Iván Szelényi
Szonja Szelényi
In February 1989 the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party (Magyar Szocialista
Munkáspárt or MSZMP) formally accepted the principles of multi-party
democracy.* Within thirteen months of this decision, free elections were held
and a complex political system emerged in which six parties came to represent
distinct political fields in parliament. This period offers a fascinating study of
political institution-building and sophisticated coalition politics. The aim of
this article is to analyse these emergent political fields: to identify the principal
issues around which they are organized, the political constituencies on which
they draw, the way in which actors competing for these fields emerge, and the
process by which their struggle unfolds. Our empirical observations are
confined mainly to Hungary, but our conclusions might well have wider
application within Central Europe. The main thrust of our argument is that
during the post-Communist transition in Central Europe three different
political fields developed: the liberal, the Christian-nationalist (centre–right),
and the social-democratic. The Hungarian elections in March–April 1990
produced an impressive victory for the Christian-nationalist parties. With the
The Vacuum in Hungarian Politics:
Classes and Parties
121
exception of Czechoslovakia (where the victorious Civil Forum is on
the liberal side of the political spectrum, and opted rather than was
forced into coalition with the Christian Democrats), this seems to be
the dominant trend in the entire non-Balkan region of Central
Europe. The hegemonic forces are of a Christian-nationalist type in
East Germany, Poland, Croatia, and Slovenia.1
In Hungary, the Christian-nationalist field is made up of several political
parties: the nationalist Hungarian Democratic Forum (Magyar
Demokrata Fórum or MDF), the petty-bourgeois Independent Smallholders’
Party (Független Kisgazdapárt or FKgP), and the conservative
Christian Democratic Party (Kereszténydemokrata Néppart or KDNP).
Despite some differences in their political programmes, these parties
have combined to form a coalition government. Together they hold
almost 60 per cent of the seats in parliament. The liberals are represented
by the Alliance of Free Democrats (Szabad Demokraták Szövetsége
or SZDSZ) and the Alliance of Young Democrats (Fiatal Demokraták
Szövetsége or FIDESZ). Between them, these two parties polled one third
of all votes cast and, for this reason alone, constitute the main source
of opposition to the government. Finally, the political Left in Hungary
is represented by the Hungarian Socialist Party (Magyar Szocialista
Párt or MSZP). It is constituted by the reform wing of the old Communist
Party and, because of its relatively poor performance in the
elections, holds less than 10 per cent of all seats in the current parliament.
It is interesting to note that, in spite of such variation in the
political orientation of the different parties, not a single organization
has come forward to represent the social-democratic field in Hungary.
It might be argued that the outcome of the elections was not a surprise
in that it reflected a return to the political traditions of the region.
Such reasoning has, in fact, inspired at least one American commentator
to label the current transformation of Central Europe as a conservative
revolution2
—an argument not without historical support. In Hungary,
for example, democratic elections prior to the establishment of
the socialist regime repeatedly produced centre–right victories: in
* This article will appear in Gary Marks and Christiane Lemke, The Crisis of Socialism
in Europe, to be published by Duke University Press, Durham, North Carolina, in
January 1992. An earlier version was presented at the 85th annual meeting of the
American Sociological Association in Washington D.C., 13–17 August 1990. The
article was completed while the second author was the 1990–91 Annenberg Fellow in
the School of Humanities and Sciences at Stanford University. Support through a postdoctoral
research grant from the Hoover Institution is also acknowledged. We are
grateful to Éva Fodor, David B. Grusky, Tamás Kolosi, György Lengyel, John W.
Meyer, Marc Ventresca and Bruce Western for their helpful comments. The opinions
expressed are those of the authors.
1 It is noteworthy that the ‘eastern region’ of Central Europe (represented by Romania,
Bulgaria and Serbia) followed a different road to post-Communism. As late as October
1990, countries in this region were still governed either by Communists or successors
of the old Communist elite. Such differences in the developmental trajectories of the
two regions may be coincidental. At the same time, we cannot help but be impressed
by the uncanny contiguity of these patterns of development with the long-standing
division in this region along the lines of Western and Eastern Christianity.
