Those of us who studied Hungarian literature in high school or even in college learned plenty about political corruption. Two notable nineteenth-century writers, Mór Jókai (1825-1904) and Kálmán Mikszáth (1847-1910), were astute chroniclers of political corruption. They could document it from the inside because both writers also became politicians. Jókai became involved with politics even before the Compromise of 1867 and ended up as a stalwart supporter of the Liberal (Szabadelvű) Party. Mikszáth became a member of parliament in 1887, representing Illyefalva (Ilieni), Fogaras (Făgăraș), and Máramarossziget (Sighetu Marmație). Both wrote scores of short stories and novels about corrupt politicians. Jókai’s most famous work dealing with corruption is Aranyember (Man with a golden touch), and Mikszáth’s is Különös házasság (A strange marriage).
Of course, one doesn’t have to rely on fiction to get a sense of the extent of political corruption in nineteenth- and early twentieth-century Hungary. A few years ago (2011), András Cieger’s Politikai korrupció a Monarchia Magyarországán (Political corruption in Hungary of the Compromise Era, 1867-1918) explored the topic. The author chose a contemporary caricature of Kálmán Széll, prime minister of Hungary between 1899-1903, for the book’s cover. Széll, by the way, is a great favorite of the Orbán regime. Moszkva tér, which was earlier named after Széll, was reconstructed and once again became Széll tér. In June 2019 a new statue of Széll was erected. In addition, the Orbán government came up with the Széll plan to battle the national debt.
Corruption was pervasive in the years between 1867 and 1918. Tamás Kóbor (1867-1942), who became one of the harshest critics of the Horthy regime, wrote an article in 1901 — that is, during the premiership of Széll — titled “Tisza Kálmán barátja” (The friend of Kálmán Tisza). The friend was Lajos Csernátony, a journalist and former secretary of Lajos Kossuth. He was one of the many writers who got mixed up with politicians and were corrupted along with them. In his short article, Kóbor exposed journalists in the pay of such politicians as Dezső Bánffy, prime minister between 1895 and 1899, “who is no kitten among the corrupt politicians,” and several lesser figures who are described as “friends of Kálmán Tisza, dishonorable hucksters.”
At about the same time, the young Endre Ady began his journalistic career in Nagyvárad (Oradea). He was a relentless critic of local and national politics of the time and was the most famous journalist to expose cases of corruption. Ady’s newspaper articles were collected in eleven volumes.
Political corruption was most prevalent at election time. According to András Cieger, tens of thousands of crowns were necessary to win an election in post-Compromise Hungary. In 1901 Mihály Károlyi spent only the legal limit of 15,000 crowns and lost the election. The voters didn’t think that the food and drink he provided to buy their support was enough. Most likely his opponent offered them more. Vote buying was so widely accepted that in 1902 the Kúria decided that giving two or three cigars to each voter was perhaps even necessary given the widespread habit of smoking. Menyhért Lónyay, Hungary’s second prime minister after the Compromise, expropriated a fairly large sum of money from the budget and used it to buy votes. He was forced to resign, but a few years later he was appointed a member of the upper house. By 1910, the government party, led by István Tisza, Viktor Orbán’s idol, received 4.8 million crowns from a bank in exchange for government orders.
When we come to the twentieth century, the best-known novel, which centers on corruption in a small town, is Zsigmond Móricz’s Rokonok (Relatives), published in 1932. The main character is István Kopjáss, who is unexpectedly named prosecutor and soon enough realizes that there are hundreds of old corruption cases that no one ever touched and by now cannot be solved. At the same time, a lot of people in town discover that they are actually, however distantly, related to him, and all of them ask for favors. Thus, as time goes by, Kopjáss himself becomes part of the local corruption network. One of his relatives asks him to help revive an abandoned pig farm. In the course of assessing the situation, he realizes that he has yet another corruption case on his hands. He thinks he can win this case, but the mayor, who is involved, removes all the documents and laughs in his face when he complains. He explains to Kopjáss that the only reason he hasn’t lost his job yet is because, although the mayor is aware of the “favors” given to his relatives, Kopjáss has never asked for jobs for them at city hall. Kopjáss tries to commit suicide, but his life must be saved because a corrupt prosecutor is an important asset in a corrupt city leadership.
In 2015, György Simkó published a collection of short stories titled Korrupció! Magyar novellák. It includes classic works by such authors as Frigyes Karinthy, Kálmán Mikszáth, Zsigmond Móricz, and István Tömörkény as well as many others from more recent years. Corruption in Hungary is obviously a topic that attracts a broad audience.
The present wholesale corruption, which Tamás Bauer prefers to call the “transfer of public money into private hands,” has inspired interest in past forms of corruption. But, it must be noted, not all corruption is equal. The kinds of corruption that existed in the last 150 years, however heinous, cannot be compared to what is going on today. Earlier, individuals tried to gain advantage, financial or political, in “micro” ways. Corruption today is on a “macro,” systemic scale, where the national wealth is being raided and the proceeds transferred to a few individuals.