I, like you, have met many former "exiles" in this fantastic small town.

People, who due to circumstances beyond their immediate control, were compelled to hit the high road on 'outta here -- the former Czechoslovakia, that is -- getting the hell out of Dodge.

At best, many carried just the rucksacks slung over their shoulders. If they flew out of here, it was often with just a single suitcase stuffed to bursting with only the most cherished of keepsakes.

Some even left with just the clothing on their backs, stuffed, as they were, into the cramped trunks/boots of cars as they sped across the Austrian or German border away from the oncoming Soviet-lead invaders and their KSC hardliner cronies.

You've heard all the stories, too, so I'm not telling you anything new. About people who got the heck out of here just in the nick of time, ahead of the cavalry charge, before the People's Republic hermetically sealed its borders.

Exiles, such as the ones described above, are constantly heckled for their so-called abandonment of their brethren.

I've sat gobsmacked over steaming cups of Illy coffee or iced Becherovka, listening to the sordid tales of just-in-the-nick-of-time flight from the razor-sharp jaws of oppression by several former exiles. Then, of their eventual return to these blessed Czech lands -- now conveniently referred to as the "Czech Republic" -- and how they were branded from all sides as traitors. Traitors for leaving their fellow Czech (and Slovak) brothers and sisters to contend with the bewildered occupation forces. Benedict Arnolds for avoiding the harsh "normalization" period that quickly followed, a mainstay of 1970s Ceskoslovensko. How they were dishonest for refusing to tolerate the invasion nor accept as their destiny the past horrors of the Protectorate or White Mountain. Occasions, both, where local Praguers and Czechoslovaks were emasculated into insignificance.

History will judge the treatment these returnees were subjected to (a short 15 years ago, in some cases). That is hardly for me to judge, for I am nothing but a non-Czech Czech, citizen in name, though not in blood.

And blood, folks, is what counts around these parts. That, too, is clear.

In the tornado of ink spilled and efforts wasted in pointing the accusing finger at these former exiles, has anyone ever paused to consider what these emigrants had to face on the receiving end of their flight? What life was like for them in the host countries of the West, nations like the US, Canada, West Germany, France, the UK, and Australia? It was hardly ideal. Books have even been written by the more famous in this group.

Let's take the example of a young twenty year-old girl. Born in a small town just outside of the capital, with zero English, French, nor German language skills.

During the sit-ins on the Vaclavak during the '68 Spring, she sat awed sitting on one of the nearby kerbs, watching how tens of clueless East German and Bulgarian soldiers fired their Kalashnikovs aimlessly -- on direct orders from Moscow -- into the gathering protesting throngs in the Square. Blood spattered her clothing and her face, shellshocking her.

Right then and there, she decides she must leave this villainous place. Her mother and grandmother have been reassuring her of same for a while now from their little Central Bohemian village, entreating her to find a way out of the rapidly-devolving hellhole which was the then former Czechoslovakia.

She encounters a group of Italian socialists in the crowd, who notice her blood-stained clothing and they hustle her away from the tanks and the action in the square. They beg her in rapidfire Italian mixed with broken Czech that she needs to leave this place, as the mighty roar of Antonov transport planes meld into the chaos of tank treads clickety-clacking on the saintly Prague cobbles.

They offer to secret her out of the country in the trunk of their little Fiat, demonstrating how they've jerry-rigged a small porthole in the boot so that the boot's occupant can breathe normally. They tell her that if she has any hope of getting out of Czechoslovakia, she has to leave now.

Without hesitation, she agrees...

FADE TO BLACK.

CUT TO:

A month later, she finds herself on the West Coast of Canada, in Vancouver.

The Pacific Coastal city is caught up in the heady '60s, as Age of Aquarius bearded hippies roam the mountainous streets. She doesn't speak a coherent sentence of English, but makes her wishes known through a variety English phrases she's learned, mixed with several smiles and some handy gesticulations.

She finds a job working in a classy diner, wiping the crud off of dirty dishes, as she spills their luxurious half-eaten contents into an awaiting bin. To the customers in her restaurant, Czechoslovakia is somewhere in the middle of "Russia," just like all the other nations under the Warsaw Pact umbrella.

It takes her a couple more years to make any headway, but by Year Two she finally manages to speak English well.

She begins to contemplate making a life for herself in this cold, yet strange, adoptive nation...

~~~~

Living in exile was not always pretty. In fact, in many cases like the one described above, it was downright harrowing.

Nearly every single one of the English-language press agencies in the Czech Republic is has been referring to 2008 presidential hopeful Jan Svejnar as the "former exile."

Why?

References to Mr. Svejnar's pedigree is nothing short of a low political blow. Reading qualifiers next to his name about something which was clearly a personal choice for Mr. Svejnar is 100% unacceptable in a democratic society.

I'd expect this kind of skullduggery from the mainstream, petty Czech press. As its "special" way of discrediting Mr. Svejnar's professional capabilities and aspirations. You know, those daily newspapers who are in the back pockets of the fat cats over in Mala Strana, those which brand Svejnar with the heavy "exile" moniker (as if the man's got some kind of communicable disease like HIV, a virus still regarded in this country as some kind of Western-inspired fabrication against pure Czech hedonism).

Why are "former exiles" still treated like misanthropes in this country?

Nearly four years after joining the EU and eighteen years following our non-violent Revolution (an example for the world), we are still tarring those who sought freedom and happiness in adoptive lands with the same sickly brush.

Is Mr. Svejnar and those like him to be blamed for wanting the best for themselves and their families? Would you not have done the same had you the chance to leave? The Czech people may have had a martyr's past, but they certainly do not have a martyr's destiny.

Regardless of whether Mr. Svejnar is a dyed-in-the-wool economic Friedmanite, or from the less disaster capitalist Keynesian school of same, this must be entirely unrelated to his past political choices.

If anything, the incumbent Czech president is the true neo-con, as evidenced by his much-publicized pronouncements. So much for the accusations levelled against Pan Svejnar for being some sort of US stooge...

All this "exile" rubbish reminds me of 1952's Slansky (show) Trial. The falsely-accused fourteen defendants of the day were not only indicted with the most outlandish roll call of cooked-up crimes against their State, but were also -- in 11 of these 14 cases -- branded as being "of Jewish origin." For those who have studied the era well, this was the epitome of journalistic skullduggery.

I still see this kind of rubbish in the Czech press when referring to patriots like Jan Kaplicky ("London-based, but of Czech origin") or Pani Navratilova, "of Czech origin" (and perhaps this is her choice).

This serves no useful purpose.

It's high time we begin to realize that those returnees who spent sizable portions time abroad have enriched our society in ways far beyond the wildest theorizing of even the savviest of game theorists.

These various exiles are some our most fortunate accidents.

May more of them run for Parliament, and may more of them get elected. Maybe we can finally get a jump on the 50 years TGM said we'd need to understand true Czechoslovak democracy.