Hungarian Spectrum

The extreme right and the Holy Crown

Until recently no one knew who László Gonda was, but in the last two years he has become infamous. He is one of the leaders of the group that in the fall of 2006 camped out in front of the parliament building for almost two months while the Hungarian authorities idly stood by, not knowing what to do. László Gonda is an unlikely revolutionary. He is in his fifties, soft spoken, and polite. He  can sound quite reasonable as long as he isn't talking about the theory of the Holy Crown or other favorite topics of his nationalistic imagination. We don't know much about him except that he spent some time in Germany and returned to Hungary not long ago. As far as I know he has no job but devotes his entire existence to his muddled "revolutionary" activities. His intellectual-looking face can be seen at every demonstration that is touted as a huge gathering against the "bolshevik" government but turns out to be a protest of no more than a few dozen fanatics. Yes, Gonda is a fanatic whose ideas are harder and harder to interpret.

The last time Gonda tried to create a scene was on August 20th. First he headed a group of about twenty people who tried to interrupt the celebrations in front of the parliament building. But the square in front of the parliament is large, and the Rákóczi March is awfully loud, so Gonda's efforts failed to produce noticeable results. After that Gonda and company rushed to Heroes' Square where he complained that the new officers were not being sworn in in the presence of the copy of the Holy Crown that had been used in previous years. The swearing in itself is to the Republic of Hungary but it was during the Orbán government that someone, most likely in the Ministry of Defense, decided that this copy of the crown should be dragged out to the swearing-in ceremony. Viktor Orbán is responsible in large measure for the absolute craziness that reigns in certain circles about the place of the crown in today's Hungary.

Constitutionally, the crown is nothing but a very important museum piece and in fact between 1978, when the crown was returned from Fort Knox to Budapest, and 2000 it was housed in the National Museum. However, Orbán, wanting to whip up national enthusiasm and use it to his own political advantage, moved the crown from the museum to the parliament. Before it was placed in the parliament building, Orbán got the brilliant idea of sending this priceless work of art on a little boat trip between Budapest and Esztergom and back on August 20, 2000. Esztergom was the capital of Hungary during Stephen's time as well as Stephen's birthplace.

Gonda went to Heroes' Square because this year at last the Ministry of Defense in charge of the swearing-in ceremony decided that the crown had no place there. Gonda wanted to place three huge pictures of the crown in front of all the cameras, but his plan was foiled. Afterward he gave an interview to one of the internet papers (Stop) in which he claimed that "the Holy Crown is the symbol of Hungarian Christian statehood." A few sentences later he added that in his opinion "this state was not established a thousand years ago but was founded by [the pagan] Árpád." So Gonda can't decide whether he really wants a country that is part of Christian Europe or he is yearning for a state that was founded by invading "barbarians." Moreover, the Holy Crown of Hungary is not really one thousand years old and therefore doesn't not mark the beginning of Christianity in Hungary.

It was only after 1978 that serious study of the crown could be undertaken, and the experts came to the conclusion that the Holy Crown was assembled into its current form during the reign of Béla III (1172-1196). The lower part of the crown is of Greek origin (corona graeca), while the top was made somewhere in Italy (corona latina). The cross on top was added in the sixteenth century in a rather crude manner, affixing it through a picture of Christ on top of the crown. It was in the seventeenth century that the cross got bent when someone carelessly closed the box in which it was placed. On the lower (Greek) part of the crown there are four pictures: three of them depict members of the royal house of Michael VII of Byzantium (1071-1078), including the emperor himself, and the fourth King Géza I of Hungary (1074-1077). Most likely this corona graeca was a gift to the wife of Géza who was of Greek origin. This lower part of the crown is definitely a Byzantine style of crown made for a woman. The corona latina, that is the top part of the crown, was not a piece that had an independent function. It was designed to be attached to the rim and provide a cupola-shaped top. The inscription on the pictures of the saints and the style of their lettering suggest the date when they were made: most likely before the middle of the eleventh century. Originally they may have decorated a reliquary box or a portable altar used by Stephen himself. Or, of course, it is also possible that it was not originally used in Stephen's court but was acquired later from somewhere else. Here is a picture of the crown.

 

The upshot is that the Holy Crown of Hungary is not a symbol of the introduction of Christianity that began sometime in the last twenty or so years of the tenth century and gained full acceptance around the middle of the eleventh. The current Hungarian government is not terribly happy about the crown's presence in the parliament building, and I wouldn't be surprised if it eventually ended up in the restored Royal Castle. The full restoration of the Royal Castle will take place over the next seven years. 

