Jan-Werner Müller’s latest encounter with Hungary

Jan-Werner Müller has written a number of scholarly books and articles. I thought highly of several of his writings, but he loses all credibility when he writes about Hungary. And he does so often, it’s not going too far to suggest that he’s becoming obsessional about Hungary, the Fidesz government and, predictably Viktor Orbán.

His central message, in so far as one can be discerned, is that what the Fidesz government is doing is dangerous to democracy, it’s setting a terrible precedent (who knows, the Fidesz strategy might actually be working?) and is a frightful threat to liberalism.

One of his recent contributions appeared in the London Review of Books (paywall). It’s a meretricious piece of writing, spiked with half truths and decontextualised factoids. The underlying thinking, however, is rather more serious and raises vital questions of parity of esteem and respect for alternative ways of understanding political problems.

Not for the first time, someone coming with a liberal universalist epistemology seeks to impose the selfsame universalism on others who do things differently. The name for this is colonialism and it is an intellectual imperialist mindset that Müller epitomises, even to the extent of listening only to Hungary’s comprador intelligentsia. It’s something that Marx would certainly have been able to identify. By the same token, Müller’s liberalism does not include much in the way of tolerance and to judge from his writings on populism (here), his attitude to popular aspirations is strikingly elitist.

I wrote a letter to London Review of Books, challenging Müller on some his points about Hungary, but the LRB chose not to publish it. Here is slightly edited version of what I wrote:

Jan-Werner Müller relies on a sophisticated technique to create a less than reliable picture of Hungary under the Fidesz government. He provides plenty of information, but just not quite enough to give a balanced picture.

He starts by describing the events of 1956 as “an uprising”, evidently not being aware of the distinction between a revolution and an uprising (like the great French uprising of 1789 perhaps?). No Hungarian would ever describe 1956 as an uprising. Nor was the Kádár regime quite as agreeable as the rose-tinted view of it that Müller offers. He makes no mention of the petty humiliations of everyday life that much of the population had to undergo, of the way in which the communist system infantilised the people and denied them any concept of citizenship.

“Undermining the rule of law”, charges Müller, but offers no evidence; there is none. Then, allegedly, “paramilitaries in black uniforms patrol the streets”; no, they don’t, the Fidesz government banned them. Tourists are “liable to find themselves facing an angry crowd burning the EU flag”, he avers. Again, no. This happened once. And was the crowd really “angry”? Was he there? Just poetic licence, presumably, like so much else in his article.

“Shadow economy” and “tax evasion”, Müller asserts, yes, but these are diminishing thanks to the reforms passed by the Fidesz government. Or, a nice detail to make him appear authoritative, referring to the exit from communism, “which Hungarians simply call ‘the changes’”. No they don’t, though the few that Müller encountered might have simplified “rendszerváltás” for him. It’s best rendered as “system shift”. The “deep” v. “shallow” Hungarians contrast disappeared a long time ago; I haven’t heard it for 50 years. Incidentally, the word “shallow” is better translated as “dilute”. And in its time, in the 1930s, it was more directed against assimilated Germans, but never mind, why should Müller be accurate about Hungary?

And so it continues. The national theatre “on the banks of the Danube” (that bit’s right at least) may be “bombastic” to Müller, but one does not need accept him as a critic of the Central European aesthetic. Or Péter Medgyessy: yes, he was a banker, but rather more to the point, he had worked for the communist secret police. I’m not sure that Müller would have welcomed a former member of the Abwehr as German Chancellor in 1957, or would he? The parallel is exact.

Gyurcsány may have been charismatic to Müller, but then he is not Hungarian. And why, I wonder, does he not mention that Gyurcsány’s wealth was acquired during the semi-legal privatisations of state property of the late 1980s? Another missing detail – the initiative to have Gyurcsány prosecuted came from a member of the LMP, a leftwing, anti-Fidesz party.

The events of 23 October 2006 were really rather more than police “overreaction” to a demonstration. What took place was a massive attack on a peaceful demonstration, with the riot police firing tear gas grenades and rubber bullets directly into the crowd, with mounted police charges, the pursuit of dispersing demonstrators into the night and the torture of those caught – all this in an EU member state. It’s strange, though, that there was not a squeak about this at the time in the world media, even while since 2010 there has been constant criticism of the Fidesz government’s violation of human rights. A double standard? Well, some Hungarians can be forgiven for thinking so.

Or, again, Trianon; the problem was (and is) not that Hungary lost two-thirds of its territory, but that over 3 million Hungarians found themselves citizens of foreign states, something to which they never consented. This has seriously weakened the citizenship concept of the states involved, because they have proved incapable of accepting that their Hungarian population has ideals, aspirations, sense of the past that are different from those of the ethnic majority.