2
This statement was made by the President of the American Council of Learned
Societies at a conference in Budapest in the summer of 1990.
122
1945 the Smallholders’ Party (Kisgazdapárt) won 57 per cent of the vote;
in 1938 the Party of Hungarian Life (Magyar Élet Pártja) won 70 per cent
of the vote; and in 1906 the Independence Party (Függetlenségi Párt)
gained 62 per cent of all seats in parliament.3
A glance at election
results from the past might suggest that embedded in Hungarian political
culture is a strong taste for Christian-nationalist political rule.
In the course of the past few months, political commentators attempting
to predict the outcome of events were in the position of an
audience seated in a theatre with the curtain still down. What, they
wondered, was in preparation after forty years of Communist rule?
Astonishingly, as the curtain was raised, the audience was confronted
with a still life: the ‘act’ that was interrupted forty years ago with the
transition to socialism seemed to have resumed, as if nothing had
happened in between.
Given the success of the centre–right in pre-socialist elections, one
might have anticipated the historical pendulum moving rightward
after decades of left-wing deviations. Such expectations notwithstanding,
we believe that the restoration of prewar politics in Hungary
requires an explanation. During the past forty years, after all,
Hungarian society has undergone fundamental changes. For example,
the peasantry and the genteel middle class, which have formed the
usual social base for centre–right political forces in the past, were
virtually eliminated under the socialist regime.4 At the same time, the
postwar industrialization of the Hungarian economy created a large
industrial proletariat and, along with this, the emergence of a socialdemocratic
field. In the light of such changes, one would have
expected to see a general weakening of the traditional centre–right
and a strengthening of social-democratic sentiment in this period.
Surprisingly, however, the outcome of the March–April elections produced
the opposite result. How are we to account for the exceptionally
poor predictive power of structural factors and the apparent
continuity of political culture? It is intended to shed some light on this
apparent paradox in the following discussion.
Post-Communist Hungary: Class Structure and Political Fields
The class structure of post-Communist Hungary assumes a tri-polar
form. As indicated in Figure i, the main distinctions are between
professionals, proprietors and workers. This mapping of the class
structure has its origins in the old socialist regime. In the established
model of socialism the state had a monopoly over the organization of
economic life. Class differences were characterized by a single hierarchy
of positions in which the old Communist (cadre) elite was at the
top and the working class at the bottom.5 With the gradual erosion of
3 Gyula Benda, Magyarország Történeti Kronológiája (The Chronological History of Hungary),
Budapest 1983, pp. 810, 954, 1023.
4
Róbert Manchin and Iván Szelényi, ‘Theories of Family Agricultural Production in
Collectivized Economies’, Sociologia Ruralis, vol. xxv, no. 3/4, 1985, p. 260.
5
See Zygmunt Bauman, ‘Officialdom and Class: Basis of Inequality in Socialist
Society’, in Frank Parkin, ed., The Social Analysis of Class Structure, London 1974;
George Konrád and Iván Szelényi, The Intellectuals on the Road to Class Power, New York
1979; Iván Szelényi, ‘Prospects and Limits of the New Class Project in Eastern Europe’,
123
central management, this pyramidal organization was complemented
by a second hierarchy of occupations, based on market integration.6
In this second order, vertical mobility was determined by ownership
of wealth and entrepreneurial skills. Not surprisingly, therefore,
owners and entrepreneurs were located at the apex of the hierarchy
and waged workers at the bottom.
5
(cont.)
Politics & Society, vol. 15, no. 2, 1986–87; Iván Szelényi, Socialist Entrepreneurs: Embourgeoisement
in Rural Hungary, Madison 1988; Szonja Szelényi, ‘Social Inequality and Party
Membership’, American Sociological Review 52, October 1987.
6
See Tamás Kolosi, ‘Stratification and Social Structure in Hungary’, Annual Review of
Sociology 14, 1988; Tamás Kolosi, Tagolt Társadalom (Stratified Society), Budapest 1989;
Szelényi, ‘Prospects and Limits’.