St. Stephen: The founder of the Hungarian state

Today is a national holiday in Hungary because on the Hungarian liturgical calendar August 20th is the name day of István, hence the Day of St. Stephen. Initially Catholic countries designated particular days of the calendar to honor saints, but soon enough the name day tradition spread beyond the realm of the saints. What to do with such non-saintly names as Adam and Eve? They were accommodated, but they had to share a day, Christmas Eve. (Talk about a bummer!) Then came all those pagan names that couldn't be deprived, so pagans got their own name days. After a while on any given day there could be two or three names honored. A person's name day remains a celebratory event in Hungary, but it comes with its own downside, especially for women. Friends and acquaintances appear unannounced with flowers; in return they expect food. Nice little holiday for her!

I checked name days in a fair number of countries and it seems that August 20th is Stephen's Day only in Hungary in commemoration of his canonization in 1083. He was born as Vajk, a name of Turkic origin meaning "rich." His father's name was Géza (also of Turkic origin). He was the most important chieftain of the Magyars but was obviously a transitional figure since he was already referred to as "prince" (fejedelem). According to most historians it was Géza who began his people's conversion to Christianity. Although there is a late nineteenth-century painting entitled "The Baptism of Stephen" in which he is depicted as an adult, most likely he was baptized early in life. According to one of the Legends of St. Stephen, the bishop of Prague, St. Adalbert, ministered the baptismal rite to Stephen.

Géza obviously envisaged a westward orientation for Hungary because he made arrangements for his son's marriage to Gisella of Bavaria, daughter of Henry the Wrangler (951-995) and sister of Henry II, later Holy Roman Emperor. Géza died in 997; according to western customs his son Stephen would have automatically succeeded him. But that was contrary to the old Hungarian (and Slavic) custom where succession followed seniority. Stephen's older cousin first had to be defeated (and killed) before Stephen could rightfully claim the position of prince. Once feeling secure in his position, he turned to Pope Sylvester II and asked for a crown in recognition of his kingship. I might mention here that the so-called Holy Crown of St. Stephen is not the crown Stephen received from Rome. Perhaps one day more about the intriguing story of the crown. However, the sceptre and the coronation cloak do date from 1000.

Stephen's importance cannot be overestimated in the history of the country; even today August 20th is considered the birthday of Hungary. When the first parliament of the Third Republic convened in 1990 a decision was made about which national holiday to consider paramount. There were three contenders:  March 15, celebrating the 1848-1849 revolution and the war of independence; October 23, the day of the outbreak of the uprising against the Hungarian communist leadership and Russian occupation; and August 20. They decided on August 20. Not everybody agreed. The liberals and socialists then in opposition would have preferred March 15th as the birthday of the modern, democratic Hungary. However, it seems that while March 15th and October 23rd are contentious holidays, where left and right simply cannot agree or celebrate together, August 20th usually comes and goes without any upheaval. Once again, August 20th passed without incident.

In the morning, in front of the parliament building in the presence of the president, prime minister, speaker of the house, and head of the constitutional court, a huge Hungarian flag was raised very slowly to the tune of the mournful Hungarian national anthem. Earlier a fancy military unit arrived as the central military band played the Rákóczi March. Apparently far away from the official event about twenty people tried to disrupt the proceedings but to no avail. Later, on Heroes' Square the new graduates of the military and the police academies took their oaths. At night there was about half an hour of fireworks over the Danube.

One interesting twist. The organizers of today's festivities invited groups immersed in the crafts and customs of the late tenth and early eleventh century to give demonstrations that would appeal to children. I assume that this was an attempt to neutralize those people who show their opposition to the goverment by returning to the ancient ways of Hungarians. And indeed why not invite them to show what they can do when it comes to ironworks, leatherworks, horsemanship, old jewelry making? I'm sure that not only children but adults enjoyed their demonstrations. And perhaps the traditionalists will start to believe that the government is "national" after all.

The extreme right in light of public opinion polls

One of the commentators on this blog confidently announced that there are no neo-nazis in Hungary. They are the figment of the imagination of Gyurcsány and his "gang." Of course, this is nonsense. There is a sizable group of people that fall into the category of the extreme right. Tibor Závecz, researcher of Szonda Ipsos, was interviewed on the subject of the Hungarian extreme right the other day in168 Óra. Based on careful research Szonda Ipsos estimates that 9-10% of the Hungarian adult population can be categorized as followers of extreme right ideology. That is not a small number. It means a group of about 700-800,000 people. Whom do they categorize as people with extreme political views? The most important consideration is that they oppose the parliamentary system and democratic institutions. They consider liberal democracy anarchy. They believe in "order." Moreover, they believe that creating order out of this alleged chaos is their calling. The most extreme group within the radicals would like to get rid of the courts altogether and take things into their own hands. Their ideology also hinges on "being Hungarian," and they are the ones who decide who is Hungarian and who is not.

