Wednesday, December 20, 2000

For goodness sake! As we speed into Y2K+1, otherwise known as An Earth Odyssey, The Prague Post pauses for a cheeky salute to 2000. If our Top 20 seems subjective, random and slightly mischievous, that's only because, 1) It is, and 2) We wouldn't want anyone to take a millennium year too seriously. After all, the hype at this time last year suggested we might not even be around for another month, let alone a year. We are, alas, and so are many of this country's usual suspects. Change is not one of the post-communist era's strengths. That doesn't mean that the same cast hasn't provided us with entertainment and (on rare occasion) wisdom. In our highly-evolved rating system, gifts are good and coal -- you guessed it -- isn't worth its weight in fumes. Happy New Year. Czech national hockey team When Czechoslovakia split in 1993, no one imagined it would come to this: the powerhouse Czech Republic pitted against upstart Slovakia with the Ice Hockey World Championship title -- the World Cup of hockey -- on the line. On a warm May day fans swelled squares in Prague and Bratislava for what turned out to be a vast street party. Big brother Prague went into orbit after its team held off the Slovaks, 5-3. By winning, the Czechs became the only team in eight years to defend a world hockey crown. They now have captured three world titles since 1996. The cry on the streets was Mistri! , Champions! Before the buzzer, one woman in the Old Town Square crowd of 10,000 pleaded wistfully: "Can't we just let Czechoslovakia win?" Touche . The anti-capitalists A great year for anti-globalization activists. In Washington, Melbourne, Nice, The Hague and Prague (the list goes on) much rage was vented and many were bruised and battered. The violence was so media friendly that efforts by non-governmental dissenters to forge a coherent message about the poor and the environment was often drowned out by cop-baiters, who had the most fun of all. This is a pity for a truly global protest with many good points to make. In Prague, sticks and stones broke many bones, and the words were never heard. Another missed opportunity, but if you're anti-Establishment, missing opportunities is what it's all about. WHO: Andrea Veresova, Former Miss Slovakia What's love got to do with it? Lots. Just ask Jaromir Jagr. He was struggling to find his form with the National Hockey League Penguins until ... well, hello ... enter Veresova. The former Miss Slovakia, 20, made Jagr's world a better place. She called him "nice and gallant." She said she had no idea who he was when she met him. Poor baby. Meanwhile, she learned enough about hockey to know the Czech Republic beat Slovakia for the World Championship title. How'd she find out? Jagr told her. WHO : David Cerny, Enfant terrible Cerny, 33, has painted memorials to the Red Army pink, hung St. Wenceslas out to dry and strapped babies to Zizkov's telecommunications tower. Naturally, he's a shoo-in for the Chalupecky award for outstanding work in the visual arts (but hats off to the other contenders). Thanks for keeping life interesting, David. Now about those babies ... WHAT: Prague 2000 -- European City of Culture Pan-European lovefest to promote ... something. Moviegoers waited all year for the feature promised by the artsy P2K--ECC trailer. The logo appeared on projects of all stripes, from Staropramen's Millenium brew to Think magazine. Sure, some good came out of it: the Forman brothers' Purple Sails and Ctibor Turba's Street Theater Festival, for example. Next year, spare us the hype. WHO: Bob Joyce, U.S. teacher Back in Boston, he got more bad news. Brutally beaten in Hodonin in 1998 in what was widely perceived as an episode of skinhead violence (the attack was filmed), his confessed attacker received a suspended sentence. Joyce and the U.S. Embassy cried foul, but Joyce's efforts to moralize from a faraway land clearly tapped reservoirs of xenophobia and anti-Americanism. The trial judge even refused the assailant's offer to cover some of Joyce's medical costs. Mean streets indeed. WHO: Karel Gott, pop icon The 61-year-old suffered a major blow when the daily Lidove noviny called him a "zombie" unfit to represent his nation at the opening of the Hannover 2000 World Expo. When Gott threatened to cancel that show and retire, his followers rushed to his side with a swell of fan letters. Gott went on to sing not only the Hanover concert, but his first-ever show at a sold-out Carnegie Hall, and finished the year by picking up the Golden Nightingale award for pop vocals. Nice comeback, Karel. WHO: Frantisek Hezoucky and Temelin Depending on whom you ask, Hezoucky could be the champion of a new Czech energy boom or a purveyor of an impending ecological disaster. Hezoucky presided over the October launch of the Temelin nuclear power plant, which is to eventually provide over a third of the nation's electrical power. He was also the south Bohemian plant's unapologetic defender against environmentalists and Austrians who claim the facility falls short of European safety standards. WHO: Miroslav Gregr, Industry and Trade Minister The minister began 2000 hanging on to his office by his teeth. Analysts said he was pushed from decisionmaking, environmentalists were furious over the approval of the Temelin plant and foreign companies were calling him a roadblock to trade. But Gregr, 71, danced to his own tune, pushing a privatization plan for CEZ, then declaring Temelin his "personal success." His swan song? A new government agency -- CzechIndustry -- with no set funding and no discernable purpose. WHO: Prime Minister Milos Zeman Talk about being presidential ... Zeman is Central Europe's most-eligible police brigadier, a vox-pop role he hardly dislikes. He'd be arrested as an emission in smoke-free California. Undaunted, the prime minister, 56, bungles heavily through the Czech political jungle, heralding the triumph of a self-styled "dull" society. Yet Zeman is still the straw stirring the CSSD's beer. Nix him, and Vaclav Klaus does vaudeville alone -- again. And Klaus still can't dance. WHAT: Cesky Telecom Just as privatization of