S
Szalakóta
April 4, 2006
MDSZP Party Headquarters
(& PM Ferenc Gyertyán’s headspace)
Budapest, Hungary
The room is finally quiet. Only the City murmurs in the background – distant traffic, people and dog’s voice from Republic Square, a siren wailing somewhere along Rákóczi Avenue. Inside, a mess. Papers, poll numbers, coffee-stained briefing notes covering the table. Bullet points on the whiteboard. The scent of alcohol markers in the air.
A dull headache. The Prime Minister rubs his temple, his palm slick with sweat.
This is where years of patience, scheming, and confidence games have brought him. His brief career in the Communist Youth League, the wealth acquired during the post-Communist transition, a decade in the private sector, and finally – his return to politics and the outmanoeuvring of his predecessor (that fool!) in intra-party fights.
And now? An eminently winnable election in a week, and still everything hanging by a thread. His stomach twists.
He inherited a mess. He knew it, but pretended otherwise. Meggyess (that fool!) lavished the country in money to fulfil campaign promises no same leader could afford to honour. Sure, nurses and civil servants deserved better. But not at the cost of the budget spiralling into oblivion by midterm.
What a moron!
Gyertyán was almost shaking in anger. If Meggyess (that fool!) waited just a year or two, that money could have secured us the 2006 election. Going on a fiscal spending spree before elections is fine. Doing that for an entire four-year term – destroys the economy. And now Gyertyán was supposed to make corrections. To implement austerity measures. A foolproof way to lose 2006. To hand over the country to that c*nt Urbán.
That was not an option. He was an idealist, but also a pragmatist. He believed that only the Left can move things forward in this goddamn country, but to do that, they had to win elections first. So, he made no correction. He was playing along. He almost perished because of how hard he had to pretend for 18 months that he was governing. He swept the problems under the carpet until the junk pile has become more like a mountain. The skeletons in the cabinet an Army of the Undead. All waiting to rise and devour him.
And now elections are imminent. Urbán and the Right are beatable. That’s not the problem. The problem is what comes after.
Because even if Gyertyán wins, what begins is the war to unf*ck the country. Will his own party back him? Of course not. MSZDP is full of opportunists who care more about their travel reimbursements than whether pensioners can afford medication or Roma kids can go to college. His coalition partners, the Liberals? They are loose cannons. Pro-market reforms are necessary, but they must be sugar-coated, not rammed through with neoliberal zeal – which is what they always demand.
Anyhow, either austerity measured kick in in six months, or the country does bankrupt in twelve. And then Urbán and his right-wing goons come back with a two-third constitution-rewriting supermajority. Hopefully only in 2010. Sooner if it comes to holding emergency elections. Hell, he might just take matters to the street. Yes. He’ll burn the Parliament Building down on top of us!
Gyertyán clenches his jaws. Everyone knows what Urbán is. An autocrat at heart. When he was in power in 1998-2002, he already tried to build his own little kingdom and… well… recapitalise his family by any corrupt means necessary. Then, when he lost, he refused to concede. He came up with the ridiculous idea that they deserve to be in power because they are the ‘national side’ of Hungarian politics. The national side! As if everyone else wasn’t. F*ck them! If Urbán comes back now and gets to re-write the Constitution, he’ll drag the country down in the Deep Balkans. No, in post-Soviet Central Asia.
Urbán mustn’t win now and mustn’t win in four years. And he mustn’t be let to lead a popular revolt against us. So, what to do?
A grand bargain. A new Great Compromise. 1867 reloaded.
I must beat Urbán and then negotiate from a position of strength. To contain him. To disarm him and give him a stake in the system before he turns his base against the Republic for good. But what can we offer?
The Prime Minister’s mind races. Urbán is no fool and he won’t fall for something purely symbolic. He’ll feel he needs to demonstrate to his base that he has defeated the ‘Commies’. What is more than a symbol but not too dangerous in Urbán’s hand?
Maybe if he gets to become the symbol? Like, the Presidency, with some extra policy role and a riverside panorama in the Buda Castle added? Hey friend, do you want to be the embodiment of Hungary’s entire democratic experiment? This could actually work. After all, other than a sharp political mind, Urbán is also a massive narcissist. He could commit suicide by jumping off his ego. He could now become the father of the nation. A mini-Atatürk. A pocked e Gaulle. A bonsai Kekkonen. This would massage his self-worth.
But keep real power in Parliament. With me as Prime Minister. Urbán can summon me to the Castle whenever he likes, but if he’s brought on board now, he won’t have a supermajority in four years. And then the danger is averted. The Republic survives.
Of course, it’s still dangerous. Gyertyán lied and pretended his way through so much, and it’s now catching up to him. Urbán may well just call his bluff. But there is no choice.
A grand bargain then. Well, tomorrow is the prime ministerial debate. Urbán thrives in one-sided conflicts, but he really folds under pressure. I could DESTROY him on the floor!
But no. Gyertyán will not go full wrecking ball. Not this time. Tomorrow, the Prime Minister will be measured and civil. Urbán may burn bridges, but he won’t. We need to remain on speaking terms.
I must vomit.
