Prime minister’s election unmasks Slovakia’s other face
At the West’s frontier and the rear of the RussiaUkraine war lies an area of Slovakia’s Prešov region called “the end of the world” because civilization appears to vanish. Prime Minister Robert Fico once dismissively said “nothing is there.” How ironic that the discontented voters of this region, Slovakia’s poorest and most populous, powered his bid to end Slovakia’s world as it knows it.
Fico ruled with one interruption from 2006 until he resigned in 2018 after the murder of a journalist prompted mass protests. He and his SmerSSD party achieved a stunning comeback on Sept. 30 after campaigning on pro-Russian and anti-minority rhetoric. Misinformation explains much of his rise, but not all of it. Every opportunist needs an opportunity.
I lived in Prešov during the war in Ukraine to investigate populism’s appeal. I came to know a contrarian post-communist country that historically sways between East and West. Slovakia’s people opposed Soviet-sponsored communism in post-World War II 1946 elections, and in 1968 the Slovak Alexander Dubček led Czechoslovakia’s Prague Spring reforms, ending in a Soviet invasion. But by 1990, having much to lose, Slovakia fought anti-communist privatization measures. While neighboring Hungary, Poland and Czechia democratized and joined NATO in 1999, Slovakia reeled from years under its semi-authoritarian leader Vladimir Mečiar. After 2008, when those countries elected illiberal and eurosceptic governments, Slovakia zoomed ahead by adopting the euro, ejecting Robert Fico, and electing the progressive President Zuzana Čaputová.
When Russia invaded Ukraine, Slovakia showed its pro-Western face. Things looked grim. A state of emergency was declared. No Ukrainian student slept. A commuting Ukrainian colleague, who hours earlier warned of catastrophe, couldn’t come. Instead, everyone expected millions fleeing Russia’s next conquest.
When my Czechoslovak family faced a similar situation in 1939, most shunned them. But Slovakia acted decisively, and opened itself to refugees. By traveling the region for research and humanitarian work, I met the team coming to Ukraine’s aid. Košice shop owners distributed gifts. A colonel-turned-real estate agent interpreted with skills he developed while training with the Soviets. Soldiers carried bags as directed by a teenage camp manager.
They welcomed a Libyan student who braved bombs and robbery, two women with “Yeva” the dog, and thousands more. “The end of the world” – a phrase we hoped was figurative – became a melting pot of the altruistic, eccentric and downtrodden. Slovakia received 283,000 people within a month when a resettlement structure barely existed. This was only possible with help from the public.
But this contrasts with Slovakia’s other face, which stems from strong communist nostalgia, high opinions of Russia and distrust of institutions. In rural areas, apathy and cynicism are widespread.
There, many remember the painful 1990s capitalist transition which pulverized a third of Slovakia’s communist-era industry and a quarter of its gross domestic product. In 2000, the unemployment rate was 19%. Livelihoods disappeared for the sake of promised progress. Simultaneously, Prime Minister Mečiar dragged Slovakia into criminality and obscurity. Conditions improved rapidly after his ouster in 1998. But that growth left some regions behind.
With a GDP per capita comparable to Belarus’, 11.4% unemployment, and many English-speaking Slovaks leaving for work, few in Prešov support Slovakia’s status quo. Some miss the perceived economic security of communism, curse the former government’s bickering, and resent Ukrainian migrants.
Many in the West ignored these sentiments. But Kremlin propagandists and the opportunistic SmerSSD, which champions “independence” from Western foreign policy and touts generous social programs, appreciated their power. Now, they threaten transatlantic policy and 30 years of progress.
There is hope, and Smer’s opposition performed admirably. But don’t underestimate Fico’s appeal. When you’ve lived through many regimes, are depressed, in pain, and destitute; when you’ve done everything right by the system you were raised in but awaken in another where it’s wrong, when your children speak a language you don’t understand and have left you alone in “the end of the world,” what do you think you have to lose?
Fico
Jay Rumas, of North Smithfield, is a 2021-2022 Fulbright Scholar to Slovakia, graduate of the University of Rhode Island in political science and history, and currently works as a refugee resettlement caseworker in Worcester, Massachusetts.