124
Figure I.
The Class Structure and Political Fields in Post-Communist Hungary, 1990
Following the events of 1989, Central European societies began a swift
but arduous journey towards the market economy. At the current
stage in their development it would be premature to designate them as
fully fledged capitalist societies. They are best characterized as socialist
mixed economies in which the state continues to dominate economic
life but wherein the private sector plays a stronger and more
complementary role. In spite of the continued hegemonic role of the
state sector in these economies, the power relationships within the
dominant elite have already begun to change. Fragments of the old
elite are increasingly isolated from the new centres of power, while
others are being forced out of their positions altogether. Only those
members of the old guard have managed to survive who were able to
convert their political privileges into cultural assets or economic
capital. In the post-Communist regime in Hungary, professionals in
high-ranking positions (especially those without prior attachment to
the MSZMP) are acquiring new powers of influence. It follows that, in
the transition to post-Communism, the ruling elite is highly fragmented.
The old-line bureaucracy, in the Gouldnerian sense of the
term, is shrinking in size, while a new class of intellectuals is becoming
hegemonic.7
Together they constitute 5 to 10 per cent of the working
population.
It is not only professionals but also the emergent entrepreneurial class
that is fragmented. This latter is composed of at least three fractions.
Following Poulantzas, its first and largest section can be characterized
as the new petty bourgeoisie.8
This class fragment grew out of what used
to be the second economy: its members are small proprietors in agriculture,
service industries and (increasingly) manufacturing. This is
potentially a large sector. According to a recent opinion poll, 25 to 30
per cent of all Hungarians expressed a wish to start up a business; this
may be regarded as the percentage of aspiring, or potential, members
of the new petty bourgeoisie. Realistically, however, as of Autumn
1990, only about 10 per cent of the working population could be
regarded as belonging to this class category.
The second fragment of the entrepreneurial class comprises those
members of the old Communist elite who, through management buyouts
or joint ventures with Western firms, have successfully converted
their political assets into economic capital.9
They are what might be
called a ‘political bourgeoisie’ in Central Europe. Although this class
fragment is much smaller in size than the new petty bourgeoisie, it has
attracted a great deal of political interest and, for this reason alone,
may end up playing a significant role in the shaping of Hungarian
political culture.
Finally, the third segment of the entrepreneurial class grew directly
out of foreign investments in the Hungarian economy. By the autumn
of 1990 foreign capital had begun to play a significant role in the
economic life of Central European societies. Through joint ventures
and by direct investments, foreign owners and their comprador intelligentsia
(that is, professionals hired by foreign capitalists to run their
local affairs) have started to have a significant impact on social and
political life. The number of ‘players’ in this group is still rather
small, but their influence is considerable because they control many
outlets in the mass media.10
Last but not least, the third class position, that of the working class, is
also fragmented today. In addition to the well-known cleavages in this
7 See Alwin Gouldner, The Future of Intellectuals and the Rise of the New Class, Oxford 1979.
8 Nicos Poulantzas, Classes in Contemporary Capitalism, London 1978, pp. 209–23.
9 For examples of such conversions, see Elemér Hankiss, Kelet-Európai Alternatívák
(East European Alternatives), Budapest 1989; Jadwiga Staniszkis, The Dynamics of the
Breakthrough in Eastern Europe, Berkeley forthcoming; Erzsébet Szalai, ‘Az Új Elít’ (The
New Elite), Beszélö 27, 1989; Erzsébet Szalai, ‘Ismét az Új Elítröl’ (The New Elite
Revisited), Élet és Irodalom, 8 December 1989.
10 The extent of sale of public property to domestic and foreign owners is unknown,
but is almost certainly under 10 per cent of all formerly state-controlled assets.