According to Závecz, although this extreme right radicalism has most likely existed for a long time, it "came out of the closet" only after 2000. Or, put another way, prior to 2000 people of right radical persuasion kept their views more or less to themselves. Sure, before 2000 MIÉP had a following of about 200,000, but this represented only a fraction of right radicals. In fact, Szonda Ipsos estimates that their numbers haven't really changed. It's just that in the last eight years or so right radicals feel that they no longer have to hide their political views because their ideas have become more or less acceptable. They have also become politically hyperactive. They don't need any outside urging to go to demonstrate or to go to vote. Currently 80-90% of them say that they would vote if the elections were held this Sunday, compared to only 50% of the population at large. This is an especially interesting statistic since they don't really believe in elections. But of course, they take advantage of the democratic process as long as it exists.

The right radicals are becoming bolder and bolder. They test how far they can go without consequence, and the very liberal Hungarian law is incapable of handling all the iterations of this aggressive minority. Of course, not all 700-800,000 right radicals would go out and throw Molotov cocktails, but they sympathize with those who do.

Every age group among the right radicals has its own grievance. The young ones consider last year's austerity measures catastrophic, although Hungary experienced only a relatively mild drop in living standards. When these young guys talk about Trianon it is no more than a pose because they know nothing about it, and the loss of territory in 1918-1919 has no measurable effect on their lives. The whole country is traditionally pessimistic but these right radicals are extremely discontented.

If the group of right radicals is so large why don't they try their hand at forming a party and taking power away from the two big parties? They know that they are not strong enough to go it alone. They hate Gyurcsány and MSZP more than they dislike Orbán and Fidesz. Out of necessity they, at least for the time being, support Fidesz. But they are not really happy with this alliance. It is not Fidesz's program that moves them but the hope that with the help of Fidesz they can get rid of MSZP and the liberals. Eighty percent of them vote for Fidesz at any given election.

Finally, Závecz thinks that the existing laws are not strong enough to keep this extreme radical group from endangering Hungary's democratic structure. Who should try to restrain this ideology and its practitioners? Závecz thinks that it should be the party who wants to use them and who wants their votes. And surely, this is Viktor Orbán and his party. Well. . . .

Nepotism in Hungary

We all know the meaning of the word: "favoritism shown to a relative (as by giving an appointive job)." The word and the concept of course exist in Hungary. One of the novels of Zsigmond Móricz (1879-1942) is entitled Relatives [Rokonok]. The book, which I reread recently, is about small-town corruption where municipal government jobs are allotted to various relatives. István Szabó was so taken with the book that he made a film based on it a couple of years ago.

Nepotism is alive and well in Hungary, yet some people act as if they never heard of it. This is the case with László Majtényi, currently head of Országos Rádió és Televízió Testület, better known as ORTT. Majtényi graduated from law school in 1975 and soon began a career as a lecturer at the Budapest Engineering School. Between 1990 and 1995 he worked for the Constitutional Court, and it was here that László Sólyom and László Majtényi came to know each other. In 1995 he was appointed ombudsman in charge of privacy issues. In 2001 he was not reappointed. Viktor Orbán and his party had someone else in mind.  Majtényi, without a job, decided to organize a research institute dealing with politics. In 2007 Sólyom, his old friend, decided to renominate him as ombudsman, but his nomination failed to receive the necessary two-thirds majority of parliamentary votes. Sólyom as usual was furious at the failure of parliament to endorse his choice. Majtényi, for his part, wrote a long, tedious, obsequious piece praising Sólyom to the skies.

This year Sólyom, together with Ferenc Gyurcsány, nominated Majtényi to head ORTT, an organization that keeps a watchful eye on Hungarian radio and television for possible violations of the media law. And parliament ratified the nomination. In his new post Majtényi has already endorsed a ruling against the media. Klub Rádió aired an ad for Vasárnapi Hírek, a Sunday paper, that loosely quoted from Genesis: On the first day God created such and such, on the second ... and on the seventh one reads Vasárnapi Hírek. ORTT ruled that this ad violated the religious beliefs of Christians. A better judgment might have been that it was a primitive ad that would never have seen the light of day on Madison Avenue. And that, I don't think, is against media law.

A few weeks ago Majtényi appointed László Sólyom's son-in-law to be spokesman for ORTT. Sólyom's son-in-law is a journalist who for a while worked for Magyar Nemzet and later for Heti Válasz. The latter publication is a decidedly right of center weekly. When he was employed by Magyar Nemzet, I'm not sure. Let's hope not recently. Interestingly enough, another ombudsman in charge of the environment and also nominated by Sólyom employs the same son-in-law as press secretary. These two appointments by two nominees of the president of the republic didn't go unnoticed. György Bolgár phoned Majtényi and asked whether he didn't find this whole thing a tad awkward. Majtényi, who normally doesn't have any trouble finding the right words, was practically speechless. His eventual excuses were lame. For example, that the job was not well paid. That the son-in-law is an excellent journalist. And finally, he admitted that it never occurred to him that there was anything inappropriate about this particular appointment. Did he know, asked Bolgár, that the same person is the press secretary of another ombudsman, also nominated by Sólyom? Answer: no.

