MOST, NORTH BOHEMIA

Two kilometers outside this city, the Chánov housing project stands amid dereliction as a testament to a social policy gone wrong.

It was here that the communist government 30 years ago moved some 2,000 Roma, or Gypsies, hailing from Czech and Slovak villages into this isolated conglomeration of high-rise panel houses.

"You basically can't leave this place on foot without breaking a long list of traffic rules," says Martin Nebesář, who runs The House of Romany Culture (DUMRK), a center in Chánov that organizes educational programs and counseling services for residents.

Chánov is often cited as the country's worst Romany ghetto — though Most officials don't like to use that word — and has come to symbolize the country's failure to integrate Roma into society. A hard truth emerges in these ghettos: While the government has preached inclusion in the years after communism, local authorities have gone in the opposite direction.

A recent report from the Labor and Social Affairs Ministry says that the number of Romany ghettos, defined as socially isolated locations, has increased 35 percent in the past 10 years. The ministry says there are now 330 ghettos in the Czech Republic.

The gap between Roma and ethnic Czechs has been growing since 1989, says Adam Pospíšil, a project coordinator at Romea, a nongovernmental Roma rights organization.

"As the economy boomed, the Roma haven't been able to keep up," he says. "Many of them lost their jobs as various industries were being restructured, and they lacked the skills to find new ones."

Some 85 percent of Chánov residents are unemployed, which is more than four times the unemployment rate in Most, one of the country's poorest cities.

Nationwide, social workers say Roma unemployment is several times higher than the national average, which hovers around 8 percent. The Labor and Social Affairs Ministry says a greater emphasis on education and work-training programs within ghettos could lower the poverty level.

But many towns have been loath to take the initiative.

The move proved popular with Vsetín residents, who had complained about the decrepit building for decades. But the mayors of surrounding villages complained when the displaced families were moved to their municipalities.

"For the mayors, it's the easiest solution. Many see the Romany lifestyle as irreconcilable with that of white Czechs," says Pospíšil. "Of course, the Roma are also partly to blame by not always being willing to cooperate."

Resigned expectations

Starting next year, Most city officials want to begin converting Chánov, half of which is now vacant because conditions are so severe, into a livable place again.

They plan to temporarily move out some of the 1,600 people who live there and construct small, modern apartments that would serve as affordable housing for low-income families or people on welfare.

Bořek Valvoda, a member of Most City Council and former Most mayor, says if EU funds don't come through, the city will need government money.

"Chánov isn't a problem that Most can resolve alone," he says.

But it could be a tough sell to Most voters, many of whom see such a project as a waste of tax money.

"It would be nice, sure," says 20-year-old Markéta Siráková, who grew up in Chánov and is one of the few residents with a steady job. She works as an assistant at DUMRK. "But they're always talking about repairing this place. Nothing ever happens."

Monika Laurichová, principal at Chánov's only elementary school, also sounds resigned.

Repairs and work programs are important, she says, but most of Chánov's residents have been unemployed for several generations now. It has become a way of life.