Berkley Center

The Czech Republic, with Prague as its social center, has survived a fascinatingly tumultuous past and present, enduring four separate political regimes in the past century, in addition to wartime mayhem. Most recently, the leap from communism to capitalism has marked the city in the same way that an adolescent is marked, stunned, by the sudden switching from one phase to another in the complicated process of discovering an identity. Prague is proud of its Slavic heritage, its impressive catalogue of operas, ballets, and largely intact pre-war architecture. And yet, the city is still straining to compromise its pre-1989 traditions with free market ideals and exposure to global culture.

Prague’s unique character is much like that of a wide-eyed hero, leaping for the first time into a parallel dimension—elated to find himself inhabiting the world of possibilities he had previously only dreamed of, but at the same time regretful of losing the stability and familiarity of his former surroundings. Crossing too quickly from what was and what could have been, the Czech Republic is our story’s protagonist, transitioning its entire ideology from a conservative, Communist tradition to a capitalist future in just a few weeks. The social and economic changes from the Velvet Revolution occurred so suddenly that many Czechs no longer recognize the city as their own. Many locals feel isolated from central markets overcrowded with tourists, insulted that they must pay to visit national monuments, and disheartened that their Czech koruna might soon be replaced by the euro. Globalism and the modern marketplace are a jarring, disorienting phenomena for a country which was so used to being socially and economically confined.

The city’s political and ideological progression can best be summarized in their respective markers in Saint Wenceslas Square: “the place where the will of the people is expressed, where they protest, struggle, celebrate victory, or together face moments in which time seems to accelerate and the past, with a sudden leap, transforms into the future.” For most of the twentieth century, Saint Wenceslas Square has served as the quintessential site for Czech celebrations and protests, each movement signaling a drastic change in the country’s political history and social face. In 1918, Czechoslovakia’s Proclamation of Independence was announced at the top of the square, declaring the state’s independence for the first time in history. When the Nazis occupied the country in WWII, both Nazis and Czech nationalists used the square as a stage for their respective political goals. Once Czechoslovakia was liberated by the Soviet army and annexed as a satellite state, the in-state Communist Party more-or-less controlled local affairs until relatively lax laws called for Soviet intervention.

When the Soviets invaded in 1968, Wenceslas Square again served as the site for the city’s main political protests; the biggest demonstrations drew up to 250,000 people. Jan Palach lit himself on fire here in January 1969, protesting the Soviet invasion, the suppression of Prague Spring, and general societal apathy. Twenty years later, in what is fondly called “The Year of Miracles,” the Velvet Revolution involved at most 500,000 non-violent protesters in a day. Within just two weeks, the Wenceslas Square protests successfully expelled the Communist regime and democratically elected Václav Havel as president.

Today, Wenceslas Square is a functioning monument to this transition, a shrine to the most recent and extreme shift of socio-political ideologies, from communism to capitalism. Longing after lacking the sumptuous ideals of capitalism, late twentieth century Czechs embraced the promises for greater personal opportunities, the thrill of ownership, and opened Wenceslas Square to storefronts of international mega-brands. Today, McDonalds, H&M, Debenhams, Starbucks, and other popular companies run parallel to the sidewalks that once echoed with political dissent. Prague now is a hub of travel and trade, enticing wealthy tourists with beautiful, luxury amenities from a previously off-limits location. Wenceslas Square is sometimes called “the Times Square of Prague,” as a tongue-in-cheek reference to the establishment it mimics.

While I enjoy the tangible conveniences of this twenty-first century square, I also wonder how much of the big picture has really changed. As the city has a long history of leaping from one sociopolitical extreme to the other and wearing its respective face in Wenceslas Square, then will this current condition be able to last longer or more genuinely than any of the past others? I hear no protesters rumbling yet, but it is difficult to tell whether this get-rich-quick brand of tourism and consumerism is the right match for Prague. Only time, and some city-wide self-assurance, will tell.