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Conservative deputy Ivan Langer seeks his own road despite loyalty to Klaus By Kate Swoger
The former British prime minister's signature is kept in a glass frame. Only the date, November 17, 1999, accompanies it on the plain white paper. As Langer, 34, handles the memento, he recalls meeting his political idol on the 10th anniversary of the student demonstrations that helped trigger the fall of communism in then-Czechoslovakia and started the Civic Democratic (ODS) deputy on his path to Parliament. "She is really an 'Iron Lady,' you know," Langer said. "I can see her as my mother ... but I don't think she would have been easy to work under, especially as a man. You have to admire her." For Langer, who speaks polished English, Thatcher and former U.S. President Ronald Reagan are neo-conservative role models. He's even penning a biography of Reagan in his spare time. And the ideas they hailed -- individual rights, strict faith in the free market, minimal government involvement in society -- mirror his own political priorities. Langer, former Prime Minister Vaclav Klaus' chief deputy, became involved in politics as a medical student during the 1989 revolution. "Then I realized that if you want to change society, you can start during revolutionary times in the sports halls and the squares," he said. "But then you have to use the standard ways, through the political parities, through the Parliament, through the government." After finishing his medical studies in 1993, Langer entered politics. While studying for his law degree, he was a city councilor in his hometown of Olomouc, north Moravia, and as secretary to the justice minister. Then he took a seat in Parliament, elected in 1996, at the age of 29, and again in 1998. He's now a deputy chairman of the Chamber of Deputies and of his party, which shares power with the ruling left-wing Social Democratic Party (CSSD) under an "opposition agreement" coalition. "I followed all the steps from the beginning to the top. I didn't miss any of them," he said. "Maybe I went a little bit faster than usual, when you see my age." If Langer sounds a bit defensive, it's perhaps because he's often been called little more than one of ODS chairman Klaus' loyal lieutenants, a Young Turk cast in the mold of his imperious boss. "The ODS is concentrated around Chairman Vaclav Klaus," said Rudolf Kucera, a political analyst at Charles University. "And as for Langer's future prospects, I think others stand a better chance in the future." Others have dubbed Langer the crown prince of his party, a label he shrugs off. "We don't have a crown prince in the ODS charter," he said, a bubble of laughter creeping into his voice. "There is only one chairman and four vice-chairmen. I think some people would like to create some tension between Mr. Klaus and me." Langer considers himself distinct from his leader, a complement rather than a carbon copy. Critics of Klaus, 59, accuse him of arrogance and an abrasive political style. "I have different priorities," Langer said. "I think that together we can combine all the things that are useful for [the party] ... really big political experience, which Mr. Klaus has, and my age and energy." Accepting diversity His ability to be open to other people's ideas is another difference, Langer said. "I am more used to speaking to people, to listening to people and accepting different opinions than he is," he added, referring to the elder politician's autocratic manner. "It's very difficult to discuss, to negotiate with him. But on the other hand, if you want to be a real political leader, you must be strong in your opinions." Langer's recent notoriety originated with his role as chairman of the Chamber of Deputies media commission. He was considered a key backer of Jiri Hodac, who was named director of Czech Television (CT) immediately before Christmas. He resolutely backed Hodac in the face of accusations by employees of the state network that the appointment -- Hodac once sought the post of ODS spokesman -- was an attempt to exert political control over the stations. The tussle led to a protracted strike and to Hodac's resignation in January. In February, Parliament picked a new interim director, Jiri Balvin, and the Hodac management team was fired. Now, Langer insists on deep cuts to prime-time television advertising on the network, a move some see as retaliation for Hodac's ouster. "I don't think he behaves in an independent way," Kucera said. "He often seems like a person fighting in the interests of the private network TV Nova." But Langer denies any political motivation. For him, in typical Thatcher fashion, it's simply a question of keeping the state out of the advertising market. "[The state broadcasters] are stealing money from the private sector," he said. "My idea is