József Debreczeni, who is no friend of László Sólyom, was appalled and wrote a scathing article in Népszabadság (July 27, 2008) about nepotism in general and this case in particular. The title of the article was "The Propriety of the President." Debreczeni recalled actions of past presidents, prime ministers, and ministers, and the only really horrendous nepotism he could discover was linked to József Torgyán. Torgyán and Sólyom? Debreczeni finished his article by saying, "I'm badly shaken."

I'm not going to go into the details of the afterlife of Debreczeni's article, but a couple of days later Majtényi wrote an answer to Debreczeni. The answer is not much better than the feeble explanation he gave to Bolgár. However, he attacks Debreczeni, hitting below the belt. "Among close acquaintances it is rumored that the problem with Debreczeni is his admiration of Somebody and his hatred of the political adversaries of that Somebody, coupled with an annoying lack of knowledge of the topic at hand." I don't think I need continue. Majtényi did something at best questionable, at worst wrong. Insulting somebody else will not rectify that decision.

Another bomb scare in Budapest

Almost every few weeks while excavating the foundations of a new building in Budapest workers find an old bomb from World War II. And they are big: half a ton, a ton, and this last one, two tons. Why have so many gargantuan old bombs suddenly surfaced? The reason, it seems, is that new office buildings and larger apartment houses must have underground garages, often consisting of several levels, which requires much deeper excavation. And it is very deep underground that these mega-bombs found their not quite final resting place.

Mind you, there must be many bombs still buried underground. Most of the bombing of Hungary during 1944-1945 was done by the Americans who apparently dropped more than 26,000 tons of bombs on the country. These bombings were often very intense, so-called carpet bombings. Sometimes 700-1,000 planes bombed day and night for weeks on end. Budapest suffered the most: the city was carpet bombed 37 times. On Csepel Island, where the Manfréd Weiss Works (a large industrial concern by that time in German hands) was situated, 248 half-ton bombs were dropped at one time. Apparently, the most heavily bombed areas were District I (the Castle District), II, and XII, all on the Buda side, and on the Pest side District IX, where this last mega-bomb was found.

About three weeks ago a half-ton bomb was discovered in District XIII (also known as Angyalföld). Seven thousand people had to be evacuated; clearing the area took almost six hours. The bomb turned out to be an American-made GP type of bomb that was apparently extremely dangerous to defuse. Yet people don't realize the potential danger when such a bomb is found. Some refuse to leave their apartments. A lot of people start an argument with the police. They don't understand why they have to leave when that good old bomb has been lying there for more than half a century and has done no harm. Then there are the old folks who can barely get out of bed.

This time the bomb was huge--two tons, and therefore 16,000 people had to be evacuated before the bomb squad dared to work on it. Over 100 people had to be carried out on stretchers. The oldest evacuee was 98. Two thousand people were over 70, and as a group they apparently didn't take well to their forcible removal from their apartments to temporary shelters. I saw pictures of these shelters and I must say that they were elegant as far as shelters go. Nine ambulances transported those who were unable to leave on their own steam. Five ambulances stood by to assist the 800 people working on the project. It seemed to me that the organization was pretty decent.

Yet, as usual, people are dissatisfied. They complain that they were not individually notified after the bomb was unearthed that the evacuation would begin the next morning at 9 a.m. Of course, TV and radio stations as well as internet sites carried the story and the evacuation information, but for those who live in a media vacuum it was a huge surprise when police cars equipped with bullhorns arrived. Then the police knocked on doors, trying to convince reluctant people to move out. Well, by 4 o'clock in the afternoon the evacuation was complete and the bomb squad went to work only to find that somebody, most likely way back in 1945, had already defused the bomb. However, that couldn't have been known beforehand because the head of the bomb, where the detonator is situated, was buried deep in the ground.

Echo and HirTV, two right-wing television stations, immediately found "experts" who announced that this  bomb scare was a fiasco.  After all, with a robot the bomb squad could have handled the whole thing and ultrasound would have been able to ascertain whether or not the bomb was dangerous. The head of the bomb squad very rightly pointed out that no robot could move a two-ton bomb. Moreover, the evacuation would have had to occur even if there were such robot because the bomb could have exploded, robot or no robot. As for ultrasound, he doesn't know of any ultrasound equipment that could penetrate such a monster of a bomb.

Put it this way, it is better to be safe than sorry. If I lived near a two-ton bomb I would meekly follow police instructions, but I guess I have been acculturated differently in Canada and the U.S. I think the Hungarian people would be a great deal happier if they complained less and took things in stride.