“It’s not clear how many responded or what they said” in response to the questionnaire about the draft constitution; both untrue. The figure is just under one million and the views expressed are freely available to anyone (who reads Hungarian).

Finally what Müller does not see is that constant attacks on Hungary from abroad, like his, do not go unnoticed. My constituents have become markedly more Eurosceptic and introverted in consequence, something I regret, and the attacks could well help to secure Fidesz a victory in the 2014 elections. No one likes to be criticised unfairly and that includes Hungarians.

Sch. Gy.

The Crisis in Europe Part I

What we are looking at is far more than an economic crisis and far more than a crisis of European integration, even if much of the analysis chooses to explore it from this perspective. While the perspective is valid in itself, it has the consequence of hiding other processes – political, cultural, sociological – that affect the crisis and, by ignoring them, we make the solution of the crisis less likely. In short, deep seated changes taking place in Europe and some of these are partly accelerated by the economic crisis, which has exposed the fragility of Western material well-being. It is in this sense that the word crisis is appropriate – social realities are increasingly out of alignment with institutions and elite thinking.

The crisis has also brought into question the reliability of both state and market as the central organising principle of Western democracy. After 1945, a great deal of trust was invested in the state as rational redistributor and allocator, as well as the ultimate source of rationality. By the late 1970s, this was being questioned and the dysfunctions of the state were to be eliminated by the market. The market, therefore, was seen as the supreme source of rationality. Note here that whereas as the state is and must be a political category, the market is understood as free of politics and is a primarily economic process, albeit culture, psychology and other factors are now recognised as forming a part of market behaviour. What this elevation of the market to paramountcy ignored, however, were and are the political implications of the shift, that this effectively amounted to abandoning politics and political inputs into the central processes of society. Democracy was thereby reduced to something narrower, almost to being a spectator with little legitimate points to make. At the same time, the functioning of the market was naturalised and to some extent sacralised. The supreme rationality of the market ruled and was above and beyond questioning; those who did raise objections were dismissed as “irrational” or as “dinosaurs” or “reactionaries”.

This supremacy of the market, together with the truth claim that market rationality would invariably produce the best answer, that these answers could be applied to any and all social problems, that markets would always return to equilibrium state became unquestionable and irrefutable propositions. One of the minor ironies of this is that it resembled Marxism-Leninism as the sole source of “truth” – all monistic systems do this – but unlike “real existing communism”, which relied on high levels of coercion, market liberalism “enforced” its legislative claims voluntarily, and it became a matter of something close to a faith or belief system. As with all monistic systems, akin to putting all one’s eggs into one basket, it became dangerously exposed to a single, overwhelming shock (cf. Taleb’s Black Swan).

Market supremacy did, however, generate a political counterpart, and this was what can be described as liberal individualism. The individual was invested with supreme, possibly sole, rationality, all interests were subordinated to economic, material or monetary factors, thereby ignoring the multiplicity of human motivations and the role of impulses like pride, the quest for power, status, aesthetics, religion (to name only a few) was simply screened out, regarded as tiresome irrelevancies.

Once the market is established as the paramount process, it then becomes important – possibly vital – to construct a discursive strategy that marginalises political activity, even while maintaining the appearance of politics and participation, as is proper in a democracy. This may be regarded as a shadow or penumbra of the market, a clear but fluid discursive strategy that offers the simulacrum of politics, operating in the preexisting institutional framework, but which is difficult if not impossible to interrogate. Unlike the language of Marxism-Leninism, which became dead, this liberal-market discourse remained and remains sufficiently open to be able to deal with challenges non-coercively. This may be seen as the outcome of the 1990s turn, the elaboration of a strategy that asserts that “politics is management”, or speaks of “good governance” or “benchmarking” and replaces political action with morality, a key aspect of which is to insist that the “spirit” of the process transcends all other possible readings, even while the definition of “spirit” remains in the hands of the dominant elite. It has proved to be an effective trick, because it is difficult to disprove, reverses the presumption of equal access to the truth, i.e. it is up to challenger to do this, and erodes the definition of the reality that might overturn the starting proposition. Thus alternative readings, other discourses are placed in a secondary, hierarchically inferior position and attempts to rely on, say, legal or administrative language can be set to one side. Arcadian shepherds and their semblables may be able to operate this system in a fair-minded way, but Arcadia is a very long way from contemporary Europe, hence the possibility (and reality) that arbitrariness, inconsistency and abuses of power can proliferate. The result is resentment on the part of those who do not agree with the quasi-belief system and are marginalised; and resentment is the breeding ground for polarisation, for the rise of counter-belief systems, for political hysteria and paranoia, all of which feed into extremism. Circumspice.

