Tuesday, March 23, 2010
"Romanians and Székely must set aside their Prejudicies" - Adevărul
The daily Adevărul attempts to calm the heated debate over the autonomy of the Hungarian-speaking Székely minority in Romania. "The Romanian legend that you can't buy bread in Székely Land [because of linguistic problems] still haunts people's minds. The Székely, for their part, tend to view the Romanian authorities more as an occupying power than as a partner. Romanian and Hungarian intellectuals will nod to each other in greeting but they speak rarely, if at all. Not so much as a word is wasted over a common school textbook on the history of Transylvania. We know so little about each other! ... Should we really shelve the idea of administrative reform along European lines just because we're not able to give Székely Land a fitting status? This question should no longer be left to the propagandists, but should be the subject of an honest political debate in which every side renounces something for the common good, so that both the Székely and the Romanians feel equally at home. Europe has plenty of examples from which to take inspiration." (22/03/2010)
Friday, March 19, 2010
Hungary fuels language dispute with Slovakia (SME, Slovakia)
The government in Bratislava allegedly wants to introduce stricter controls on the Slovakian language skills of schoolchildren belonging to the Hungarian minority. The move is a response to a demand by Hungarian President László Sólyom that children of Hungarian minorities abroad should learn Hungarian as their first language. The liberal daily Sme has no time for this new turn in the language conflict: "The dispute over education in the majority language for children of a minority is typical of how politicians can stir up conflicts that would never arise without them. ... The Hungarian president has no idea in this matter. If he wants improvement he can raise the issue with the responsible commission, but not at an event in [the Northern Serbian province] Vojvodina. The mildly psychotic Slovakian Prime Minister [Robert Fico] was certain to react in kind. ... The current 'reinforcement' of school inspections will only be a torment for Hungarian pupils and teachers. All thanks to Sólyom." (18/03/2010)
Saturday, March 6, 2010
the problem with politics in Hungary - article from Népszabadság, MAR 02 2010
The Hungarian parliament last week passed a law banning denial of the Holocaust. But the parties in Hungary are conducting a false historical discourse, writes political scientist Rafael Labanino in the left-liberal daily Népszabadság: "The political debates on the past in fact relate to the present. We see that as regards contentious issues like the Holocaust and the crimes of communism, the Socialists and the Conservatives are trying to deny each other's political correctness, democratic convictions and loyalty to the nation. The two largest political camps in Hungary do not see each other as part of the whole. They see each other as a threat to the community. The inability of the parties to reach a consensus on certain important events of our past hinders us from finding a solution to the problems of the present. This won't change as long as the way we think about our own history adheres to false schemas." (05/03/2010)
» full article (external link, Hungarian)
More from the press review on the subject » Domestic Policy, » History, » Remembrance culture, » Hungary
» full article (external link, Hungarian)
More from the press review on the subject » Domestic Policy, » History, » Remembrance culture, » Hungary
Thursday, February 25, 2010
An Article in this week's Economist about the End of History in Central Europe
The end of history, revisited
From Economist.com
The ex-communist states of eastern Europe are leaving their pasts behind
WHERE would they be without their past, the ex-captive nations? (Or "ex-communist countries", "former Soviet satellite states", "the old Eastern block": so much history even in the category). The region between the Baltic and the Black Sea is so shaped by history that at first sight the question seems absurd. Trianon, Yalta, Molotov-Ribbentrop, Munich—the gloomy echoes of past betrayals and atrocities are inescapable.
For the past 20 years, the countries of this region have been involved in what might be called "therapeutic historiography": tearing up old communist propaganda versions of history, and writing new ones. That has been an exhilarating, messy and sometimes disconcerting process. For Estonians and Latvians, for example, it meant the chance to honour those (heroes or victims, but not villains) who fought against the impending Soviet occupation in 1944-45. Yet many outsiders see these men as no more than Nazi collaborators: they wore uniforms of the SS, the epitome of wartime evil, and served alongside some war criminals. Context and comparison (far more Russians than Balts fought on Hitler's side) become irrelevant.
Slovaks and Croats want to de-demonise their wartime republics (Nazi puppet states from one viewpoint, a snatched breath of national regeneration from another). Germans and Jews, once seemingly vanished from the region, have emerged from the shadows (and from abroad), with their own unhappy memories that undermine the self-righteousness of both Communist and ethno-nationalist versions of history.
Yet re-examining taboos is a self-limiting process: you run out of them after a bit. And historical inquiry inevitably bogs down in complexity. The communist version of history may have been mostly lies, but the western version has holes in it too. If you like closely reasoned historical monographs, you may spend your evenings examining the interplay between the Munich agreement (when Britain and France betrayed Czechoslovakia) and the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact (when Hitler and Stalin carved up Europe). For most people, it is enough that the latter deal is no longer secret or glorified.
In the luckier half of the continent, history has a much shorter half-life. Who worries about the Schleswig-Holstein question when looking at Danish-German relations? Who cares that Norway was once part of Sweden, or that Finland used to be a Grand Duchy of Czarist Russia?