125
class (namely, the distinctions between blue- and white-collar workers,
skilled and unskilled manual jobs, supervisors and supervisees, and
so forth), the presence of the ‘second economy’ has produced another
division among workers; this distinguishes between those who are
involved in the second economy and those who are left out. Already
by the mid 1980s two-thirds of all Hungarian households made some
of their living from the second economy. Of course, most households
depend mainly on their wages from the state, but a growing proportion
have begun to live a genuinely dual existence between the private
and state sectors.11
Having completed our mapping of the post-Communist class structure,
it remains to locate the three ‘political fields’ among the class
cleavages identified. These are illustrated in Figure 1. The liberal field
opens between the intellectual elite (especially its professional or ‘technocratic’
fraction) and the entrepreneurial class. SZDSZ and FIDESZ are
the two parties that have competed, so far, for this constituency. In an
interview with one of the daily newspapers,12
Bálint Magyar, one of
the most articulate theorists of SZDSZ, described the class character of his
party thus: ‘our social base is composed of three groups: the radical
salaried workers, the small entrepreneurs, and a significant proportion
of the intelligentsia.’ The Christian-nationalist field is located
between the entrepreneurial class and the working class. It is especially
popular among those members of the working class who participate
in the second economy. This constituency is contested by three parties:
MDF, fkgp, and KDNP. Finally, the social-democratic field opens
up between the working class and the intellectual elite. With the
transition to a market economy, a large proportion of the working
class is expected to suffer a great deal: many will be thrown out of
their jobs and, without exception, all will experience a decline in their
standard of living. In pushing for some protection from the state, this
fraction of the working class may find allies not just in the old-line
Stalinist bureaucracy but also among those professionals who either
have ideological reservations about full-scale privatization or who are
themselves existentially threatened by the current transformation.
Predictions and Results
The March–April elections produced the following distribution of
parliamentary seats across the three political fields in Hungary: (1)
The governing Christian-nationalist (centre–right) coalition polled
59.5 per cent of all votes: 42.7 per cent of these went to MDF, 11.4 per
cent to FKgP, and 5.4 per cent to KDNP. (2) The two liberal parties
received 29 per cent of the vote: 23.6 per cent went to SZDSZ and 5.4
per cent to FIDESZ. (3) mszp was supported by 8.5 per cent of all
voters. (4) The remaining 3 per cent of seats (out of a total of 386)
were won by members of other (mostly smaller) parties and by independent
candidates.
From the perspective of our class-analytic approach, the most surprising
11
Szelényi, ‘Prospects and Limits’, pp. 124–9; István Gábor, ‘The Major Domains of
the Second Economy’, in Péter Galasi and György Sziráczki, eds., Market and Second
Economy in Hungary, Frankfurt 1985, pp. 133–79.
12
See Magyar Nemzet, 1 August 1990, p. 5.
126
result of these elections was the poor showing of those parties that were
nominally competing for the social-democratic field. MSZP won only 8.5
per cent of the seats in parliament, while the other two parties, MSZMP
(the orthodox wing of the former Communist Party) and MSZDP (the
Hungarian Social-Democratic Party, or Magyar Szociáldemokrata Párt)
just missed out on the 4 per cent vote necessary to obtain a seat in
parliament. Overall, therefore, the political forces that were ready to
use the ‘socialist’ or the ‘social-democratic’ label in the elections received
less than 16 per cent of the popular vote, even though our analysis
suggested that some 20 to 30 per cent of the working population (that
is, most of the working class and some segments of the professional
class) could have voted for them. The discrepancy between the
observed outcome of the elections and expectations generated from
our analysis of the Hungarian class structure requires an explanation.
Similarly, it is important to account for the relatively unsuccessful
performance of the liberal parties in the elections. To be sure, SZDSZ
and FIDESZ both fared reasonably well, given the extent of their potential
social base. Nevertheless, when considering how popular they
were in the early stages of the election campaign, it is clear that they
performed less well than expected. At the start of the election campaign,
during the summer of 1989, SZDSZ was trailing way behind
MDF in the public-opinion polls. By December, however, they were
level, leading many observers to conclude that the March–April
elections could produce a liberal victory. It is important to explain
why SZDSZ could appear so close to victory and yet, in the end, still
lose the elections.