At the heart of the 1990s turn, the emergence of a vaguely centre-left consensus structured around liberal individualism, market freedom and the centrality of moral values (universalism, human rights, gender mainstreaming, citizenship replacing ethnicity, a democracy agenda). By this means, a morality-driven, value-centred discourse sought to create and sustain a particular concept of politics (the liberal consensus and moralisation are analysed in Chantal Mouffe’s work, notably in the book on populism edited by Francisco Panizza).

This concept can be regarded as an attempt at constructing a post-political politics, in that it sought to eliminate political conflict and preferred to resolve issues through “politics as management”, administratively or juridically. Crucially, this separated liberal democracy from the demos, because it necessarily excluded certain social strata, above all the semi-skilled working class. Those who would not or could not subscribe to the market-cum-morality concept of post-political politics – and there’s a contradiction in terms if ever there was one – were basically excluded from its remit. Although the proponents of this new order placed great emphasis on citizenship buttressed by the “empowering state”, in sociological reality, matters were different. Non-elite sectors of the demos were simply excluded from it, although they were certainly not seen as victims of social exclusion. Not surprisingly some of them turned elsewhere to find a political home – towards the extreme right and the extreme left.

Sch. Gy.

Genocide and Raphael Lemkin

A Conference was held in Geneva on the 20 June 2012 to launch the Raphael Lemkin International Prize for the Prevention of Genocide and Mass Atrocities. I was asked to make a few concluding remarks.

What is profoundly shocking, deeply disturbing about the Nazi genocide is that it employed the methods and instruments of the modern state for utterly evil ends. What I have in mind here is the impersonal, detached functioning of a modern state bureaucracy, its methods of organisation, communication, maintaining registers, transport, logistics – all aspects of Weber’s legal-rationality – which are then deployed for mass killing.

We know from the Milgram experiment that hierarchy, command and authority are often sufficient to override individual conscience, resulting in the dehumanisation of the victims, if authority so commands.

Zygmunt Bauman (building on Adorno) makes it clear that the Holocaust was not inexplicable or incommensurable, but can be understood as one possible outcome of modernity, namely the industrialisation of killing.

All this is profoundly disturbing, because it wholly undermines the Enlightenment assumption (a) that there is a single humanity - it undermines the idea of a single humanity, because genocide is irrefutable evidence that one human group perfectly capable is seeking to exterminate another. (b) That rationality is benign and (c) that history is moving towards something progressive, with a positive outcome (this last is deeply encoded in Marxism, liberalism and Christianity).

Hence there is the impossible, intolerable conclusion that rationality can result in dystopia – this necessarily questions the entire Enlightenment project and places an intolerable burden on Europe and the West; hence the propensity to argue that the Holocaust was absolute and an anomaly, there was never any event that could (and should) be compared with it.

However appalling it was, nevertheless we should not be mesmerised by Auschwitz (and I think this was Lemkin’s position), we should not lose sight of the world’s historical experience both before and since the Holocaust, that there have been mass killings that relied only partly on the instruments of modernity. Thus we can cite mass killings where the methods of modernity established the possibility by collecting the victims using the methods of modernity, but the actual killing was personal and non-industrial.

Lemkin himself accepted the mass killings in the Soviet Union under Stalin as falling under the same category of genocide, notably the Holodomor in Ukraine; Timothy Snyder’s work, in his book Bloodlands, shows that millions of people were starved to death or were shot, including Jewish Holocaust victims. We can further cite Rwanda, Cambodia, Jugoslavia both in 1945 and during the early 1990s, Mao Tse-tung’s famine and others.

Should we be relieved that the majority of mass killings and genocide used methods that we were only partly the instruments of modernity? Hardly.

Lemkin’s legacy, then, is that the Enlightenment may have encoded the promise of universal reason, but history has overridden this, that the instruments of reason are neutral as between rationality and irrationality, and can be deployed for wholly evil purposes in an entirely rational way. It is essential that we confront this proposition, however uncomfortable that may be. Lemkin did.

Sch.Gy.

A nagy álvita – avagy a Magyarországról szóló „vita” koregráfiájáról

Amióta kirobbant a vita a magyar médiatörvényről a nemzetközi sajtóban, és amióta a Fidesz kétharmadot szerzett, több külföldön megrendezett vitán is jelen lehettem, ahol természetesen Schöpflin György is védte a mundér becsületét. A nagyjából két éve zajló vitasorozat sok kérdést felvet, sok mindenen elgondolkodtat. Leginkább a(z ál)vita és vitakultúra állapotát illetően, az érvelés minőségét és szintjeit, a vádaskodás és cáfolat lehetetlen koreográfiáját, a meggyőzés és manipuláció összemosását, az érzelemvezéreltséget – a legtöbb esetben ezek az érzelmek negatívak, indulatosak – , és nem utolsósorban a személyeskedést, és a másik totális megsemmisítésének élvezetét.