the country's telecom monopoly seemed in sight, Parliament cast aside EU recommendations and postponed the inevitable until 2002. The delay left Cesky Telecom in control of both traditional telecommunications and the Internet. Meanwhile, Royal KPN N.V. -- a Dutch telecom contracted to escort the company through privatization -- backed out. They cited market strategy problems, but it might have been a laundry list. WHO: Stepanka Hilgertova, Olympic gold medalist Seal it with a kiss, right? Hilgertova did. After she retained her Olympic gold in whitewater canoeing, husband and coach Lubos kissed her in her kayak, but she quickly waved him away. "We were instructed that we couldn't let anyone touch the kayak before referees measure and weigh it after the race, that's why I was hesitant to kiss Lubos in the water," she said. "Losing the gold due to a kiss would be too cruel." WHO: Josef Tosovsky, former Czech National Bank governor Where have you gone, Joe Tosovsky? Gover-nor Crown, 50, ditched the CNB for the Bank of International Settlements, leaving turmoil in his wake. First, Czech blue chips went south with the NASDAQ. Seconds (or so it seemed) later, Havel ignored Gov. Crown's counsel and elevated Zdenek Tuma to the CNB helm. The ensuing political bout -- featuring Havel vs. the Havelslayers -- hurt Tosovsky's cool legacy more than the Nosferatu-esque Mr. Tuma, who has interest rate hikes up his sleeves. WHAT: Investicni a Postovni banka IPB should have stood for Invite Pall Bearers. That was the mood in June, when dubiously run Investicni a Postovni banka collapsed. The belly-up was a nasty reminder that mismanaged capitalism can bite its masters. Though the government -- faced with panicked account holders -- averted a conflagration by taking over the bank and quickly selling it to Ceskoslovenska obchodni banka, it never should have been necessary. Taxpayers were taken to the cleaners, to the tune of 100 billion Kc. WHO: Milan Knizak, National Gallery general director Ah, artists ... King Knizak, 60, reportedly wants to do away with conceptual art at the National Gallery -- ironic, considering his roots in the liberal Fluxus movement -- and play up the golden oldies. With street demonstrations and articles in the international art press, young Turks are demanding his head. They should bear in mind that their counterculture would not be possible without Knizak's conservatism. Still, the neon lights on Old Town Square are a bit tacky, don't you think? WHO: Interior Minister Stanislav Gross and the police The interior minister with the teenage looks scored points. Gross, 31, was picked in April and built Fortress Prague in view of the IMF/World Bank meetings. It looked more like a ghost town when the populace vacated, leaving riot police and rioters to duke it out. The police showed restraint in fending off firebombs, then wasted the praise by apparently beating up arrested protesters. Gross and the police largely dodged accusing bullets, and both looked far better than a year ago. WHO: International Monetary Fund and World Bank Give them a break. Born and bred in capitalism's crib, they are reviled for their hyper-capitalism and its wastrel shortcomings. Their spoiled delegates came to Prague and were treated rudely by a clump of rowdies. That's the norm. But by many standards, bank President James Wolfensohn and IMF chief Horst Kohler seem more willing than their predecessors to make their institutions accountable, transparent and functional. They may not succeed, but the effort deserves mention and praise WHO: Pavel Dostal, Culture Minister Dostal, 57, had trouble with graveyards. He lost his temper, in print, with Prague Orthodox Jews protesting plans by insurers Ceska pojistovna to build on an ancient cemetery. A piece titled "When they were not Jews" poked fun at anti-Semitic stereotypes. Not smart. He also praised the Czech Republic's Hannover World's Fair pavilion, regarded by most as an expensive flop. On the plus side, the tireless Dostal worked to settle property restitution between the state and church. WHO: Petr Pithart, Four-Party Coalition's choice for Senate chairman Pithart is the new Mr. Opposition. The bearded Christian Democrat won big in November Senate elections as the Four-Party Coalition clambered up the political ladder. He'll probably become Senate chairman, which begs the question: Who cares? Pithart, 59, and his center-right buddies are counting the pox of voter dissent to cast out big bad rulers. But they'll need more than 25 percent voter turnout. And some cool body armor. WHAT: The Romany record In August, Anaztazia Balazova, a Romany mother of eight, was murdered protecting her children from intruders in their home in Zilina, Slovakia. It was another in a string of attacks on Roma that suggested Prague and Bratislava have light-years to go in addressing, and redressing, racism. Zilina Mayor Jan Slota had said earlier that the Romany population could be fixed "with a small courtyard and a whip." Such blase hatred, on the eve of 2001, all but invited Balazova's fate. WHO: Petra Buzkova, CSSD Deputy Petra scorned was no fun for Milos. First, Zeman's snippy attitude saw her leave as No. 2 in the Social Democratic Party (CSSD.) Then "Lead" flew. A secret smear report cribbed from Zeman's inner circle confusedly suggested that she'd been a sort of cross between Barbarella and La Femme Nikita in more piquant days. Buzkova, 35, sued Zeman (not for the movie rights). Revenge came in November, when the CSSD collapsed in Senate elections and she moved a step closer, telling him, "Here's looking at you, fatso." WHO: President Vaclav Havel The West's (one and only) authentic Czech hero, the sphynxian pope of the Vltava was better than his reviews. Good Soldier Havel, 64, didn't exactly shine during the IMF/World Bank meetings, where head-bashing was a fashion statement, but he kept Prague's EU lights inexorably bright. Lesser figures might have packed it in -- but the obviously ailing Havel believes in obligations, and morality. Which makes him anathema (as well as rhetorically incomprehensible) to most of the uncivilized world. Good for him.