The Economist

November 25th- December 1st 2000

(page 47-48)

Prague- THE striving of countries in Central Europe to enter the European Union may offer an unprecedented chance to the continent's Gypsies (or Roma) to be

recognised as a nation, albeit one without a defined territory. And if they

were to achieve that, they might even seek some kind of formal place-at

least a voice-within the EU's institutions. After all, say Gypsy leaders,

they are ethnically distinct, and their total population outnumbers that of

many of the Union's present and future countries. Some experts put the

figure at 4m-plus; some proponents of Gypsy rights go as high as 15m.

Unlike Jews, Gypsies have had no known ancestral land to hark back to.

Though their language is related to Hindi, their territorial origins are

misty. Romanian peasants held them to be born on the moon. Other Europeans

(wrongly) thought them migrant Egyptians, hence the derivative Gypsy. Most

probably they were itinerant metal workers and entertainers who drifted west

from India in the 7th century.

However, since communism in Central Europe collapsed a decade ago, the

notion of Romanestan as a landless nation founded on Gypsy culture has

gained ground. The International Romany Union, which says it stands for 10m

Gypsies in more than 30 countries, is fostering the idea of "self-rallying".

It is trying to promote a standard and written form of the language; it

waves a Gypsy flag (green with a wheel) when it lobbies in such places as

the United Nations; it is setting up an office in Brussels; and in July it

held a congress in Prague, the Czech capital, where President Vaclav Havel

said that Gypsies in his own country and elsewhere should have a better

deal.

At the congress a Slovak-born lawyer, Emil Scuka, was elected president of

the International Romany Union. Later this month a group of elected Gypsy

politicians, including members of parliament, mayors and local councillors

from all over Europe, will gather for a conference, again in Prague, run by

the Organisation for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), to discuss

how to persuade more Gypsies to get involved in politics.

The International Romany Union is probably the most representative of the

outfits that speak for Gypsies, but that is not saying a lot. Of the several

hundred delegates who gathered at its congress, few were democratically

elected; oddly, none came from Hungary, whose Gypsies are perhaps the world'

s best organised, with some 450 Gypsy bodies advising local councils there.

The union did, however, announce its ambition to set up a parliament, but

how it would actually be elected was left undecided.

So far, the European Commission is wary of encouraging Gypsies to present

themselves as a nation. That might, it is feared, open a Pandora's box

already containing Basques, Corsicans and other awkward peoples. Besides,

acknowledging Gypsies as a nation might backfire, just when several

countries, particularly Hungary, Slovakia and the Czech Republic, are

beginning to treat them better, in order to qualify for EU membership. "The

EU's whole premise is to overcome differences, not to highlight them," says

a nervous Eurocrat.

But the idea that the Gypsies should win some kind of special recognition as

Europe's largest continentwide minority, and one with a terrible history of

persecution, is catching on. Gypsies have suffered many pogroms over the

centuries. In Romania, the country that still has the largest number of them

(more than 1m), in the 19th century they were actually enslaved. Hitler

tried to wipe them out, along with the Jews.

"Gypsies deserve some space within European structures," says Jan Marinus

Wiersma, a Dutchman in the European Parliament who suggests that one of the

current commissioners should be responsible for Gypsy affairs. Some

prominent Gypsies say they should be more directly represented, perhaps with

a quota in the European Parliament. That, they argue, might give them a

boost. There are moves afoot to help them to get money for, among other

things, a Gypsy university.

One big snag is that Europe's Gypsies are, in fact, extremely heterogeneous.

They belong to many different, and often antagonistic, clans and tribes,

with no common language or religion. Their self-proclaimed leaders have

often proved quarrelsome and corrupt. Still, says Dimitrina Petrova, head of

the European Roma Rights Centre in Budapest, Gypsies' shared experience of

suffering entitles them to talk of one nation; their potential unity, she

says, stems from "being regarded as sub-human by most majorities in Europe."

And they have begun to be a bit more pragmatic. In Slovakia and Bulgaria,

for instance, Gypsy political parties are trying to form electoral blocks

that could win seats in parliament. In Macedonia, a Gypsy party already has

some-and even runs a municipality. Nicholas Gheorge, an expert on Gypsy

affairs at the OSCE, reckons that, spread over Central Europe, there are now

about 20 Gypsy MPs and mayors, 400-odd local councillors, and a growing

number of businessmen and intellectuals.

That is far from saying that they have the people or the cash to forge a

nation. But, with the Gypsy question on the EU's agenda in Central Europe,

they are making ground.