A külföldi Magyarországról szóló nyilvános (ál)vitáknak van egy állandó koreográfiája, és valahogy a benne részt vevők is hasonló szerepeket játszanak el. Itt hozzátenném, hogy a külföldi vita idegen nyelven zajlik, ami valljuk be, nem éppen egy fair állapot. A helyzet interpretálásában tehát nem csak egy egynyelvű közvetítés van, hanem az idegen nyelv sajátos kulturális szövete, és ráadásul kevesen vannak ezen tudások birtokában.

A koreográfia azonban már a kiindulópontban megbicsaklik, csak ezt valahogy soha nem sikerül leleplezni, nevezetesen, hogy nem az ártatlanság és a jószándék az előfeltevés, hanem a vádak. Az ártatlanság vélelme a Magyarországot ért kritikákban meg sem jelenik. Ahogy voltaképpen a folyamatok sem érdekelnek senkit, és a nemzetközi összehasonlítások sem igazán hatásosak. Magyarország egy egyedül álló jelenség. Érdekes...

Tehát a meghívott előadó elmondja az általa valóságnak vélt igazságot, vagy az igazságnak vélt valóságot. Ez amolyan kinyilatkoztatás szerű, és a mondanivaló szent szövegként funkcionál. És ez a második banánhéj a vitában. Szent szövegeket nem szokás kétségbe vonni, a szakralizáltság pedig komoly dolog. Pláne, ha ezt hiteles, „objektív”, el nem kötelezett személyiség mondja (előny, ha nem magyar, de természetesen a térség szakértője, vagy esetleg külföldön élő magyar, és még nagyobb előny, ha az illető újságíró), ezzel a trükkel le lehet szerelni bárkit, hiszen mégis csak egy kívülálló tárgyilagos értékítéletét hallja mindenki. Sőt, még jobb a helyzet, ha „áldozatokat” sikerül megszólaltatni. Az áldozatiságot sem szokás kétségbevonni; sajnálkozni, együttérezni, fejet csóválni viszont annál inkább, már csak azért is, mert az áldozati az erkölcsi magaslat. És íme a nagy álvita harmadik csavarja, az érzelmi motiváltság, a tények szabad alkalmazása és az ebből eredeztethető szabad asszociációs zsibvásár.

A beszélők által elmondottak tökéletességet jelentenek, és ebben a tekintetben egy zárt rendszert alkotnak. A zártság azonban nem csak a beszédet jellemzi, hanem a beszédet követő vita során sajnos kiderül, hogy maga a kognitív szint is zárt: nem befogadók, hanem kirekesztők a szereplők. A vitázó felek egymás érveléseire nem igazán szoktak reflektálni, ami nem meglepő, hiszen igazságok, valóságok és ezek interpretációjának egymással való ütköztetése zajlik. Csillagok háborúja. A vita így egy hatalmas egymás melletti elbeszélésbe sodródik – amolyan csehovi dráma-szerűen, de nem rezignáltságban, hanem a teljes hergeltségben.

És mikor már majdnem elértük a katarzis állapotát, ekkor kapcsolódhat a vitába a közönség. Csak sajnos katarzis helyett, egy újabb ismétlés hullám következik: a vitázó felek echói hangzanak el újra, amolyan önmegerősítő rítusként. Újból leképeződik az eddigi álvita, annyi különbséggel, hogy most már az érzelmi tölteten lehet a hangsúly. Kérdések, álkérdések és provokációk hangzanak el, terepet adva a személyeskedéseknek. Az érvelés, mint módszer szertefoszlik, világossá válik a vita végcélja: a partner diszkvalifikációja és megsemmisítése. Természetesen a vita után sem történik semmi drámai, mindenki épségben marad, hiszen a zárványok, igazságok és valóságok sértetlenül megmaradnak, és folyamatosan újratermelődnek.

Sajnos, ami ebből a koreográfiából hiányzik az a humor, az önreflexivitás képessége, és az esetlegesség elfogadása. Amíg a legtöbb vitázó fél az egyetlen létező igazságban gondolkodik, mindezt objektívnek véli és képtelen önmaga kritikájára, addig minden vita fölösleges. Amíg nem figyel oda a partnere mondanivalójára, és nem tud a mondandó és a személy között különbséget tenni, nem is érdemes nekikezdeni.