really that public TV and public radio should be financed only through [subscription fees]. All the money that comes from commercials belongs to the private sector." Langer, like many of his generation, also differs from his political seniors in his style. While he's ready to spar in the sometimes-nasty Czech political arena, his edges are smooth. Leaning back in one of several cushioned chairs and munching on a grape plucked from a coffee-table fruit bowl, he speaks of a coming-of-age that is strikingly remote from this country's rigid communist past. "I hitchhiked all over the United States, even though people thought it was crazy," he recalled of trips he made in the 1990s. It was there that he refined his English. He also picked up Spanish roughing it in Mexico. Mountain-climbing is another passion. In fact, he proposed to his wife, Marketa, after reaching the 6,000-meter (19,340-foot) peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. One day, he'd like to tackle Mt. Aconcagua in Argentina, which at almost 7,000 meters is the highest peak in the Western hemisphere. His political goals are also imposing. He will seek re-election as a deputy chairman of his party at its congress this fall. He'd like to see the ODS win control of Parliament in the 2002 elections. And he covets the post of interior minister. If his plans for his career go further, he's not saying for now. "If you want to be a politician, you have to be ambitious," he said. "Anyone who says otherwise isn't speaking the truth." -- Petr Kaspar contributed to this report. Kate Swoger's e-mail address is kswoger@praguepost.cz By James Pitkin
A member of the Civic Democratic Party (ODS) and vice chairman of the Television and Radio Broadcasting Council, Stepanek likens the nation's foremost political analyst to a soccer hooligan whose ignorance is exceeded only by his audacity. "He reminds me of a golf player who shows up in the middle of a football game," he says. "At first he pretends to be a spectator, but then he starts giving the players advice and hitting them over the head with his golf clubs. And then he turns around and tells reporters how football should be played!" What earns Pehe such passionate responses is precisely what local and international media turn to him for: biting observations on the Czech political scene, usually delivered in blunt, quote-worthy language. Examples aren't hard to come by. "I think there's a basic misunderstanding of what democracy is about among the top leaders of this country," says Pehe. "They think once they're in power, they're free to do whatever they want until the next election. There is no sense that they're serving the people who put them there." This sound-bite approach has made Pehe, a former adviser to President Vaclav Havel, a favorite talking head among major Western media. His own essays -- he's penned hundreds since the 1989 revolution -- also make him one of the most prolific commentators in the local press. "This field is dominated by just a few names," says Borivoj Hnizdo, a political scientist at Prague's Charles University. "[Pehe] is definitely one of them. There are a few reasons, but the main one is a sort of courage. The others are simply too cautious." But Pehe's critics question his objectivity. Some say he uses his position to advance the interests of those he favors -- namely, Havel and the United States -- and to belittle their detractors, former Prime Minister Vaclav Klaus and his conservative Civic Democratic Party (ODS) foremost among them. An accidental analyst What Hnizdo sees as bravery, and Stepanek as brazenness, is merely Pehe following his intellectual instincts -- the urge to criticize that forced him into exile under communism. After graduating from law school at Charles University in 1980, he wrote a long essay entitled "The Totalitarian Character of Communism." He stuffed six carbons into the typewriter -- the most it could handle -- and handed them out to friends, who soon began making their own copies. "I never intended to create a samizdat publication," he says. "But after that I knew it was no longer possible to have a low-key, gray kind of life here. ... It was a choice between, in the best case, being a janitor for the rest of my life, and in the worst case being in and out of jail." Pehe and his wife, Jana, fled Czechoslovakia during a trip to Yugoslavia in 1981. Stuffed in the trunk of an Austrian couple's tiny Citroen, with luggage piled on top of them, they crossed the border to Italy. "We were half dead," he remembers. "We were in there for 45 minutes and fumes were getting into the trunk ... when we got out we actually collapsed; we were unable to stand. But we were in the West, and there were these two Austrians dancing around us and screaming, 'You're free!'" Thus began a 14-year odyssey in the West that began