Velvet Revolution: Thirty-six years after the fall of a communist system that ruled without limits and treated criticism as a threat, Czechia now faces troubling signs of democratic backsliding. Today, leaders intimidate, hate speech rises, and the far right openly signals its intention to revive methods of pressure, exclusion and silencing that the country believed it had left behind.
On 17 November 1989, Czechoslovakia experienced a day that reshaped its political and moral identity. Thousands of students and citizens confronted repression peacefully and ultimately forced the fall of a regime that had spent decades suffocating freedom.
At its core, the Velvet Revolution rested on a simple principle: dignity is non-negotiable. Moreover, it emerged from a society united by the demand for transparency, accountability and a state that answered to truth rather than power—without corrupt leaders steering the movement.
Three decades later, the country that prides itself on that revolution stands before an uncomfortable mirror. In addition, today’s political class faces scandals that, in any consolidated democracy, would immediately remove their protagonists from office.
Furthermore, figures who accumulate public threats, open racism, conflicts of interest, misogynistic campaigns, drunken televised appearances and ties to violent rhetoric are now one step away from becoming ministers. The contrast between the Czechia of 1989 and the Czechia of 2025 is so stark that many citizens now ask when behaviors once unthinkable became normal.
Macinka and the dangerous echo of the Kuciak case
One of the most serious cases is that of Petr Macinka, leader of Motoristé Sobě. He threatened a state office with the phrase “I’m going to start taking more interest in you” after the authority fined his movement for violating campaign rules.
Moreover, the phrase caused immediate alarm because it is almost identical to the one Slovak businessman Marian Kočner told journalist Ján Kuciak before his assassination in 2018. Although the Slovak judiciary keeps the case open, it is proven that Kočner intimidated him. In a region where a reporter was murdered for investigating corruption, a Czech politician using similar language should have triggered universal condemnation. Yet it did not. Consequently, Macinka continues to advance toward a ministerial post.
Threats, insults and alcohol: the new elite on the rise
The same leader has threatened foreigners on social media with individual deportations, publicly targeting a citizen named Sergio. He also appeared on television alongside Filip Turek while visibly intoxicated, insulting officials, women and journalists.
These incidents are not political folklore; instead, they reveal the institutional instability that lies ahead. Moreover, both men are part of the political constellation currently negotiating its entry into government.
When a Member of the European Parliament legitimizes violent racism
Filip Turek, MEP for ANO, has become known for statements that would lead to immediate expulsion in any European parliament. He argued that the attempt to burn a Romani girl alive should be considered a mitigating circumstance. His speeches are documented and have been condemned by human rights organizations.
In addition, photos and content circulated throughout his career linking him to neo-Nazi symbolism and praise of historical Nazi figures—material he has never explained convincingly. Even so, his political rise continues. As a result, he embodies the normalization of a language the Velvet Revolution rejected outright: language that categorizes lives by origin and appearance.
From xenophobic posters to pressure on public TV
Tomio Okamura, leader of SPD, covered Prague with posters portraying Romani children and African women as threats to the country. His campaigns rely on disinformation, xenophobia and constant attacks on minorities. For eleven years, he has claimed that Czech Television “censors” him by not inviting him to the show Otázky Václava Moravce.
In reality, the show’s editorial standards are under no obligation to give space to extremist discourse. Today, however, with the new coalition in place, that pressure has become a real threat to the independence of public media.
The immorality behind the “traditional family” narrative
Joining this scene is Jindřich Rajchl, leader of PRO. His record includes attacks on women, insults directed at journalists, ultranationalist speeches and the scandal of a sexual video he recorded himself. He presents himself as a defender of moral values, yet his public behavior shows the opposite. Moreover, his influence expands in a climate where disinformation and emotional manipulation overshadow facts.
Babiš: unchecked economic, media and political power
At the center of the system remains Andrej Babiš. His conflict of interest is the largest in the country’s modern history: he directly or indirectly controls the Agrofert conglomerate, owns media outlets, operates in sectors funded by public money and has been investigated for fraud involving the EU budget.
In any consolidated democracy, a politician with this level of economic and media power could not aspire to run the Ministry of the Interior. In Czechia, however, he can. Furthermore, his narrative centers on victimhood and the idea that institutions are persecuting him, despite Constitutional Court findings and oversight bodies clearly describing a structural problem.
Media independence under attack
Institutional degradation is also visible in the treatment of public media. Political actors demand the abolition of mandatory fees that fund Czech Television, repeating the pattern that dismantled press independence in Hungary and Poland. As a result, the push to turn public broadcasting into a tool of political power is incompatible with the values that guided 1989.
The comparison with the Velvet Revolution is not nostalgia; it is a diagnosis. Leaders of that era—Havel, Dienstbier, Uhl and Benda—had endured prisons, isolation and surveillance. They understood that freedom without responsibility is not freedom, and that power without ethics always becomes abuse. Moreover, Havel believed politics should be service, not business. Today, the imposition of private interests over the State, attacks on minorities, intimidation of journalists and the trivialization of racism outline a landscape that would have been unacceptable to the generation of ’89.
What remains of the Velvet Revolution
Deterioration is not abstract. Over recent years, Czechia has normalized actions that during the Velvet Revolution would have been unthinkable: public threats by politicians against officials and citizens; racist speeches delivered from Parliament; attempts to pressure Czech Television; campaigns against minorities using manipulated images; ongoing conflicts of interest that do not prevent political promotions; and a public debate marked by insults, disinformation and personal attacks.
All this takes place in a country whose democratic transition was built on the idea that power must be subject to strict controls and that public life demands responsibility.Thirty-six years later, however, the distance between the principles proclaimed during the Velvet Revolution and the practices tolerated in 2025 is the clearest indicator of the current crisis. It was not caused by a single party or politician; rather, it is the result of allowing, for years, the exception to become routine.