On 20th anniversary, a street of fear and hope

Under leaden skies, both ends of a Prague street became a gauge for the politics of hope and fear.

At 1:30 p.m. Nov. 17, one end of Národní třída was inclusive and celebratory, anticipating a joyful evening, while at the other end the muscled, close-cropped, black-dressed "might" of the far right gathered, preaching exclusivity and racial superiority.

As Joan Baez took to the concert stage to rehearse "We Shall Overcome" at one end, barely 300 meters away, about 300 far-right supporters barely concealed their menace. They may have mustered fewer spectators than a third-division soccer match, but why they were allowed to gather on this hallowed ground in the first place has yet to be answered.

Eventually, shortly after 2 p.m., the anti-riot police arrived clad in protective armor, giving them a Samurai appearance.  

The atmosphere was ugly. The police took up position in anticipation of trouble and ordered the far right to move on, which they did after lengthy negotiations, shouting obscene chants to onlookers on their way and punching a journalist.

As if the heavens approved of the police action, the rain stopped. Finally, a party atmosphere began to emerge, though events for families were nonexistent. Just why the state did not take a bigger role in organizing the day's events remains bewildering. Families congregated on the street from about 4 p.m. Chasing the motorized banana or toilet paper was a spectacle for children, but hardly entertaining. In a city that bid for the Olympics, the biggest public event this year, under a global spotlight, lacked state participation.

By the time the first marchers from Albertov entered Národní třída, just after 6 p.m., the crowd was forcing many people to seek refuge on side streets. No barriers had been set up to protect the crowds; large TV screens were badly located and with sound out of sync.

But carnival was in the air as the marchers filed past: Drums boomed, keys jangled, gestures of solidarity were exchanged and memories recalled.

As the march finished, the national anthem was sung as the consequences of what occurred on the same street 20 years ago sank in. Recordings of wailing sirens and dogs barking evoked the atmosphere of 1989. The music blared. Baez sang "Overcome" in English and Czech, but surprisingly few joined in.

Václav Havel appeared to tumultuous applause, spoke briefly and then departed, leaving in his wake a strangely muted atmosphere. People had come to Národní třída to commemorate a day to remember 20 years ago.

At times, events were moving and touching, but whether the state did all it could to commemorate the day remains an issue worthy of debate.

Tom Clifford can be reached at
tclifford@praguepost.com