Wenceslas de Lobkowicz
Wenceslas de Lobkowicz, 56, grew up as a political refugee in France after his parents fled Communist Czechoslovakia. Now, he works for European integration
I was born in Paris in 1953 coinciding with the death of Czechoslovakia’s first Communist president, Klement Gottwald. My parents got engaged in Prague but married in Paris in 1948 after fleeing Czechoslovakia, where aristocratic families such as ours were considered enemies of the proletariat.
My father had wanted to name me Václav, but the authorities would accept only the English or French spelling of the famous good king’s name. My two younger sisters and I grew up as foreigners with refugee status in Breuilpont, a small village in Normandy where my paternal grandmother was born. Her family had emigrated to Bohemia from Belgium in 1830 but retained a house in Normandy, which is where we lived. My parents, who never renounced their Czech nationality, decided that their children should hoose their own nationality when they came of age.
I always had strong ties to my parents’ homeland because of the education we received at home where we spoke Czech and German. We also learned the Czech national anthem, the title of which roughly translates as Where is my Homeland? At school, I only learned French, and the Marseillaise. My mother always said that attending the local school — where I made friends for life — was the major breakthrough in being accepted by the community. I have served on the Breuilpont local council for more than 30 years and return to the village frequently.
My ties to France are much more to this village than to the country or nation. I understood this when crossing Prague’s Charles Bridge one snowy St Nicholas day. The bridge was a bit slippery, but I beheld a wonderful landscape and realised that my heart is really in the Czech Republic.
As long as I was a refugee I was not allowed to visit Czechoslovakia, so my first visit was in 1974. At the border I spent one of the longest hours of my life in a small office with pictures of Gustáv Husák, then president of the country, and Marx on the wall while officials in the next room pondered why there was a Lobkowicz with a French passport. Fortunately, I was allowed to enter the country, and on that visit I saw family members from both sides.
My father was slightly puzzled by my decision to take French citizenship, but I did this largely for practical reasons since I studied political science and law in Paris. I also thought that I might work with the European institutions, and to do this you needed the nationality of a member state.
My first job out of university was parliamentary assistant for a member of the Assembleé Nationale, which was a fantastic learning experience. At the same time I began preparing for the European Commission civil service exam. Eventually I was offered a post with the transport directorate. After two years I transferred to internal markets, where I worked on the creation of the European passport. My father said it would be successful only when
he was able to have a European passport with Czechoslovakia on it. Sadly, he did not live to see the Czech Republic become a member of the European Union, but he knew that I was working on enlargement. Today I am responsible for cultural heritage in the western Balkans and Turkey, also for the enlargement directorate.
I live in Ixelles/Elsene with my wife, who is French with a central European background, and our four sons. When my eldest son was born in Paris 22 years ago, I was able to register him as Jan spelled the Czech way, which shows how much things have changed in my lifetime. Now a business student in Paris, Jan spent this summer working in the Czech Republic. It was his choice, and to a certain extent I am happy that I have communicated a consciousness about our heritage. I know from experience that when you decide yourself, it means so much more.
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