That cursed turul statue

For months now the fate of the turul statue erected in Buda about three years ago has been in limbo. The turul is a mythical bird resembling an eagle or a falcon. According to legend there was a woman named Emese who was visited by an eagle/falcon in her dream. She became pregnant and gave birth to Álmos (in Hungarian dream is "álom"), the man who eventually led the seven Hungarian tribes to their new homeland in the Carpathian basin. The legend was most likely born when the Hungarians lived side by side with Turkic tribes because the word "turul" is of Turkic origin. As time went by the turul wasn't so much the symbol of the Hungarian royal house as of power, war, and nobility in general. Such totem animals are well known the world over as parts of coats of arms; one can even find an eagle in the Great Seal of the United States. To this day the turul appears in the coat of arms of the Hungarian Army and the Office of National Security. So far, so good. So what's wrong with that statue of the turul in District XII?

First of all, this particular statue was erected without a permit. The erection of a statue on public property must have the permission of a board whose members can decide about the artistic merit and the appropriateness of a particular work of art. The board wasn't too taken with either the artistic merit or the appropriateness of this statue. One can certainly argue about the artistic value of this or that work of art, but when it came to the appropriateness of the statue there were grave doubts. The statue was supposed to commemorate the civilian victims of the district during the bombing and the subsequent siege of Budapest in World War II. But why use the symbol of the army as a memorial to civilian victims?

Then there was the problem that the turul had been used as a symbol of radical right-wing student organizations between the two world wars. In 1920 the right radical students of Budapest established the Turul Bajtársi Szövetség (Brotherhood Association of Turul) whose favorite pastime was beating up their fellow students of Jewish origin. The Turul Association had a very important part to play in the enactment of the law discriminating against Jews in admission to institutes of higher education (numerus clausus). A vivid description of the not infrequent "celebrations" of students of the Turul Association can be found in András Nyerges's masterful account in "Március, kardlap, gumibot" (March, sword, night-stick) in the March 16, 2007 issue of Élet és Irodalom. The events described by Nyerges bear an uncanny resemblance to what has been going on in Budapest in the last couple of years. Rather frightening. In any case, the modern history of the turul was not something that was deemed appropriate as a memorial to the victims of 1944-45. In addition, early in the history of the Arrow Cross Party the turul was featured in the party's emblem.

Permission or no permission the Fidesz mayor of District XII went ahead and came up with a masterful plan. Not far from the turul statue the local government began building another edifice on which were carved the names of non-Jews who allegedly helped the district's Jews in 1944-45. This was also erected without a permit. Upon completion, the chief rabbi and the Israeli ambassador were invited to unveil the wall on which the names appeared. That was a clever move. If the turul must be removed because of a lack of permit then surely the wall commemorating those brave non-Jews must also be removed. And who will do that? Who can do that? Of course, the whole thing could have been solved at the beginning: get the police out and prevent the erection of the turul and that's that. But no, the huge statue remains, overwhelming the square. Occasionally groups keep watch to make sure that no one tries to remove it in the dead of night. Or sometimes those who oppose it give speeches about the necessity of removing it. This has been going on while the case has been dragged through the court system. The new mayor (also Fidesz) offered compromise solutions that were not accepted by the city. And finally, when it looked as if the court had finally put an end to the appeal process, two thousand people gathered to demonstrate against the turul's removal. All in all, it is a real circus. One has the sneaking suspicion that the illegal statue will stay. By now nobody dares to remove it. Its removal, in the eyes of the right, would be the victory of a small minority (I guess that means the Jews) against the overwhelming majority of good Hungarians who are fighting for their national symbol. The whole thing, as usual, is a complete fiasco.

János Kádár, Gyula Thürmer, Béla Király and Imre Del Medico

One could ask: what? Why are these four names lumped together? Yes, we know who János Kádár was and perhaps even who Gyula Thürmer and Béla Király are, but who is this Imre Del Medico? Del Medico is perhaps the most prolific and best known author of letters to the editor. He is an older man who is disabled and therefore spends most of his time reading, researching and writing. He is a fountain of factual knowledge and has a sharp eye for finding mistakes, inaccuracies. In any case, lately a sharp exchange took place between Király and Del Medico over the role of János Kádár.

It all started with a short opinion piece by Béla Király, former commander-in-chief of the National Guard formed in the last days of the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 (Népszava, July 17). Without going into details concerning the career of Béla Király, it might be worth mentioning that in 1956 he escaped and lived in the United States until 1990. Király, originally a professional soldier, received his Ph.D. in history from Columbia University and taught until his retirement at Brooklyn College. He wrote and edited a number of books on Hungarian history and was the editor-in-chief of a series on East European history. In 1990 he returned to Hungary where he successfully ran for parliament representing a district in his hometown of Kaposvár. He ran again in 1994 but didn't manage to get a seat. By now Béla Király is 96 years old but still active.