in New York City, where Pehe waited tables at a Czech restaurant on the posh Upper East Side and worked as a hotel clerk before saving enough money to enroll in Columbia University's School of International Affairs. After graduating with a master's degree in 1985, he went on to work for the New York-based human rights organization Freedom House as director of East European studies. He became a U.S. citizen in 1987. Pehe says his time in the United States was seminal to forming his political philosophy. "America is really the most democratic country on this planet. That's my firm conviction," he says. "When it comes to moral issues -- issues that matter and fighting for causes -- Europe is still no match for the United States." His pro-U.S. stance unsettles some of his colleagues. "If I compare United States interests and the point of view of Pehe, they are the same without exception," says Vladimir Prorok, a political scientist and analyst for the left-wing Social Democratic Party (CSSD). "It's a question of him being one of their boys. He's not objective." Pehe -- who holds dual citizenship -- says his views are just the logical outgrowth of experience. "I certainly don't work for America here," he says. "I simply understand American society and politics much better than most people here, that's all." Pehe returned to Europe in 1988 to work as an analyst for Radio Free Europe in Munich. While there, his reports began attracting Havel's attention. When he finally returned to the Czech Republic in 1994, his radio and television commentaries landed him an invitation to the Castle -- and eventually an offer to work as the president's chief adviser. What evolved between the two men Pehe describes as a close intellectual kinship. "When it comes to our opinions and our philosophy, we're in the same blood group," he says. "We became more than just a boss and his employee." But something was missing. Although he continued to write articles, Pehe sensed that his official position was undermining the freedom he had enjoyed as a pure analyst. "I was in a schizophrenic situation," he reflects. "I joined the Castle as someone who was known as an independent political commentator. ... But I soon realized that I had to become either a public official who has to keep in line ... or I had to leave." He helped steer the Castle through two politically stormy years. He advised Havel through the messy 1997 fall of the Klaus government, the interim government led by Josef Tosovsky and the formation of the controversial "opposition agreement" between the ODS and Milos Zeman's Social Democrats. He was present for the country's admission to NATO. Twice in that time, the ailing Havel was near death. Pehe finally resigned in 1999. His critics won't let him live down the Havel years, saying he remains little more than an agent for the man he once served. "He is a very dependent politician who's hidden beneath the mask of a political analyst," says Stepanek. "He's dependent on the circle of Castle politicians." Pehe is swift to fire back. "There's a certain group of politicians who deal with issues that are too complex for them," he says. "So they give people labels and say 'you're with the Castle' or 'you are this.' ... I'm looking forward with great anticipation to the moment Havel steps down [in 2003]. I wonder what I will become then, for these guys with their primitive categorizations." Moreover, Pehe makes no claim to being neutral. Nor does he conceal his wish to change the Czech political landscape. "I would like to think [I influence policy]," he says. "If you take any well-known commentator in the West, those are people who are influencing things in a great way. ... Once you gain that kind of influence, then you can make an impact, you can change things." Pehe is currently the director of New York University in Prague -- a job that affords him the time, and the freedom, to say what he wants. "To be quite egoistic," he says, "this is the kind of position that is very comfortable. It gives me exactly the opposite of what I had at the Castle. If you're an independent analyst, education is the best area to be in." Comfort is one thing. Rest is out of the question. Grimly, he describes the task faced by the Czech Republic before it is able to absorb itself into the West that Pehe so admires. "What I'm really concerned about is the quality of democracy in this country," he concludes. "You can have a democratic system, but not a democracy. It cannot be decreed, or ordered, or distilled from above. It's a process of gradual internalization. All you can do is slow it down or make it faster. Unfortunately, I think the politicians in our country are doing everything in their power to slow it down." James Pitkin's e-mail address is jpitkin@praguepost.cz |
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