Eastern European Express

I'm an artist, teacher and writer who left the U.S. in the summer of 2006. Currently, I'm living in Budapest, Hungary. This blog is about my experience living and working in Eastern Europe and the Caucases. For those interested in my art, you can find it at www.leahkohlenberg.com.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Protests in Budapest

NOTE: I moved to Budapest nearly two weeks ago, so this is my first post about the place. I'm actually still working on another Armenian piece, which will come out later in the week, but thought you all might want some perspective on what's happening here in Hungary.

BUDAPEST – This Saturday evening, as I walked out of my apartment building to head to the internet cafe, I saw a group of college students hoisting a Hungarian flag as they quietly walked down the street, headed in the direction of the parliament building.

A police car buzzed by them, slowed, and then jetted off.

Six days after thousands of people gathered to protest the day's news that their prime minister been caught on tape admitting he lied to win an election, and five days after a small number of protesters turned violent, people are still collecting in front of the parliament building to express their distrust of a government they perceive has failed them many times.

It's mostly a gentle, well-organized protest, despite the international hype over the burned cars, injured policeman and trashed state-owned tv station. There are port-o-potties, and tents with water, and people waving signs saying things like "new elections" and numerous speakers. Sometimes, a folk singer will get up and sing Hungarian protest songs, while teenagers giggle and old couples stroll around holding hands and families spread out picnics on blankets. This is not in any way to be compared to the scene of Hungary's revolutionary attempt of 1956, when the soviets bloodily crushed a rebellion against the communist government. (Though many news agencies have been ordered, quite pointlessly, to try and make the comparison anyway).

No, Hungary isn't burning, not even close. But people are upset and frustrated with politics, and it can be felt here, deeply, even by a casual interloper like me. While Americans have their Sept. 11, Hungarians now have their Sept. 18.

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A caveat, here – I'm hardly the person to talk authoritatively on this topic. I just moved to Budapest a little under two weeks ago. I don't speak Hungarian, and I don't have a tv or radio. I don't know many Budapest residents, so I wasn't even aware when people began collecting Sunday in front of the monolithic, baroque-style parliament building in front of the Danube River. I didn't personally hear the tape that got everyone so mad, a tape containing a frank and some say foul-mouthed speech by Hungary's 45-year-old prime minister, in which he cajoled his party that they had done nothing for Hungary except to get elected and that they „lied to the people in the morning and in the evening.”

Because of all these things, I slept peacefully through the night as a couple hundred protesters began attacking the state-run television building, setting fire to cars, overwhelming the police force and smashing windows. They yelled that the PM should resign, they shouted that their bankrupt national soccer team, Fradi, should be put back in the premiere league, and a few were even heard to shout "dirty jews," for no apparent reason other than the instant reflex people have here to hate certain groups.

So with this caveat, I can only tell you the limited scope of what I know, which is what people here tell me. This violence, which most people view as a small sideshow, is not the point. The bigger, peaceful protest – this definitely means something.

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Last Saturday, the day before the tape broke, I booked a walking tour of Budapest. As we trudged through the center of town, just six blocks south of the parliament building, a group of about 200 people gathered, listening to a speaker and waving signs on red pieces of paper.

Our guide, Szuszi, ushered us past. To our questions of "who are they?” she replied only

"They are in some kind of opposition, I think.”

Later, Szuszi explained to me that the ruling government party, the Hungarian Socialist Party, had recently proposed what were referred to as "austerity measures." In addition to paying 50 percent of their paycheck to taxes, the government now wanted to charge money for higher education and healthcare. This made Szuszi really upset.

"It isn't fair,” she said. "Now, how will poor families get their children educated?”

Szuszi guides tours only on the weekend, because she loves it. During the week, she works for IBM's global human resource division, which moved to Budapest two years ago to cut costs. Szuszi has no illusions about this job – she knows she has the job because she costs less than someone in another country. She says the job pays reasonably well for Budapest, but is well aware that there is no paid overtime, nor other benefits. She smiles a little bitterly. "We are cheap," she tells me.