Az álvita pedig egy jó módszer a hergelésre, de nem a megbeszélésre.

kng

Transitions, some general thoughts

The Sixth Annual Lennart Meri conference, organised by the Estonian International Centre for Defence Studies, was held in Tallinn on 11-13 May. I was asked to speak at a session entitled “Stolen Promises? Learning from the Ukrainian and Egyptian Revolutions”. This is an edited text of my contribution.

The central objective of institution building must be to bring formal and informal institutions as close to each other as possible. This is much more difficult than appears at first sight, not least because the models – both explicit and implicit – are derived from the alien experience of Europe and US.

But if the gap between the formal and the informal is too great, then the formal institutions will not work as they are supposed to. They are very likely to be captured by informality and, in consequence, they will not generate trust. Crucially, the institutions that are supposed to mediate power between rulers and ruled will be deployed to the advantage of one group against others.

Closing this gap between the formal and informal is especially vital in the construction of legality and the rule of law.

Understanding the sociology of the society in question is essential, otherwise the solutions will not work well. Distinguishing between structural factors and contingent ones is also vital. The world is very diverse, so beware of the one-size fits all universalism.

Thus in societies that are based on extended family systems or patron-client networks or ethno-religious communities, Western-type citizenship concepts will be a façade. Those operating these systems will become adept at using the language that the West expects to hear, but matters will remain at the level of words. Note too that such concealment is well understood in the non-West. It is particularly misleading to refer to these phenomena as “sectarianism” or “nepotism”, because that conceals the sociological reality of the society in question, as well as importing an external normativity.

Design questions.

[1] Deal with the past rapidly, open all the secret police archives, the pain will not last more than a couple of years (GDR). Otherwise, the past will poison the political atmosphere. A lingering sense of injustice is corrosive.

[2] A caesura is very helpful, a revolution or a narrative of revolution is useful here (the Velvet Revolution in the Czech Republic is one example). A radical break between the past and the future can also help to marginalise the members of the ancien regime. If the carry-over from the past is too great, then this can be a serious brake on political development and carries with the dangers of some kind of a restoration.

[3] A citizenship concept should be formulated early on, not least as part of the new constitutional order. It should be inclusive, but not wholly open otherwise people will conclude that it’s not worth that much. If religion is a part of your society, then make it explicit, give it a formal role in the system. The secularised West finds this very difficult to understand.

[4] Crucially, start from the existing social structure and from ideology or aspirations or wish fulfilment fantasies. Do not accept unthinkingly what Western advisers tell you (read Janine Wedel’s book Collision and Collusion). The straightforward import of institutions is seldom successful anyway.

[5] Note that society’s expectations of change will intensify (rising expectations) and these cannot all be met. The lack of society’s political experience can mean expectations that are impossible to meet in practice; the result can be a kind of naïve cynicism.

[6] Do not neglect the symbols and rituals that sustain political systems (the West, with its mythic narrative of rationality does not really understand this). They are a way of including quite disparate groups.

[7] Equality and inequality. Once you reach a certain level of economic wellbeing, equivalence is a better goal. There will never a wholly equal distribution of power, but access to power, opportunity and status can remain open, even in plural societies, i.e. ethnically divided. The quest for full equality is dystopic and can legitimate authoritarian patterns of redistribution.

Sch. Gy.

 

From Occupation to Occupation: Hungary’s Brief Encounter with Democracy 1944-1947

A conference was held in the European Parliament on the 9 May with the title “Occupation after Liberation”. This is a somewhat expanded version of my contribution .

Hungary was a German ally in the Second World War from 1941 and took major losses – around 100,000 casualties – at Voronezh. In exchange, as it were, it received back some of the (mostly) Hungarian-inhabited territories that it had lost under the Treaty of Trianon in 1920. At the same time, Hungary was not a Nazi state. While constrained to undertake forced labour and subjected to other forms of discrimination, Jews were not threatened with extermination. More remarkably, the Social Democrats were still sitting Parliament and, given wartime conditions, the press remained relatively free. Clandestine negotiations with the Allies continued and was a source of growing irritation to the Germans. In March 1944, they occupied Hungary, launched the extermination of the Jews that claimed over half a million victims and eventually allowed a Hungarian Nazi regime (the Arrow Cross) to take power (October 1944).

The Red Army entered Hungary in the same month, began the siege of Budapest in December, and ended hostilities on Hungarian soil in April 1945. There were enormous losses and terrible devastation.

