The recent upheaval in Czechoslovakia has seen two revolutionary periods. The first, lasting from mid-November 1989 until the new year, was a nationwide endeavor that did nothing less than return freedom to the country after a 40-year absence. The scenes many remember about this period were of student protests, in open defiance of the Czech police, demanding an end to the government's suppression of the most basic human desires. Yet, at the same time, veteran dissidents from the Charter 77 days and new adherents to the cause gathered in a theatre to formulate their unofficial political platform - including their demand for the Communist government's resignation. In six weeks Article 4 of the Constitution, providing for the complete domination of all political activity by the Communist Party, was abolished at the behest of millions of Czechs and Slovaks.

The second revolutionary period began when the government finally conceded that new elections to include non-communist parties would be held at a later date - in the spring of 1990. Though many observers quickly dismissed this seemingly crucial concession as so much more lip service doled out by Communists facing what appeared to be the gravest crisis to plague the regime since 1968, the government's delay in fulfilling its promise actually redounded to the benefit of Czechoslovakia's newly formed political movements, whose members could use the time to organize and to campaign. After all, they were competing against the one political party that had dominated public opinion and organizational resources for over 40 years. In the words of Jana Ryslinkova, a Civic Forum spokesperson, "It is better to wait and let everyone organize so as to facilitate fair elections." And as the June 1990 elections neared, no one knew how the newly formed, pro-democracy movements would fare without adequate time and resources. Those fears were quickly dispelled as Civic Forum and its Slovakian counterpart. Public Against Violence, won more than 50 percent of the seats in the National Assembly.

If history is any guide, one would have expected another distinct period following Czechoslovakia's two recent revolutionary episodes - a period of reassessment and the beginnings of contending factions within the new political movements as they emerged victorious. Yet, unlike Poland's Solidarity movement, Civic Forum and Public Against Violence did not dissolve in factionalism at the outset. The reason for this is that although more than 80 parties sprouted up during the heyday of Czechoslovakia's democratic revolution, all of them relatively small with well-defined ideologies similar to other Western parties, Civic Forum and Public Against Violence had no immutable platform beyond the goal of returning their country to democratic rule. This, more than anything else, distinguished these two movements from the Communists, and contained a strong appeal to many Czechs and Slovaks who no longer desired - or who could not bring themselves to embrace - any one particular ideology. Moreover, having been denied an intimate experience with the evolution of Western politics and political ideas for over half a century, they felt it was inappropriate to replicate on Czechoslovak! an soil the platforms and policies of mature political parties in the post-industrial Western countries due to what Czechs and Slovaks viewed as social problems unique to the country's recent history. Civic Forum, having regarded itself as a vehicle for peoples' democratic enthusiasm and not as a political party, provided an appealing flexibility - an "openness" - through which people could carefully examine their country's problems, debate them, and reach some sort of consensus on how to resolve them. The less appealing alternative was to simply gloss over these acute problems with the expectation that choosing a particular ideology, and then blindly applying it, would solve everything. Indeed, Czechoslovakia firmly rejected this course in 1990.

One finds encouragement in this process of change. Czech and Slovak reformers can draw confidence from their political culture. The country's interwar experience with democracy gave Czechoslovakia's erstwhile dissidents some guidelines for implementing their ideas in 1989-90, and imbued them with the notion that democratic rule - interrupted for well over 40 years - was the natural course for the country. A 96-percent voter turnout for the first elections, the highest in the free world ever, confirmed the citizens' enthusiasm for a return to a civil society. Vaclav Havel, who emerged from his status as the country's chief dissident to take up the presidency of his nation, is a charismatic leader who symbolizes change, and who can inspire citizens to suffer through an uncertain transition to democracy and a free-market economy. More important, a free press, now unshackled from the constant supervision of the government, will facilitate a forum for debating the myriad problems now facing the country as it hurls itself into the rough-and-tumble of democratic politics.

To be sure, the agenda for this forum has grown to an unmanageable length, given the innumerable problems currently plaguing the transition. However, there are several disturbing elements that stand out and that desperately require attention before the transition can proceed.

