In 1919, Poland occupied the Těšín territory, which historically was a part of the Czech Kingdom, but at that time predominately populated by ethnic Poles (55% versus 27%). Prague, as expected, reacted, and some 40 Czechoslovak soldiers died in the military clashes that followed. International pressure forced the Poles to back off (just as the Hungarians were pressed to leave Southern Slovakia), but the Czechs have worried ever since about being dominated by their bigger neighbour. This is probably one of the main reasons why the intended plan to federalize Poland and Czechoslovakia after the Second World War failed.
And finally, there has traditionally been a palpable difference between the Poles’ and the Czechs’ social structure. Thanks to its early and massive industrialization, Bohemia and, to a lesser degree, Moravia already had by the end of the nineteenth century a broad and relatively well-educated working class, while the influence of the liberal middle classes grew rapidly. The vast majority of the Poles, however, were still deeply rooted in the agricultural society, dominated by the Catholic Church and rural traditions.
This changed a bit after the Second World War, when Poland “moved” 250 kilometres to the west (which gave them control over a strong mining industry in the former German Silesia), and the communists launched a massive program of industrialization. Yet about 20 percent of the Polish work force is still employed in agriculture, most of them on small family farms. Thus, many Czechs feel it more natural and in greater accordance to their national identity to compare themselves with the urban Austrians and Bavarians (see: Beer) than with their Slavonic brethren in rural Poland.
Do the Polish-Czech relations prove Robert Frost’s words that only “good fences make good neighbours”? Not really. In the post-cold war era, the fences have gradually become lower, and Poland’s economic boom during the last decade has also been felt in the Czech Republic.
The ski resorts in Northern Bohemia’s beautiful Krkonoše (Giant) Mountains, for instance, are flooded every winter with tourists from the opposite side of the border. In addition to money, this development also brings some funny situations. Such as the elderly Polish skier who some years ago walked into a hotel reception in Špindlerův Mlýn. Unbuttoning his jacked, he declared with a loud voice:
The receptionist reacted with professional politeness, but the event is, nevertheless, a striking demonstration of the close, yet slightly distorted relations between the Poles and the Czechs.
Politicians
Numerous surveys conducted over the past several years suggest that one of the professional groups that the Czechs least respect and admire, is that of politicians. To be precise, they place them neatly between cleaners and army officers on the social ranking list.
Although depressing to the country’s honest and hard-working politicians, this result is not very surprising. The mixture of burgeoning corruption, deep-rooted egalitarianism and scepticism towards anybody who claims to be sincerely lighting for some noble and non-monetary ideals has created a widespread suspicion about any politician’s true motives.
Frankly, quite a few of the politicians who emerged after the Velvet Revolution have behaved in a way that does not exactly allay the common taxpayer’s distrust (see: Pepa from Hong Kong).
This common disdain has, obviously, its roots in the era of communism, and it can be described in lengthy studies. Here, however, we will put it in a nutshell:
In the communist society that collapsed in 1989, political influence gave you money. In a Western, capitalist society, money gives you political influence. In a post-communist, neo-capitalist country like the Czech Republic, money gives you political influence, while political influence ranks just behind the lottery as the fastest way in which a commoner can get rich without working too hard (see: Personal Connections).
Religion
The statistics’ message is unambiguous: there is probably no other country in Europe with a higher density of atheists and non-religious people than the Czech Republic. In 1991, almost 40 percent of the population stated that they had no religious affiliation at all. Ten years later, the National Census showed that the number of non-believers had reached a record 60 percent of the population! Quite an achievement compared to neighbouring Poland, Bavaria, Slovakia and Austria, where people take great pride in presenting themselves as good Catholics.
Why have the Czechs become so thoroughly secularised? As you might guess, it’s not only because the Pope wears funny hats, but because of historic reasons. Let’s move some 600 years back in time.