The Hungarian communists were weak with perhaps 800 members at the end of the war. They had the unique distinction of having run the only failed communist regime, the 133 days of the Hungarian Soviet Republic of 1919, to look back on, hence it had to rely very extensively on Soviet backing to achieve its aims. The Allied Control Commission was largely run by the Kremlin and was a primary actor in this process. The communists’ appetite grew with the eating. They began expecting a major success in the November 1945 elections, but gained only 17 percent.

A kind of partial democracy existed until 1947, though it was constantly attacked by the communists with the active support of the Soviets. The 1945 coalition government was a decidedly strange institution in that it included its own opposition, the left. The communists did what they could to destabilise the government from within, above all to destroy the unity of the majority Smallholders – this was the so-called “salami tactics”, destroying the Smallholders slice by slice. The communists simultaneously took control of the machinery of state when and where they could and repeatedly sabotaged the policies of the democratic forces. The communists had two further advantages – they were untainted by the failures of the interwar years and, equally, given their association with the Soviet Union, they basked in the reflected glory of being on the winning side in the Second World War, something which could not be said of the right. Their actions were marked by great dynamism, unscrupulousness and a readiness to employ terror against their opponents.

As against this, strategically, Hungary was of secondary significance to the Kremlin and probably it had not definitively decided what future Hungary (and Czechoslovakia) should have in the communist system. This allowed the non-communists some hope that they could survive as political forces. It was not to be.

By late 1947, it was made clear (at Szklarska Poręba) that full communist control in the Stalinist mode was to be the future. This situation was exacerbated by the breach with Tito in 1948 (Hungary was the front line against Jugoslavia and a planned invasion would have used Hungarian territory). The Social Democrats were “merged” with the CP in 1948 and other parties, not least those which had performed well in the 1947 elections, were banned. The CP itself was purged, Moscow style, beginning in 1949 with classical show trials, torture, confessions, executions, the lot – they can be seen as a purification ritual, carrying the message that the party was omnipotent and omniscient. The brief encounter with democracy was well and truly over.

Stalinisation followed rapidly, with Soviet advisors to lend a hand when and where the Hungarian comrades were proving inadequate. From 1950 onwards, the bourgeoisie was deported to the countryside in appalling conditions (many died). Collectivisation drove tens of thousands of peasants into newly established factories, again in appalling conditions and coercion continued to be the CP’s primary instrument of power. Between 1952 and 1955 (four years), 1.1 million people were interrogated by the forces of coercion, and some 450,000 were interned or imprisoned, i.e. 5 percent of the population.

There is no time to examine how 1956 Revolution came about, but the event was, indeed, revolutionary. Its objectives were the rejection of all previous systems, the creation of new institutions (like the workers’ councils) and mass participation. The revolution was committed to freedom and to democracy through multiparty elections, though without any return to capitalism. It’s another question whether this would have worked. The Red Army returned to suppress the revolution, trials and executions followed (c.500 people), and around 250,000 persons left the country (c.100,000) returned. This was the third communist takeover in Hungary ((1919, 1948, 1956) and the fourth time that a Russian army invaded the country (1849, 1915, 1944, 1956).

But the revolution, though it had failed, left a deep mark on Hungary. It set up limits for both rulers and the ruled. The party was thoroughly traumatised by its evident collapse as an institution and the realisation that the people – workers, peasants, intellectuals – were utterly hostile to communism. Hungarian society, on the other hand, understood that it was powerless against communism as long as the USSR was prepared to use the Red Army (cf. Czechoslovakia 1968). Change came only in the 1980s when Gorbachev signalled that the Red Army would no longer shield the CP against the people.

The communist mindset, however, lives on, it influences the communist successor party (the rebranded socialists) and takes the form of not accepting alternative views of the world, as well as regarding power as something to be monopolised. At the same time, the fact that the Western left has unthinkingly embraced the former communists means that the Western left has uncritically accepted the communist past and mindset.

Sch. Gy.

Multiculturalism

The Minorities Intergroup of the European Parliament recently discussed multiculturalism. This text is an edited version of my contribution; it draws on the chapter on the same topic in my recently published “Politics, Illusions,Fallacies”.

Multiculturalism was regarded as one of the sacred, not to say sacralised elements of Europe’s social-cultural processes and this is still largely the case, although it has been pronounced dead by both David Cameron and Angela Merkel. But this immediately raises a much more difficult question – how do we know that multiculturalism has failed?

First of all, the success/failure criteria of multiculturalism were never properly defined, indeed a great deal about multiculturalism has never been defined and that is where the problems start. So what exactly is it, is multiculturalism a process or a state of being? Does it have an end-goal, a social product that can be identified? Has the identification of multiculturalism changed over time and does it vary from country to country? We can’t tell, for the reason stated above.