Király wrote a short piece on the occasion of a visit by some faithful communists, headed by Gyula Thürmer, president of the Hungarian Workers' Party, to János Kádár's grave on the anniversary of his death. Thürmer said some laudatory words about János Kádár and then compared him to Ferenc Gyurcsány. According to him "János Kádár told the people, fill your bellies because you only live once, while Ferenc Gyurcsány tells the people that they should die of hunger because it is cheaper for the government, cheaper for the country. This is the difference between the two men. That's why people come to the cemetery to his grave and what's why János Kádár's prestige and respect keeps growing in Hungarian society."

One could argue about the truthfulness of this statement, but this is not what Király objected to. Király was upset that Thürmer didn't talk about the wave of terrror that Kádár initiated between 1956 and 1963. One shouldn't be surprised that Türmer didn't talk about the darker side of Kádár's career. Király mentioned in this piece that 230 people were condemned to death, something that had not happened in Hungary since 1849.

Enters Del Medico who this time I believe is off target (Népszava, July 22). First of all, he corrects Király's statement that the reprisals after 1956 were so horrendous that they could only be compared to the vengeance of the crown against the rebels of 1848-49. Del Medico brings up as another example the red and white terrors of 1919. However, I don't think that the actions carried out by Tibor Szamuelly and József Cserni, communist terrorists, against the "enemies of the people" or the arbitrary hanging of communist collaborators by detachments of the national army can be compared to official, judicial proceedings by the central authority. These left- and right-wing extremists acted more or less on their own. They moved from village to village, hanging a few people in one village and then moving on and killing a few more in another. They hanged their victims on trees or shot them dead. By contrast, after the 1848-49 revolution the punitive actions were administered by military and civilian courts. The same was the case after 1956. Whatever we may think of these court proceedings, they cannot be compared to arbitrary lynchings by groups of maniacal ideologues.

Del Medico then makes another mistake, at least in my opinion. He compares János Kádár favorably with Franz Joseph and Miklós Horthy because, according to him, Kádár was guilt ridden all his life while neither Franz Joseph nor Miklós Horthy showed the slightest remorse. Let's leave out Miklós Horthy because I already dismissed the white terror as not comparable to 1848-49 or 1956. When it comes to Franz Joseph, I am sure that he didn't feel any remorse because he was convinced that his action was both just and justifiable. As far as he was concerned he was the annointed ruler of the empire, and his subjects had risen up against him, ruler by the grace of God. The military men (for example the Martyrs of Arad) swore allegiance to him and promised to defend the empire. Instead they turned against him. They were traitors. And legally, constitutionally speaking, he was most likely right. I'm sure that he didn't feel guilty. On the contrary, he must have felt virtuous saving the empire. From his own point of view, he was right.

Whether Kádár was guilt ridden all his life as Del Medico claims I find hard to believe. Del Medico bases this opinion on the last confusing speech Kádár made before the party's Central Committee. His brain wasn't functioning properly and it is very difficult to make sense of it, but I read the speech as an attempt at self-justification. He tried to explain why he did what he did. He asked for understanding: under the circumstances he couldn't do anything else. Tibor Huszár in his excellent two-volume biography of Kádár began the part of the book dealing with this last speech with a quotation from the speech: "I am a scapegoat in the biblical sense." This is not someone who is asking for forgiveness, but someone who thinks that he is a victim.

Király, again in my opinion, doesn't answer Del Medico well (Népszava, July 24). He keeps repeating that his aim was not to give a history of Hungarian waves of terror but simply to point out the sins of Kádár. Király signs his piece as professor emeritus of history, but he is so close to the topic, so personally involved that he cannot be objective. He accuses Del Medico of worshipping Kádár, and therefore "he deserves [Király's] contempt." I'm sure, after reading many of Del Medico's letters, that he doesn't worship Kádár. He simply had a different reading of a very difficult text. He may also have the rather typical dislike of the Habsburgs without realizing Franz Joseph's position and worldview.

Watermelon politics in Hungary

Until now it was a simple price war between farmers and supermarkets, but as of today watermelon is no longer just an agricultural commodity. It has become a political football. (Just think of the opportunities for a good cartoonist!) On the one side is a mad socialist member of parliament; on the other a farmers' association linked to Fidesz.

József Karsai, formerly a member of the defunct Smallholders' Party and currently a representative of MSZP, has a penchant for creating havoc. His latest cause is the plight of Hungarian watermelon growers who cannot sell their crop at a price they consider fair. He became the spokesman for the "thousands of watermelon growers" in his county of Békés. Building on his success there he moved on to Heves County, also a center of watermelon farming. I was astonished to read that Hungarian farmers grow watermelon on 6,000 acres and that 90% of their crop goes to export. The amount of watermelon produced is staggering: 140,000-150,000 tons a year. Last year, apparently because of the late frost and the subsequent drought, the price of watermelon was very high. Such a price hike usually results in more watermelon being planted the following year. Naive farmers think that if the price of a commodity the year before was good it is worth growing lots more of the same crop. Then, of course, there is a surplus and the price goes down. That's exactly what happened with watermelon this year.

