The Czechs in a Nutshell

So are Czech women today generally oppressed? Compared to some Western countries, there are still few women in top politics (among the 200 members of the Parliament’s House of Deputies elected in 2002, there were 34 women) and business managements. And those who have fought their way up must often endure extreme chauvinism (a newspaper cartoonist once portrayed the Social Democrats’ former vice chair Petra Buzková as a prostitute with the party chairman as her pimp). Moreover, Czech women are still paid less than men for doing the same job, even though the labour law strictly prohibits such discrimination.

Unfortunately, this goes for a lot of other developed countries too. In fact, when you compare this country with the rest of post-communist Central Europe, Czech women, measured by their level of education, which on average is higher than Czech men’s, their legal protection and their participation in decision-making bodies (more than half of the country’s judges are women), fare better than in any other state.

Generally, their situation doesn’t differ significantly from that in Austria, which, admittedly, isn’t exactly a feminist heaven on earth, but at least this comparison indicates that the need for urgent intervention is not as acute as several international activist groups in the beginning of the 1990s believed. Seen in a historic context, one can even, with some artistic liberty, claim that the first Czech state was established by a woman.

According to Staré Pověsti České (Old Czech Tales), a collection of historic myths published by the writer Alois Jirásek in 1894, the Premyslíd Dynasty of princes, who were later to become Czech kings, was founded when the strong-willed Princess Libuše ordered her guards to find her a man. The guards set off, and when they ran into a plain farmer who was ploughing his fields, they brought him back to the princess. Thus, Přemysl the hard-working ploughman became the fabled Libuše’s husband and head of the Czech principality.

But the story about Libuše and Přemysl can also be seen from another perspective. Thanks to her position as princess, there’s no doubt that Libuše was the boss, and poor Přemysl was only used as a convenient cover and sperm donor. In other words, it was an undercover matriarchy. A millennium and a half later, the Czech tradition of women letting their husbands officially act as tough macho men while, in reality, they are totally controlled by their bossy wives, is still alive and kicking. The famous comic Jan Werich once defined this balance of power very precisely: In my family, I decide all the important things, such as our relationship with Taiwan. My wife is only responsible for the rest...

Božena Němcová is another female monument in Czech history. Born in 1820 to poor parents, she lived a desperately unglamorous life caring for her children and hiding from her drunk and abusive husband. Nevertheless, when she finally managed to publish her novel Babička (Grandmother) shortly before she died, at 42, she became a national star overnight.

A somewhat cynical observer may find the novel utterly sentimental, and grandmother herself hopelessly bigoted. But the point is that not one single chauvinist stood up and brushed Němcová off for “just being a stupid woman”, and nobody complained that the novel’s grey-haired hero was as anti-masculine as it is possible to get. The probable explanation is that the novel, whether written by a man or woman, was first and foremost seen as a literary victory for the Czechs, who felt dwarfed by German cultural suppression.

Actually, this nationalistic aspect might have a wider importance for the relationship between Czech men and women. Jiřina Šiklová, professor of sociology and founder of gender studies at Charles University in Prague, points out that because of the Czechs’ long-lasting experience with foreign domination — be it by the Austrians, Germans or Russians — most Czech women don’t feel oppressed by men. On the contrary, they feel solidarity with them as compatriots.

Maybe professor Šiklová has a too positive attitude, but, on the other hand, she definitely knows what she is talking about. As a supporter of the Charter 77 movement, Šiklová and many other women resisted the communists with great courage and in total solidarity with their male fellow-dissidents.