You have to hand it to Miloš Zeman: as Czech president, he is as entertaining as all his colleagues in Europe. While our brave politicians put their fellow citizens to sleep this festive season with good wishes under Christmas trees and with predictable appeals to the common good, Zeman’s Christmas address seemed like a satire of the whole genre.
There sat an elderly gentleman in his decorated living room, giving a grim lesson to his subjects — or rather the whole world — in a rough vodka voice: The current wave of refugees is not a state of emergency, but a long-planned invasion. The young Arabs should — like Czech patriots during World War II — defend their country with weapons, rather than escaping to the West.
There was no trace of Christmas clemency or mercy. The president’s surreal quarter hour speech ended like a parody of charity: The Czech Republic does not exist for everyone; it will not let the needy in. Afterward, there was scarcely a grin to greet the New Year — and it was finished.
In Germany, the outcry would have been great and after this appearance, Zeman’s political career probably would have ended. But in other countries, the people are slow to become angry with eccentrics, even those in high places, because in the discourse, their language is not limited by old taboos. Of course Zeman’s gruff nature made numerous Czechs furious. On one occasion, artists at the Prague Castle hoisted a huge pair of red underpants instead of the national flag.
And Zeman’s old rival for the presidency, Karel Schwarzenberg, commented with resignation, “What a pity, when a Christmas message has absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.” The non-Christian Zeman didn’t even bother with religious comments, he didn’t mention baby Jesus, and as he sees it the world is unsophisticated. Now is that a scandal?
It can be observed worldwide that bullies and eccentrics shake up the political business. How dreary the cogs of the American pre-election campaign would already be without Donald Trump! Not only for media professionals, or even for the bored Internet community; it is a godsend, when here is a candidate for the highest office, who offends the Latino minority with gusto, kicks out an unpopular journalist, and apparently says whatever surprising thing runs through his brain.
Atom Bombs Against Arabs
Other candidates for the White House who dropped out divulge whimsical worldviews. The Holocaust could have been avoided had gun laws been more lax to allow European Jews to privately arm themselves. The Berlin Wall belongs on the Mexican border. Global warming is a cognitive disorder. And disobedient Arabs can be helped the most through nuclear bombs.
Should someone with similar views actually obtain the reins of power, there would be cause for concern. However, the vast media universe has not yet perceived that Trump deliberately uses his verbal attacks as a promotional strategy.
The behavior is then considerably more rational. Altogether it should be stated that eccentrics cause less damage in power than would be expected. Silvio Berlusconi was extensively preoccupied during his long term with young girls of dubious morals and appointing show stars to ministerial positions.
Instead of deeply pondering late into the night about filing in at the office, he was amused at private parties, took care of his Milan football club, or he was out of action for weeks due to cosmetic surgery. Italy’s daily politics were hardly harmed by these escapades; at all times there was a functioning bar and enough professional politicians.
Truly remarkable is this: Not even Berlusconi’s popularity suffered through his bunga-bunga policy. He would have been re-elected had he not been first removed from his position first by a party revolt. Apparently a million Italians were pleased with their anti-political and glamorous ego trip of a prime minister. And since his retirement, the media have been lacking in juicy stories from the demimonde between prostitution and politics.
Could it be that the serious business of governance is notoriously overestimated? Belgium recently had about one and a half years with no functioning government. And yet everything in the state worked brilliantly, because finally no politicians were botching the work of officials and technocrats.
Even Germany’s happiest phase in its rich history of disasters occurred under Heinrich Lübke, a recognizably bumbling president who could not formulate a clear sentence, and even once forgot what city he was in altogether. And yet under an anti-despot from the Sauerland region there was a more daring democracy, women’s rights were finally demanded, and there were more relaxed conditions for worried and rebellious students.
This is why Czechs do well to cope with the president least desired by the people, the chaotic President Zeman. A Czech national hero, a brave soldier named Schweik,* has shown the way — in literature — that one can become disenchanted with obtuse ministers. Zeman, whose mental and physical ruin via alcohol the newspapers have already attested to, does not give up in any case.
Just in time for the end of the year, the president-gone-wild bombed an interview, saying that the Czech Republic will join the European Monetary Union the day that Greece finally flies out. The immediate result was an offended Greek ambassador in Prague, which is not something the Greeks like to admit, as they themselves are politically coarse and not at all squeamish.
And here we come to the quite invigorating event of a state’s political wrong turn along the regulated road of diplomacy. As resistant to counsel as President Miloš is — one can’t stick any labels on him — at least he speaks about taboo topics, rather than being afraid of his colleagues. If all those responsible, against their better judgment, sound off about the recovery of the Greek economy, then Zeman’s lapse about the bankrupt Greeks is almost soothing.
We Must Endure Such Figures
If the president of a European nation doesn’t just talk nicely about how the refugee crisis is a humanitarian and economic opportunity, but rather portrays it as a sinister conspiracy and invasion, then he is expressing the view of millions of Europeans who otherwise feel excluded from the discussion. Any democracy must be able to reproduce and sustain this dissent.
To the German public, “populism” describes Zeman’s behavior. All politicians want to be popular, and not merely populist. Then they are right, because brute suggestions à la Trump and Zeman provide no viable solutions in government business. But should that also mean that all polemics and provocations are to be eradicated from free speech? Unwelcome opinions ultimately belong to democracy; they are salt on the bland alphabet soup of political monotony.
A populist like Zeman shows us the danger of political boredom. Namely, if all the officials are anxiously probing the framed linguistic terrain, as they are in Germany, if in the talk shows there are only a few small handpicked groups of the same well-meaning empty-phrases, if only smiling insurance agents acting as politicians are suitable, and if eccentric thoughts and behavior are forced to remain outside the mainstream, then democracy will eventually fade. And then the economy of the populists will really be no surprise.
* Editor’s note: This is a reference to “The Good Soldier Schweik,” a satirical and dark comedy by Jaroslav Hašek.
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