Back to the political aspects of watermelon. In the last few years, especially since a socialist-liberal government has been in power, the Magosz (Magyar Gazdakörök és Gazdaszövetkezetek Szövetsége/Hungarian Association of Farmers and Farming Cooperatives), one of the numerous farmers' associations, regularly organized demonstrations and partial roadblocks to protest this or that. The complaints usually centered around subsidies: they were insufficient or they were late. At times they demonstrated because the price of wheat was too low; they demanded that the state buy and store the wheat at an above-market price. It became clear soon enough that Magosz was an antigovernment organization with close ties to Fidesz, the party then in opposition. These ties were eventually so close that Fidesz and Magosz signed a document of cooperation prior to the national elections of 2006. Magosz would try to deliver the votes for Fidesz in exchange for five parliamentary seats. Fidesz didn't win the elections, but five Magosz leaders, including István Jakab, the president of Magosz, became members of parliament. In the last two years Magosz has been less disruptive. First, agricultural subsidies increased substantially after Hungary became a member of the European Union; second, the minister of agriculture, József Gráf, has a way with the farmers.

Magosz apparently supported Karsai initially when Karsai's farmers dumped a few tons of watermelon in the parking lot of one of the Auchen stores. However, when Karsai, emboldened by his initial success with Auchen, extended his activities to blockading the premises of exporters, Magosz made a public declaration in which the farmers' association protested "Karsai's radical methods that are opposed to the union's market economy." Magosz further claimed that "because of the blockade and the resulting uncertainty regarding shipping, important foreign buyers have turned away, perhaps for good, from buying Hungarian agricultural products." Magosz added that the association considers Karsai's actions no more than political profiteering. This opinion was shared by eighteen farmers' organizations whose main activity is selling the products of their members. These cooperatives went so far as to accuse Karsai of representing the interests of certain watermelon wholesalers who want to ruin their competitors. They also claimed that on the free market there is no way of selling watermelon at 30 Ft per kilogram, the price Karsai demands.

It seems that some socialist politicians support Karsai and expressed their surprise that farmers would side with the wholesalers. Actually they used a not too nice slang word for the wholesalers: "neppers."

Well, this time I'm on the side of Magosz, the cooperatives, and the "neppers." When 90% of Hungarian watermelon is sold abroad and when there is an overproduction of watermelon all over Europe, when the temperature is fairly cold for the season and thus fewer watermelon are sold, it is impossible to play the kinds of games Karsai advocates. Hungarian farmers will not be able to sell their products and Italian watermelon growers will have a heyday. One of the leaders of Magosz kept repeating that "one cannot go against the market." Indeed. Karsai is on the wrong side.

The nation's doctor: István Mikola

Lately I have been wondering what happened to István Mikola, whom Viktor Orbán called the "nation's doctor." He was very active in the campaign against the co-payment and hospital fee, but once the referendum was over Mikola disappeared. Every time there was anything concerning healthcare issues the Fidesz put forth another "political expert" (szakpolitikus) as the party's frontman. He is, of course, also a physician, Imre Pesti. But he is a great deal less entertaining than Dr. Mikola was.

Anyway, I couldn't figure out what was going on, and I must admit that I'm still not sure. But it seems that many people in Fidesz, perhaps even Viktor Orbán himself, are unhappy with István Mikola, once the favorite of the party's leader. The most recent rift occurred over the issue of privatization of healthcare services. Fidesz is dead set against any privatization and is currently trying to prevent HospInvest from gaining control of the hospital in Eger. Mikola, hand in hand with Mihály Kökény, an MSZP medical expert and former minister of health, went to visit a hospital in Kiskunhalas, already in the hands of HospInvest and Halas-Med Kht. and said a few words about the benefits of privatization in Hungarian healthcare.

HospInvest is high on Fidesz's hit list: the party accuses it of egregious exploitation of the facilities and the staff of hospitals under its care. So it is understandable that Mikola's appearance with Mihály Kökény and his positive attitude toward HospInvest was too much for the party and its satellite media organs, the daily Magyar Nemzet and the weekly Heti Válasz. Heti Válasz considered the Mikola affair so important that the editors placed Mikola's picture on its cover with the caption: "Mikola's hidden face." Heti Válasz accused Mikola of being part owner Halas-Med Kht., a company that was ostensibly created for the sole purpose of advancing and benefiting from the privatization of the hospital in Kiskunhalas. We do know that István Mikola has had fairly extensive business dealings in the healthcare field. Before Mikola became minister of health he held a majority stake in Phonendoscop, a consulting firm, and even during his tenure, he didn't really part with his interest in the business venture: he simply signed it over to his children. Mikola was on the board of Mamma Klinika Rt., a firm that takes care most of the mammogram screenings in Hungary.

