catastrophe of Soviet Communism, some kind of democratic socialist alternative to Stalinism and Western capitalism could have been salvaged.
Instead, Dubcek’s policies spooked the Brezhnev regime in Moscow. In August 1968, a Soviet-led force of Warsaw Pact troops invaded Czechoslovakia, with no resistance. Reforms were stamped out, and Czechoslovakia was subjected to ‘normalisation’ – the forcible return to the Soviet model it had dared deviate from.
Popular protests at the unwelcome Soviet intervention culminated in a student, Jan Palach, setting himself alight in Prague, but to no avail. Dubcek was deposed, expelled from the Communist Party, and sent to work as a forestry official. His reforms were reversed, and Czechoslovakia was returned to Soviet deep-freeze for another two decades.
But, in proving itself inflexible and unable – or unwilling – to be reformed, Soviet-style Communism spelt its own doom in the long-run. Over the next twenty years its unpopularity grew and, in 1989, it eventually fell in what became known as the Velvet Revolution, a bloodless popular uprising.
In 1993, having had its Velvet Revolution, the country went through the Velvet Divorce. Czechoslovakia split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, in a decision made by political elites that had little discernible popular support.
The governments of both new states willingly embraced the neoliberal capitalism so in vogue in the developed West, and economies grew, consumption skyrocketed, and both personal freedom and relative standards of living greatly increased.
Typically, Western histories tend to stop there – as if by finally coming round to bountiful liberal democratic capitalism, all the former-Czechoslovakia’s problems were magically solved. Suffice to say, as the Bemolution was to discover, they weren’t.
Toddling out of CSSD HQ after a trying couple of hours, the Bemolution pondered the nature of neoliberal hegemony, the New Labourisation of social democracy worldwide, and why both these factors are felt especially keenly in the Czech Republic.
The answer is of course Communism. Both the atrocious excesses and eventual collapse of Soviet-style Communism were taken by a lot of the Western world as proof that socialism was inherently awful, and that any alternative to Uncle Sam-brand free-market capitalism was doomed to failure. It’s partly this thinking, along with subtle sociological changes in affluent Western countries, that brought about New Labour and the so-called Third Way, intended as a new kind of social democracy fit for purpose in a neoliberalised world. Continue reading “Czech It Out: Politics and Post-Communist Silly Dancing, Part 2”→