During the first ten years after the Velvet Revolution, the number of vehicles on Czech roads — mainly thanks to enormous imports of used cars of dubious quality from Germany — grew more than it did during the entire century before 1989. Today, auto density in areas like Prague is one of the highest in Europe, while the average car is older than modern safety inventions such as airbags or ABS brakes.
And then there’s the issue of money, of course. With all those tunnelled banks to save, the state simply lacks the funds to pay for improved road quality, roundabouts, more police controls (some 10 percent of the people who annually die in traffic accidents are killed by drunken drivers) and even such basic safety measures as traffic lights. And finally, it’s a question of education. But Pepa can hardly be blamed for the fact that Czech auto schools are somewhat outdated.
What can be done to curb the grim death toll? Abolishing the speed limit on highways or raising it to 70 km/h at night in inhabited areas, as a group of right-wing politicians (see: Pepa from Hong Kong) suggested some years ago, might not be the correct answer.
The Ministry of Transport, on the other hand, came up with a somewhat better idea when it presented a new traffic law, introducing such revolutionary novelties as pedestrian priority on zebra crossings, the obligatory use of children’s safety seats and helmets on motorcycles, cars using lights in the day-time, the banning of speaking on mobile phones whilst driving and the abolition of anti-radar devices. The draft law triggered a heated debate in the Parliament, but eventually, it was adopted with some minor adjustments.
So, will it work? Václav Špička, of the Czech Auto Club, believes it will. But not without some help. “We won’t achieve a radical improvement until driving safely becomes a social convention,” he told Czech media right after the new law was adopted. “Just as it’s not accepted to spit on the floor, it must be conventional that you don’t behave like a hooligan behind the wheel.”
This certainly sounds nice, but, unfortunately, there are few signs that an improvement is imminent. In October 2003, Czech traffic police carried out the largest crackdown in its history. The effort had, unfortunately, a minimal effect. During the following weekend, 25 persons — including three police officers — were killed in accidents, and the death toll on Czech roads had set yet another dark record.
Egalitarianism
If you happen to meet a Czech acquaintance on the street, he or she will probably greet you with the obligatory Jak se máš? (How are you?).
As in most other places on earth, this question does not necessarily reveal any deep interest in your person, but should rather be considered a common expression of social convention. And after all, the Czechs are apparently more polite than most people in Western Europe, taking extreme care to greet even the most distant acquaintance with an obligatory phrase (they are also extremely good at being rude — see: Cursing).
Yet this seemingly innocent Jak se máš? may represent a dangerous pitfall for the unsuspecting foreigner. In most Western countries, and especially in the US, you would try not to be too negative, stating something that makes you look successful and happy even though you’ve just been kicked out of your job or your wife has left you for your oldest pal.
With the Czechs, however, the problem is the opposite. If you don’t want to bother people with your personal problems and therefore answer something like Thanks, I'm really fine — life is just marvellous! your friend will probably reward you with a compassionate smile, and inwardly snort Jesus Christ, what a swaggering idiot!
This reaction is obviously a remnant of the communist era, when no sane person had any reason to be very happy or satisfied. Consequently, revealing a negative and pessimistic attitude towards life (see: Scepticism) only meant that you were a completely normal person. And even though the communist regime, thank God, now belongs to history, lots of Czechs are apparently still anxious not to be perceived as too positive or satisfied.
Some pundits will say that the main reason for this behaviour is envy. And as “evidence”, they’ll tell you the old anecdote about a global survey where sociologists tried to establish what people in a number of different countries wished for the future. To the French, nothing was more important than peace on earth, the German longed to solve the problems of the Third World, while the Czech respondent wished of all his heart that his neighbour’s goats would kick the bucket.
There are those foreigners who don’t consider this as a bad joke, but as a cruel reality. Try to buy a new and impressive car, they’ll say. Park it on any public space in the Czech Republic, and then wait and see how long it will take until somebody, just out of pure envy, will make a long and ugly scratch in the enamel with a one-koruna coin. Maximum half an hour, the most pessimistic will say, adding that for the common Czech, envy is an even stronger urge than the sexual instinct.
Of course, this phenomenon can be explained with greater leniency towards the Czechs. Actually, it may seem that they are having a long-lasting and passionate love affair with the zlatá střední cesta (the golden, middle of the road). And the reason for this can probably be found in Czech history. Since most of the local nobility fled the country after the Battle of White Mountain in 1620, the remaining Czechs became a socially and economically very homogenous lot.
So, while other nations got their elite from the nobility, the Czechs made farmers and townspeople or even artists (see: Mácha, Karel Hynek) their aristocracy. This process was fuelled by industrialization, which in Bohemia started earlier and on a far more massive scale than in any other part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
As a result, a vast proletariat, where everyone was equally rich (or, if you’d like, equally poor) as his neighbour, was created. Needless to say, the communists’ attempt to build a classless society didn’t exactly make the average Czech more tolerant towards people being better off.
One shouldn’t, of course, take this middle-of-the-road theory too far, but it’s tempting to make one more point: it may seem that the strong fixation on equality and the corresponding aversion to everything that goes beyond the average (i.e., what’s not commonly accepted as main stream) have led to a certain timidity towards the new and unknown (see: Foreigners).
Radical changes, be it in politics, fashion, architecture or whatever, are not good. “The status quo may have its bad sides,” the saying goes. “But at least we know what we have, and things could always be far worse.” Considering the Czechs’ turbulent history, this attitude seems if not extremely brave, at least understandable.
Call it a deeply rooted sense of egalitarianism; call it envy or aversion against extremes or even a combination of all three. In any case, foreigners should learn a basic lesson. If you ostentatiously present yourself as better, richer, more successful or even different than the common herd, you’re not only making a fool of yourself, but also provoking your surroundings.
Certainly, nothing prevents you from actually being better, richer and more successful — as long as you don’t show off! Logically, the expected and non-provoking answer to Jak se máš? fully corresponds to the Czechs’ aversion of extremes: Ujde to — I’m doing fairly good.