So it is possible that Mikola has a vested interest in the privatization of healthcare services, in sharp contrast to the Fidesz platform. It is also possible, as Árpád W. Tóta suggested the other day in his blog, that Mikola became emboldened by Viktor Orbán's "secret speech" that showed a bit more realism toward the problems of the Hungarian economy. This explanation seems forced to me. I am more inclined to think that for one reason or other Orbán dropped Mikola, hence his disappearance from the political scene of late, and that Mikola now believes that he doesn't have much to lose by being a political maverick and perhaps a healthcare entrepreneur. He will not become either deputy prime minister, as Orbán promised in 2002, or minister of health in the next Orbán government.

One thing is sure: Mikola can be a political liability. Once he blurted out, before the 2006 elections, that if Fidesz managed to push through dual citizenship for Hungarians living in the neighboring countries, the party would govern Hungary for at least twenty years. That was a terrible faux pas. A lot of people began to realize that Fidesz support for dual citizenship wasn't exactly altruistic. Moreover, it only rallied the other side. (This twenty-year scenario crops up here and there. Most recently it was István Stumpf who predicted that Viktor Orbán might become prime minister for twelve years and then could be president for eight.) Mikola also said some very stupid things about psychiatry, children, and teachers who should just rap offending children's knuckles with a ruler--that would solve a lot of problems. One also ought not forget his most unfortunate reference to single men and women, calling them hordes who then march on Andrássy Street, clearly referring to homosexuals. So, all in all, Mikola is no great loss to Hungarian politics.  

Promising economic news from Hungary

I think it is time to introduce the chief spokesman of Fidesz, Péter Szijjártó (30), who can get under a lot of people's skin. He certainly gets under mine. It is difficult to describe what is so annoying about this good-looking, always smiling, man. I think that in many ways he is the perfect spokesman for Fidesz: facile, brazen, slippery. He is also full of energy and seemingly tireless. He can rarely be cornered, although in Ferenc Vicsek, reporter for Klub Rádió and ATV, he found his match. The first time I saw Szijjártó at a loss for words was when he encountered Vicsek on Egyenes Beszéd (Straight Talk), an evening political program on ATV, right after the news.

Szijjártó was born in 1978 and therefore spent his formative years in the new, democratic Hungary. His parents sent him to parochial school (Benedictines in Győr), and he was an exchange student in the United States for half a year. (I heard him speak English and I must say that the half a year wasn't enough!) He is a real politico who already as a seventeen-year-old joined Fidesz and had all sorts of positions on the local level and in Fidelitas, Fidesz's youth organization. In 2002 he finished college (Corvinus University, earlier Karl Marx University) majoring in international relations, although he describes himself as an economist. How much economics he knows is hard to tell because, as a good spokesman, he simply repeats the party directives. In fact, he is the real head of the "parrot commando," as the chorus of Fidesz politicians is called by the other side.

Presumably in anticipation of what Fidesz thought would be better than anticipated government economic figures Szijjártó made a preemptive strike. He announced yesterday morning that the government is playing games with economic indicators and that the deficit could be even lower than it is now because the government is saving money for its planned spending spree. As a result, these economic tricks will lead to an even greater crisis than the current one. He demanded (he always demands, but always adds "respectfully") that the government stop this immoral behavior.

A few hours later came János Veres, minister of finance, with the official figures. He announced two corrections to economic projections. One concerns the size of the deficit; it was projected to be 4% for 2008 but it looks as if it will most likely be only 3.8% of the GDP. That means a deficit of 1051 billion forints instead of 1080. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, the government had to change its prognosis for the rate of inflation. In the spring the prediction was 4.8%, but later that had to be changed to 5.9% and now to 6.5%. Veres is still hopeful that by the end of the year (the global slowdown should lead to demand destruction and hence lower prices for commodities) the inflation rate may be reduced to 6%. As far as economic growth is concerned Veres was apparently conservative: 2.4%.

Considering the dismal economic situation worldwide and in the United States in particular these numbers look very good even if Hungarian businessmen are still dissatisfied. But why would Hungarian businessmen be more optimistic than the population at large? A new survey on economic expectations in the four Visegrád countries (Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, and Hungary) was conducted by the Central European Research Group and Tárki. The first such survey was conducted in 2006 when the Poles and Czechs were a great deal more optimistic than the Hungarians. By now, pessimism seems to be the norm in the Czech Republic and in Poland, while in Hungary the situation is about the same as it was two years ago. The most optimistic, of course, is Slovakia. While in the Czech Republic 13%, in Poland 20%, and in Hungary 15% think that life will be better next year, 28% of the Slovaks look forward to the happy days of the euro. Of course, only a Pollyanna would view even the Slovak outlook as truly optimistic.