Tere Englund - The Czechs in a Nutshell

About the author:

TERJE B. ENGLUND is a Norwegian journalist, writer and translator. Educated at the University of Oslo and the Institute of Slavonic Studies at Charles University, he has been based in Prague since 1993, covering Central and Eastern Europe for Scandinavian media. Englund is an affectionate cyclist, mountaineer and diver, and he also enjoys the company of his French bulldog, Gaston.

Oblka: Tom zek

Grafick prava: Karel Krsz

Sazba a litografie: AG Design, spol s r. o., Praha

Redakce: Vladislav Dudk

Lektorace: Karsten Korbl, Susan Legro a Katrine Lundgren

Tisk: Finidr s.r.o., esk Tn

Adresa nakladatelstv:

Prh s.r.o., Patokova 85, 169 00 Praha 6

www.prah.cz

Text Terje B. Englund, 2004, 2009

Photo Jaroslav Fier (18), Terje B. Englund (15), Ame Valen (2), 2004, 2009

Typography Karel Krsz, 2004, 2009

Vydalo nakladatelstv Prh, 2009

ISBN 978-80-7252-266-8

Photo Jaroslav Fier

I had been living in Prague for half a year when a colleague invited me to visit him and his family. Eager to make the impression that I was perfectly used to visiting Czech homes, I turned up with flowers for my friends wife and presents for each of his four children. So, when I saw the impressive collection of boots that were neatly lined up outside the doorstep, I immediately started to untie my muddy sneakers.

Oh no, please dont take your shoes off! the entire family yelled in unison.

Not knowing that many Czechs on some specific occasions say one thing while they actually mean something totally different (see: to their home.

Some months later, I was sitting in a .

His novels certainly represent a highlight in modern European literature, I babbled shamelessly. It was the most stupid thing I could have said. Not because I actually hadnt read more than one of Kunderas novels, but because I didnt have the faintest idea that 99.5 percent of Czech intellectuals regard it as a matter of honour to despise the now-French-writing novelist. When I finally learned my lesson, the beauty was already married to the red-faced Swede.

Amazingly enough, there are foreigners who have committed even bigger blunders than I have. Such as the East-Asian businessman who had just taken up the position of managing director at a Czech company. The first day in the new job, he was offered some knedlks the dumplings that represent the zenith of at a welcome dinner arranged by his new colleagues. Convinced that it was a small refreshing towel, the poor fellow started rubbing his face with a dumpling. Needless to say, he had a hard time regaining his employees respect after that performance...

Human consideration prevents me from mentioning even more juicy examples of foreigners making complete fools of themselves simply because they dont understand the Czechs and their culture or dont know the historic background and the main political events that have shaped their prevailing -view.

This manual is a modest attempt to meet such a demand, and also to warn non-Czechs about numerous pitfalls that threaten them. Some of you will probably object that it is too negativistic and critical, but believe me, this is peanuts compared to the flagellation most Czechs every day practice both on themselves, and to others. Their historical fate as a small nation in the middle of Europe, which for more than a millennium has been subjected to enormous political pressure from its surroundings, has rendered most Czechs rather cynical and often also disillusioned. Instead of asking how this or that catastrophe could ever happen, a Czech will ask instead why it hasnt happened far more often.

My immediate motive is to help fellow foreigners, be they or longer-term residents, to avoid some of the numerous blunders I have committed. In addition, I hope to share my affinity for a culture and a nation that spans the amusing and the ludicrous, the ingenious and the infantile, the modest and the megalomaniac, the open-minded and the completely xenophobic, with a reach that appears to be broader than in most other European countries.

Terje B. Englund,

Prague, August 2004

On a cold December day in 1996, the atmosphere in the Czech Parliaments Chamber of Deputies was tense. Rumours were flying that Jan Kalvoda, Minister of Justice and Vice Premier, had committed a shocking and unforgivable sin. Now he was standing on the rostrum in front of 200 curious representatives.

What awful crime would this serious and respected ) from some lugubrious business people?

It turned out to be much worse. As an educated lawyer, Kalvoda was fully entitled to call himself Magistr a Master of Law. But on several occasions, Kalvoda had been unfortunate enough to call himself JUDr. a Doctor of Law. He had even misused the title when he signed official documents. For Kalvoda, there was only one thing to do: to commit hara-kiri publicly. In front of the flabbergasted parliamentarians, Kalvoda declared that he was immediately resigned from the government, and that his political career was finished forever.

For many , political suicide might seem a somewhat exaggerated punishment for just upgrading a Magistr to a Doktor. Not so for the Czechs. In this country, academic titles are indeed a serious matter. And, whats more, they are almost a prerequisite for those who wish to make a career in politics or business, which, of course, indicates that Kalvoda is not the only title-abuser in this country.

The Czechs title craze has been explained by several theories. The Swedish writer and diplomat Ingmar Karlsson, for instance, believes it is a legacy from the Habsburg monarchy, when the Czechs, as a matter of national pride, did their utmost not to lag behind the similarly title-fixated , attached to education as a means of strengthening the young state. And, finally, the communist regimes foolish attempt to create a classless society resulted in an incredible inflation of titles, since people used them deliberately to signal that they, although moneyless and materially deprived, at least not were a part of the ruling proletariat.

However comic this title-mania may seem, a foreigner should take it deadly seriously. Not in the sense that an academic title actually guarantees that its bearer is an educated person. Some of the most vociferous racists in this country sport pompous academic titles (Ji Karas, a parliamentarian who describes as people who need urgent treatment, is both an Ing. and a JUDr.) and at least one member of the government plus several other big-shots have acquired titles for academic thesis which they very likely didnt write themselves.

The problem is that you may commit a social blunder of significant magnitude if you do not address a Czech with his or her proper title. Actually, more title-crazed individuals (which practically means a vast majority of the population) may even interpret your omission as a deliberate insult.

But dont despair such blunders can be avoided by applying one simple precaution: dont hesitate to address any person who doesnt exercise an apparently manual profession as Pane inenre or Pan doktorko. Of course, you might have a problem when meeting a person with two or even three titles (pane docente-kandidte vd), and there is an obvious risk that you could unintentionally upgrade a