Hungary was right on migrant crisis
In 1956 MONICA PORTER’s family fl ed Budapest during the Uprising. Today she refl ects on the country’s latest crisis
that, six decades ago, nearly a quarter- million of us were compelled to fl ee.
It irks me when muddleheaded people compare the present migrant wave with the Hungarian refugees of 1956. Or, for that matter, to Jews who fl ed Nazi persecution in the 1930s or joined the post- war diaspora. Besides contributing richly to the societies they settled in – culturally, intellectually and economically – those immigrants shared the same values and could easily integrate.
Sadly, the same cannot be said for many of the more recent newcomers to Europe, who appear to have little fondness for our enlightened ways and bring with them the sort of intolerance and prejudices we dispensed with several centuries ago.
And as for “integration”, look at the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, where Islamic bullies have been known to harass women for wearing short skirts, couples for holding hands, gay men and beer- drinkers. Consider the rundown banlieues on the outskirts of Paris, ghettos of disaffected Muslim immigrants which are no- go areas for the police. Meanwhile in Sweden anti- Semitic attacks are on the rise but the craven government won’t admit that the perpetrators are recent Muslim immigrants and not far- right skinheads. I could go on but frankly it’s too depressing.
Viktor Orban sees all this and refuses to take his country down the same road. I don’t blame him. Even in the 21st century Hungary remains a Christian nation with a largely homogeneous native population. You can still hear church bells on a Sunday. That’s right, churches have not yet been turned into wine bars or luxury apartments!
Which is not to suggest that it is illiberal or xenophobic. On the contrary. Wandering around Budapest I was astounded at the number of Turkish restaurants because ( historical animosities notwithstanding) the city has an established Turkish community. There are people of many ethnic backgrounds. In a cafe I had lunch beside a table of young Indian men, all tucking into bowls of goulash; perhaps they work for one of the city’s tech companies.
Budapest also has one of the biggest – and safest – Jewish communities in Europe, with 20- plus synagogues and regular cultural events. In the city centre I passed a huge banner proclaiming: “Happy Rosh Hashanah!” When do you suppose we might see such a prominently displayed greeting to the Jewish residents of, say, London? There has been an annual gay pride march in Budapest since 1997. Budapest’s nightlife is as lively ( and racy) as that found in any other Western capital, its artistic life is rich and varied – every thing from Shakespeare to Joe Orton, grand opera to pop. In short, Hungary truly belongs at the heart of liberal, modern Europe. Yes, the bigoted farRight Jobbik Party is fairly well represented in Parliament. Fortunately, Orban’s Fidesz Party has such a thumping majority he doesn’t need their support.
So whatever the bullying bureaucrats in Brussels have to say – even as we witness the predictable backlash to Germany’s open- door policy – I won’t join in the chorus of disapproval at Hungary’s position on the migrant crisis. It has a right to determine its own national destiny after being denied it for so long.
Although I was a child when I left Budapest and have spent most of my life in my adopted home of London, I’ve never stopped loving my birthplace. On every visit I sense again the ingrained melancholy stemming from its sad history: wars, occupations, revolutions, so much spilt blood.
But there is an equally embedded defi ance, too. For me, it’s symbolised by the dilapidated 19thcentury buildings in parts of the old city, still pock- marked with bullet holes, their once ornate facades now crumbling. In any wealthy capital they would have been condemned long ago. But in Budapest there are lights shining in upstairs windows and the ground fl oor hosts a cool pop- up bar.
Now, how can you not love a place like that?