Likewise, she explains, no one has illusions that Hungary is financially stable. Everyone knows that something had to be done to raise money, but the way in which the government had proposed it was too dramatic. It had led to huge political fights between the socialists and the leading opposition party, called the Young Democrats, who don't seem to have concrete plans of their own, but accuse the socialists of moving too far and too fast with their "austerity package." The fight between supporters of these two parties has been so intense at times, it has actually broken up families and long-time friendships.

All this political infighting, rather than policy making, has gotten Hungarians like Suszi distrustful of all government. "And they probably lie and steal money, too,” she said, as an afterthought.

I heard this said many times over the past week whenever I met a Hungarian. It must have really rankled when the taped words "We lied to the public” were heard coming from the mouth of their leader. Depending on whether you were on the sides of the socialists or the opposition party, it was taken in very different ways. Regardless, there wasn't even a pretense that things are just fine.


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On Tuesday afternoon, I wander by the parliament building. Though police stand in riot gear behind a fenced gate, a few hundred protesters mingle cheerfully, eating hot dogs and listening to worn-looking speakers. It has the relaxed feel of a social gathering or a company picnic.

A sign in English posted on the parliament gate warns that "due to a special parliament activity, no tours will be given of the building today."

I wait, but it all seems pretty low-key, so I soon wander off. I figure it's quieted down.

I figure wrong. That evening, as most of the protesters headed home for the night, a small band of youth wind up in another section of town. Again there are fights, pounding of policeman, some scrapping, some rock-throwing and window-breaking, in front of the office of the Prime Minister's Hungarian Socialist Party, which was the headquarters for the old communists.

Over and over again, for the next few nights, on every television set in every bar and restaurant, the tv news plays clips from the events, labeling it simply "Sept. 18" and "Sept. 19." People's eyes, including mine, are often glued to the screen.

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Jim (not his real name) is 24, born in the US of Hungarian parents, now working in his father's company in Budapest. He's been to the protest in front of parliament every night this week.

"It's totally chill there," he says. Jim separates the larger group, the thousands he has been joining nightly, with those couple hundred involved in the violence on Sept. 18 and the 50 involved in the unrest on Sept. 19.

There is a theory, he says, that the government hired soccer hooligans to create the violence, to shed a poor light on what he calls the "legitimate, peaceful protests" down the street. He says the rumor is that the government lured them with promises that the poor, bankrupt Hungarian soccer team, Fradi, which recently had to drop down a league, would be injected with cash to build its reputation back up again.

"Why would protesters be yelling about the soccer team?" he says. "That doesn't make any sense."

Rumors like these are probably unfounded. Most likely, there was a small group of Hungarian extreme rightists and skinheads who took advantage of the protests to cause some trouble, and vent some of their bitterness out. The majority of people out protesting didn't participate in any violent acts.

Regardless, the point is not the violence, but the fact that pepole are continuing to gather every day on the streets. Jim says he and many other Hungarians are disgusted by the way their country is being run. Nothing makes sense, he says, and rules are designed to make it difficult for businessmen, and for the poor. He lists several examples, of fake companies created to avoid tax collection, the government giving bloated contracts to their friends. Cheating happens all the time, he says, and people are tired of it.

"This isn't just about the tapes," he says, shaking his head in frustration. "It's about 1956."

A time when Hungary was forced into a government it didn't choose, when the soviets quelled a rebellion with a bloody, iron fist. It's an experience, of course, Jim doesn't personally remember, but which he has inherited from his father's generation.

The issue, of course, is not so straightforward, according to Michael Logan, a journalist who has been covering Hungary for two years for a German news agency and the English-language Budapest Times.

It's not about 1956, he says. The problem is that if these political parties don't start acting more seriously, people will completely lose faith in the political system. That could cause a serious crisis down the road.

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