What follows is an attempt to make sense of this phenomenon. There are various options, which can overlap or be in contradiction, but that is a part of the story and, it may suggested, is the price to be paid for the initial lack of clarity.

= So, multiculturalism can be said to be a strategy to integrate non-European migrants into the European majority population.

= Then, multiculturalism is a form of cultural sharing, whereby majorities make room for immigrant minorities and “celebrate” diversity together, but then what is to be shared, what is not? What areas and forms of diversity are open to be pursued? Because these were never defined, and probably never could be defined with complete precision, notionally any cultural practice could be freely pursued, sometimes even when these collided with the law and certainly when they might be in conflict with the norms of the majority.

= Generally, multiculturalism is treated as a morally virtuous process, because it makes ethnic identity – the ethnic identity of majorities – impossible or at any rate invisible, as the minority cultures dilute those of majorities. Ethnicity is seen as evil, because it produces nationalism and nationalism causes war (as in the collapse of Jugoslavia). Note: that minority ethnicity is (somehow) virtuous. Who decided this?

= Alternatively, multiculturalism is (maybe) motivated by a dream or project of a single humanity, in which cultural differences are secondary and are bound to disappear; if so, we are looking at a really major social engineering project, and it is not clear whether those promoting it are aware of the implications of what they are doing. There is a strange similarity here to Khrushchev’s project, of the merger of the Soviet population through a threefold or three-stage process, “flourishing, coming together and fusion”, (razvitie, sblizhenie, sliyanie).

= Then, arguably, multiculturalism is actually something rather less virtuous than it appears: it is, in fact, a strategy for ensuring that European majorities do not have to accept immigrants as their cultural equals, and simultaneously denies migrants the possibility of becoming full members of the majority’s community of cultural intimacy, because they have to remain multicultural. In effect, this revives racial – not necessarily racist – differentiation via the backdoor.

However, there is a good deal more.

There is a tacit assumption in multiculturalism that immigrants arrive with only the surface aspects, the folkloric aspects of a different culture, like dress codes and cuisines, but not that every culture is structured around a deep-level code of ethics and ways of life. Furthermore, multiculturalism as practised entirely ignored the class aspects of the migrants, above all their mostly peasant status. The journey from peasant to citizen was largely completed in Europe by the 1960s and the lessons learned were not applied to the immigrants in question – the reality that immigrants brought their rural values with them, that integration was a multi-dimensional process

Nor was there any attempt to understand the role played by the extended family outside Europe. Europe is deviant here. Hence the primacy of family relationships and obligations tends to be dismissed as nepotism, cronyism and corruption.

Religion: in an alien context, this becomes a key resource for sustaining identity. Again, Europe is deviant in being substantially more secular than any other part of the world, the US included. European modernity is defined by its secularism, its anti-religious, a-religious and irreligious attitudes. This is not at all true for other parts of the world.

Equally crucial was that the terms of multiculturalism and integration were invariably defined by the majority. This meant that the majority determined which bits of the minority culture qualified for recognition as a part of multiculturalism and which did not. Transmission and reproduction of the language were definitely not a part of multiculturalism. Attempts by immigrants to transmit the language to the next generation and to sustain it are dismissed as “divisive”.

It is worth noting that the consent of the European majorities was never sought, multiculturalism was and remains an elite project; its democratic legitimacy is doubtful, though majorities mostly accept it.

Besides, immigration was sold to the public as an economic device, as a way of enlarging the labour force especially for jobs that majorities were no longer willing to do, but this not only failed to recognise immigrant cultures, but treated the immigrants as economic units and not much else, as empty vessels. This is deeply dehumanising.

Note, too, that multiculturalism never applied to intra-European migrants. Is there a whiff of racism, about this? Thus intra-European migrants, who are “white” could, should and did assimilate. Think about Italians in the UK or Croats in Germany or Poles in France.

Nor did multiculturalism apply to historic minorities, and again the question arises, why not? Notionally because it was a rather muddled strategy for dealing with non-European immigrants, but then what concept of culture are we dealing with?

Multiculturalism further raises the question of citizenship, and indeed this is a central issue in the area of integration. The normative principle is that citizenship concepts in Europe are and should be alike. Tacitly they should provide the individual with a set of rights, to regulate the relationship between the individual and the state in a more or less identical fashion. This position seriously ignores the diversity of cultures that serve as the underlying basis of citizenship even within Europe, it assumes that the functioning of the state is a culture-free zone and that policies are implemented in much the same way.

A moment’s thought will show how untenable this proposition is. The cultural assumptions of the majority will inform the quality of the state to a very large extent and infuse it with what are, in effect, ethnic norms. Not least, every state machinery has its own past, its own tradition and memory, its own norms, its own attitudes towards society; interaction with society necessarily means the adoption of the history, values, narratives of the latter, otherwise the state will be regarded as an alien power. For what it’s worth, this was, broadly, one of the problems of communism, that it was regarded as alien and operated in many respects as a colonial system.