First, the kind of factionalism to which Civic Forum and Public Against Violence seemed immune has finally manifested itself in the realm of the economy's privatization plans. A division among Civic Forum members, which had been building ever since the movement's political victory, was made formal last February. This rift in Civic Forum pits Finance Minister Vaclav Klaus, who advocates a much more comprehensive and faster transition to the free market, against President Havel and his old colleagues in the Charter 77 movement, many of whom come from the social-democratic tradition of state-welfare capitalism. Neither approach seems to satisfy Czechoslovakia's anxious workforce, which considers both plans with equal dissatisfaction. Even among the country's most seasoned economists, there are mixed interpretations of economic reform plans. Says Martin Pokorny of the Czechoslovakian Academy of Sciences: "The Komarkova Plan, by the vice chairman of the government, did not work because he claimed that this program could be implemented without changes in the economy. The Klaus Plan produced a solid reform program to solve macroeconomic problems, but did not start small privatization. So the entrepreneurs have noted that their situation is worse than in the last period of communist rule."

The divisive element in Slovakia revolves around the issue of nationalism as former Slovakian Premier Vladimir Meciar has recently defected from the democratic umbrella of Public Against Violence and aligned himself with the forces advocating a separate, pro-Soviet Slovakian state. Even here, economics plays a part in separating a once cohesive political movement since the nationalist forces argue that a free market will pass over less developed Slovakia. Meciar's group has argued for a retention of some form of central planning, where politics, not economics, will determine the distribution of resources.

Whatever outcome ensues from these rifts, it is clear that too many panics and factions in an unstructured coalition government at the federal level will render a consensus on any crucial item on the reform agenda nearly impossible. Compounding this problem is that most of the formal political parties competing in Czechoslovakia's polls failed to capture the confidence of the newly enfranchised electorate; moreover, they failed to present candidates who could prove they were politically competent.

Second, placement of government administrators has followed a disappointingly familiar pattern of patronage, based more on connections than on merit. A common complaint heard with increasing frequency these days in Prague is that there is a striking similarity between today's bureaucrats and ones who staffed these positions before the "Velvet Revolution." One continues to deal with incompetent and - more disturbing - corrupt officials. Before, they were Communists, and now Czechs and Slovaks believe it is the old Charter 77 officials who are inept and who are more than willing to grant favors to their friends. "Dubcek is the head of the Parliament, and in good relations with the President, yet there are many parliamentarians who were Communists but are now Civic Forum parliamentarians. Because of this, it does not seem like there will be a good chance for reform in the government," adds Pokorny. One way to solve this problem would be the creation of an institute devoted solely to training government officials in the mechanics of a civil society's public administration.

Third, the next elections are in two years, and maintaining a popular mandate in a climate of austerity measures with no clearly-defined social programs will almost certainly be an impossible task. Most of Czechoslovakia's citizens will be willing to accept price increases, but not al]. Furthermore, the benefits of austerity measures and economic reform will be long-term, and unfortunately many will become discouraged and - more to the point - unemployed during the interim.

Fourth, how shall the new Constitution deal with Slovak representation and with defined roles of the presidency? By one estimate, some 600 new laws will be needed to tackle just the problems mentioned above.

Finally, Havel has so far devoted his presidency to defining Czechoslovakia's new role in the international arena. Czechoslovakia is a nation that cannot afford this luxury. While one cannot fault his motivation, Havel's timing seems terribly wrong since it is clear he is devoting scant attention to developing long-term solutions to the country's looming domestic crises.

Czechoslovakia's lot is not hopeless; but rather, its future will be exciting to behold as long as patience and diligence are applied in resolving the country's profound social and economic problems. Czechoslovakia's interwar experience is testimony to the fact that Czechs and Slovaks can peacefully coexist under democratic government.

Marc Johnson, an analyst in Soviet and East European government and politics, is co-director of the U.S. Center for Soviet-American Relations