Now central and eastern Europe may be joining the club of the ahistorical and apathetic. Historical rows are already the exception, not the rule. Poland is the signal example. In recent years it has successfully pursued reconciliation with Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Germany and even (albeit in limited terms) with Russia. The picture is marred only by a recent flare-up with Belarus, and a tiresome squabble with Lithuania about spelling. The recent ripple of protest in Poland when Ukraine's outgoing president, Viktor Yushchenko, made the wartime nationalist leader Stepan Bandera a "Hero of Ukraine" was interesting not because it exemplified the two countries' rows over history, but because it came after years in which they had sorted out so much.
Hungary's neighbourhood is transformed too. Relations with Slovakia are tense, thanks to a badly drafted language law there and some silly politicking. But Hungarians' real animosity is directed towards the Austrians, who have (they feel) betrayed them by selling shares in MOL, the Hungarian energy company, to Russians against their will. The historically difficult relationships with Serbia, Romania and Ukraine, all home to Magyar minorities, look chummy in comparison.
That reflects a big shift. As western Europe flounders, the old patronising and unfair treatment of the "east Europeans" is no longer sustainable. Change is in the wind. Power is up for grabs. And it is more fun than history.
Copyright © 2010 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group. All rights reserved.
From Economist.com
The ex-communist states of eastern Europe are leaving their pasts behind
WHERE would they be without their past, the ex-captive nations? (Or "ex-communist countries", "former Soviet satellite states", "the old Eastern block": so much history even in the category). The region between the Baltic and the Black Sea is so shaped by history that at first sight the question seems absurd. Trianon, Yalta, Molotov-Ribbentrop, Munich—the gloomy echoes of past betrayals and atrocities are inescapable.
For the past 20 years, the countries of this region have been involved in what might be called "therapeutic historiography": tearing up old communist propaganda versions of history, and writing new ones. That has been an exhilarating, messy and sometimes disconcerting process. For Estonians and Latvians, for example, it meant the chance to honour those (heroes or victims, but not villains) who fought against the impending Soviet occupation in 1944-45. Yet many outsiders see these men as no more than Nazi collaborators: they wore uniforms of the SS, the epitome of wartime evil, and served alongside some war criminals. Context and comparison (far more Russians than Balts fought on Hitler's side) become irrelevant.
Slovaks and Croats want to de-demonise their wartime republics (Nazi puppet states from one viewpoint, a snatched breath of national regeneration from another). Germans and Jews, once seemingly vanished from the region, have emerged from the shadows (and from abroad), with their own unhappy memories that undermine the self-righteousness of both Communist and ethno-nationalist versions of history.
Yet re-examining taboos is a self-limiting process: you run out of them after a bit. And historical inquiry inevitably bogs down in complexity. The communist version of history may have been mostly lies, but the western version has holes in it too. If you like closely reasoned historical monographs, you may spend your evenings examining the interplay between the Munich agreement (when Britain and France betrayed Czechoslovakia) and the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact (when Hitler and Stalin carved up Europe). For most people, it is enough that the latter deal is no longer secret or glorified.
In the luckier half of the continent, history has a much shorter half-life. Who worries about the Schleswig-Holstein question when looking at Danish-German relations? Who cares that Norway was once part of Sweden, or that Finland used to be a Grand Duchy of Czarist Russia?
Now central and eastern Europe may be joining the club of the ahistorical and apathetic. Historical rows are already the exception, not the rule. Poland is the signal example. In recent years it has successfully pursued reconciliation with Ukraine, the Czech Republic, Germany and even (albeit in limited terms) with Russia. The picture is marred only by a recent flare-up with Belarus, and a tiresome squabble with Lithuania about spelling. The recent ripple of protest in Poland when Ukraine's outgoing president, Viktor Yushchenko, made the wartime nationalist leader Stepan Bandera a "Hero of Ukraine" was interesting not because it exemplified the two countries' rows over history, but because it came after years in which they had sorted out so much.
Hungary's neighbourhood is transformed too. Relations with Slovakia are tense, thanks to a badly drafted language law there and some silly politicking. But Hungarians' real animosity is directed towards the Austrians, who have (they feel) betrayed them by selling shares in MOL, the Hungarian energy company, to Russians against their will. The historically difficult relationships with Serbia, Romania and Ukraine, all home to Magyar minorities, look chummy in comparison.
That reflects a big shift. As western Europe flounders, the old patronising and unfair treatment of the "east Europeans" is no longer sustainable. Change is in the wind. Power is up for grabs. And it is more fun than history.
Copyright © 2010 The Economist Newspaper and The Economist Group. All rights reserved.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Szigetköz, Hungary
The Szigetköz is an area of approximately 45 km long, starting at the Hungarian-Austrian border (Mosonmagyaróvár).
It is an environmental protection area, rich in flora and fauna which was put into danger by the Böcs dam project.
The area is ideal for turism: folk traditions, thermal water, hundreds of km of bike paths.
This picture was taken in October in the evening during a fishing trip with the father of a dear friend.
It is an environmental protection area, rich in flora and fauna which was put into danger by the Böcs dam project.
The area is ideal for turism: folk traditions, thermal water, hundreds of km of bike paths.
This picture was taken in October in the evening during a fishing trip with the father of a dear friend.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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