For Roma, a Revolution of Expectations

Slovakia's Long-Oppressed Minority Is Rising Up Against Stereotypes

The Roma settlement of Kamenna Poruba is one of the poorest in eastern Slovakia. There is no running water or electricity in most of the dwellings, some of which are one-room huts. (Michael Robinson-Chavez -- The Washington Post)

KOSICE, Slovakia -- When Ivan Hriczko strode casually into the Twelve Apostles, a fashionable restaurant in this steel city, diners idled their forks and turned their heads.

"They either recognize me from television or recognize that I am a Roma," Hriczko said. "Of course, if I was just the latter, I wouldn't be let in here."

Hriczko, a prominent television journalist, is a member of Europe's largest minority, the Roma, an impoverished and outcast population also known as Gypsies. For decades, Roma were passive in the face of hostility. But in Slovakia, times are changing. The country's recent entry into the European Union, adoption of higher human rights standards and economic progress have ignited among Roma a revolution of rising expectations.

"For the first time, we are standing up and asking questions. Why do Roma live as they do? We must find the answer. The time for diplomatic silence is over," said Hriczko, 24, who quickly made a name for himself as Slovakia's first Roma television news personality.

Pressure from the European Union, which Slovakia joined in May, to resolve ethnic inequalities has provided a new context for Roma demands. Slovakia passed anti-discrimination laws that month as part of its alignment with E.U. human rights standards, though the government is still debating whether anti-discrimination is compatible with affirmative action. Roma leaders are pushing for "positive discrimination," as it is called here, to reverse a legacy of exclusion. Opponents contend such favoritism is unconstitutional.

In February, Roma rioted when government budget cutbacks reduced welfare benefits. Mobs looted stores and police clashed with demonstrators. At the same time, Roma with access to education and jobs began to work against the notion that state spending alone could solve Roma poverty. A broader assault against the discrimination that condemned all Roma to second-class status was needed, they argued.

Roma are estimated to number between 350,000 to 600,000 of Slovakia's 5.4 million people, the largest percentage of any European country. Across Europe, Roma number about 10 million, with large concentrations in Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania, the Czech Republic and Spain. A series of migrations brought them to Europe from northern India in the 15th century, and their presence in the West has been characterized by persecution. In the last century, the Nazis killed as many as a half-million Roma across Europe in what Roma remember as "the devouring."

Separate From Society

Roma have long been identified with crime and squalor, and encampments of wattle-and-scrap-metal shacks. Recent studies estimate that life expectancy among Roma in Eastern Europe is 12 or 13 years less than non-Roma. A survey indicated that less than 1 percent of Roma in Hungary, Bulgaria and Romania have college educations. Roma attend high school at a much lower rate than the population at large.

Among the most cruel forms of discrimination against Roma has been the placement of their children in schools for the disabled. In some towns, where Roma are a small minority, their children make up 90 percent of the enrollment in what are called special schools. In the special school in Vranov, a town east of Kosice, half of the 130 students are Roma. Roma make up 20 percent of the town's population.

During a recent school day, Stefan Kalias, a Roma teacher, showed a visitor a 9-year-old girl he said had been unfairly assigned to the school. Asked to read a story, the girl recited haltingly but clearly from her textbook, finishing with a triumphant smile. "You see," Kalias murmured. "She shouldn't be here. She's slow but should be in a regular school."

The school principal, Renata Kopcekova, defended the placement of the children. "They are here because they have particular learning problems or behavior problems. A child that does not belong is not sent here," she said in an interview. "I don't have an explanation for the high percentage. It is not possible to generalize."

Kalias answered: "This is a way that Roma are being kept separate from society. . . . Once children get into this school, it is hard to get out."

Kalias lives in a small, neat white masonry house in a Roma suburb, a cluttered appendage on the outskirts of Vranov. A few sturdy houses like his are mixed with mud-and-brick huts as well as faceless apartment buildings constructed during communist rule. While some men trudged home from jobs in Vranov, many others sat idly on doorsteps. Barefoot children waded in mud puddles.

The white houses belonged to families with steady incomes, especially those who have earned money abroad. The apartment blocks contained mostly families living on welfare. Water had been cut off to them for failure to pay bills. Instead, the residents pulled water from a single well. Beyond these apartments, mud-and-wattle shacks stood chockablock on dirt lanes. They took electric power from a house whose owner was linked to the municipal grid. They paid him for the service.