It is simply untrue, as the assumption has it, that majorities have no ethnicity; they do and to say otherwise is nothing more than denial.  Thus thought-style theory shows that the French state is very French, the British state is English and so on. There is nothing surprising about this - the problem lies in the denial made necessary by the adoption of multiculturalism.

Hence what we have is a kind of pretence, one that also has the consequence that ethno-linguistic minorities, historic minorities, are dangerous, because they show up the ethnic quality of the majority; they make it difficult  to administer the state evenly, as the uniform distribution of authority is constantly challenged; the language issue implies a contest over the primacy of high culture within one state and raises the question of whether there can be two or more? Can there be two public spheres in the same state, cf. Belgium?

So basically there are several flaws in multiculturalism as understood and practised. The majority decides what multiculturalism actually means. At the same time, the collectivity into which immigrants are to be integrated is, to some extent, being denied its own cultural identity, so there is much less into which migrants can be integrated. A civic identity is “cold”, the bonds of cultural intimacy and solidarity do not come into being, resulting in types of exclusion.

Hence the migrants, to make sense of the world in which immigrants now find themselves, they will use whatever raw materials are available to construct and reproduce a collective identity to offer answers, these are:

(a) parallel societies and networks, to provide security;

(b) the extended family, with corresponding codes of obligation, honour, regulation and exclusion, irreconcilable with citizenship;

(c) religion: notably Islam, Hinduism, certain forms of Christianity;

(d) “racism”. Whatever negative experiences immigrants encounter can be explained by the racism of the majority; note too that reverse racism is not a part of how “racism” is defined. This process is encouraged by a section of majority elites, and some have invested heavily in the “racism” concept. Behaviour by the majority can invariably be viewed through the lens of “racism” even when it may have nothing to do with it, but in essence any differentiation by majorities made by the attribution of cultural traits is now classed as racism. Note further that this does not work in reverse, as minorities appear free to discriminate against majorities. This creates a dichotomous concept of majority and minority, and incidentally undermines the idea of sharing and celebrating diversity.

Racism as a concept, process and social construct does have two important though unintended consequences – it provides immigrants with a high level of security by significantly redefining their identity against the majority, reducing it to a single factor and thereby excluding ambiguity and doubt. Racism, in the sense used here, functions as a boundary mechanism and filter. At the same time, it potentially offers an explanation for everything that affects an individual (in contact with the majority world) and creates a simultaneous obstacle to understanding it, by making it possible to define the lifeworld in terms of racism and not much else. Ironically, of course, this means that the social role played by racism ends up severely delimiting the very diversity it is supposed to underpin and protect. Single factor explanations tend to produce outcomes of this kind.

The outcome has been the construction of a European-immigrant identity. This can probably be further broken down on a state-by-state basis, with the result that immigrants remain estranged from their host community and, at the same time, from their countries of origin.

So, what to do? Accept that the multiculturalism concept as evolved has failed. In so far as it had an otherwise undefined “integration” as its success criterion, it has not attained it. Clearly, there is a need to rethink what to do with the second and third generation of immigrants, where the estrangement is more acute than with the first.

In thinking about this, it is best to begin by defining what one wants to attain, the failure/success criteria, in other words. Start from existing sociological realities, not from ideological assumptions (like majorities being “inherently racist”). Make it clear, in the light of the failure, that the rules of the game have changed, that a new design is to be elaborated, above all that integration means just that, acceptance of the majority’s rule-making, obligations and moral codes. In exchange, immigrants must be offered full membership of the community of cultural intimacy and solidarity. Some members of the majority will certainly resist this. So will some (many?) immigrants, who have come to accept their parallel societies. These cannot be dismantled coercively, but they must accept majority regulation where appropriate.

Furthermore, it must be made very clear that certain cultural practices will not be tolerated and, if they persist, they will attract maximum penalties – honour killings, female circumcision, intolerance of gender equality all fall into this category, as repugnant to the moral codes of the majority. Such practices can be stamped out, in the way that sati, widow burning, was largely eliminated under British rule in India. Accept, too, that there will loud cries of “racism” when an immigrant community’s cultural practices are challenged, let alone subject to penalties.

Accept finally that there is no easy road to integration, no short cuts; acculturation is complex and, often enough, painful. Look back to the peasant model; this is a major and undervalued success story in Europe. Make the exit from parallel societies worthwhile through full acceptance of those who make this choice.

Sch. Gy.