The poor performance of political parties on the left and the weakening
of SZDSZ during the last few weeks of the electoral campaigns are
both linked to the fact that the social-democratic field remained
unrepresented in the contest for political power. Neither the old Communist
Party (MSZMP), nor its reformed wing (MSZP), were able to
transform themselves into organizations genuinely representative of
the working class. As a consequence, the social-democratic field was
—at least in principle—wide open for SZDSZ. However, as it turned
out, the liberals did not dare to occupy the left ground, and for this
reason alone lost the elections. In illustrating this point, we will show,
first of all, that the social characteristics of voters are accurately predicted
by our class theory. At the same time, we will demonstrate that
those who did not vote in the elections constituted a reservoir of
social-democratic sentiment that SZDSZ could have tapped. It is our
contention, in fact, that non-voters in Hungary decided against participation
in the elections because none of the parties running articulated
their interests.
The elections were conducted in two rounds; those candidates who
did not win an absolute majority in the first series of votes were
required to run again. In the first round, 35 per cent of those eligible
did not cast their vote; this rose to 55 per cent in the second round.
Which way this ‘silent majority’ would have voted, who could have
inspired them to participate in the elections, and with what kind of
political programme they could have been mobilized, are decisive
questions for the political future of Central Europe.
127
In May 1990, the Social Research Information Society (Társadalomkutatási
Informatikai Társulás or TÁRKI) conducted a nationwide survey
of public opinion in Hungary. Following the well-established format
of Hungarian social-stratification surveys, a sample of 981 individuals
were questioned about their education, income and occupation. In
addition, they were asked if they participated in the March–April
elections, which party they supported with their vote, and what their
attitudes were on a range of social, economic and political issues.13
Results from this survey indicate that our class-analytic approach predicted
fairly accurately the outcome of the elections. As anticipated,
the two liberal parties, SZDSZ and FIDESZ, appealed mostly to professionals,
while MDF enjoyed a more diverse class base. At the same
time, the results show that class and class-based economic attitudes do
not fully explain respondents’ choice of party. Social-structural
variables account for a much larger percentage of the total variation
in voter turnout than they do in party choice.
Class, Apathy and the Non-Vote
In examining class patterns in party preference, we have found that
MDF was the least class- or status-based of all the political parties in
Hungary. In the March–April elections its electoral base cut across
class lines, and support for its policies came evenly from subpopulations
with different age and educational profiles. By comparison,
SZDSZ was favoured mainly by white-collar workers (particularly
by general non-manual workers and professionals), while FKgP and
KDNP were popular mostly among peasants and blue-collar workers.
As noted earlier, there is no simple and direct relation between class
background and party preference.
The electoral performance of FIDESZ, FKgP and KDNP lends further
evidence to our claims. As expected, FKgP was the most ‘populist’ of
all the parties: 73 per cent of those who claimed to have voted for this
party were agricultural and blue-collar workers. KDNP followed
closely with 70.2 per cent of the ‘populist’ vote, while only 44.1 per
cent of FIDESZ voters belonged to this sector. MSZP was the least popular
among agricultural and blue-collar workers, which represented
only 39.2 per cent of its vote. It also received a lower level of support
—32.7 per cent—from those less-educated.
Our most significant finding is that class is a more reliable predictor
of voter turnout than it is of party choice. Specifically, we found that
both blue-collar workers and less-educated people represented a significant
proportion of those who stayed away from the polling booths.
In May 1990, for instance, blue-collar workers constituted 52 per cent
of the Hungarian labour force, yet 63 per cent of all ‘no-shows’ came
from this class category. Likewise, 38 per cent of those voting in May
1990 had completed eight years of schooling or less, yet as many as 50
per cent of those who did not vote in the elections came from this lesseducated
sector.
13
The collection of data was supervised by Tamás Kolosi, director of TÁRKI. The questionnaire
was administered as part of a larger survey sponsored by the International Social
Survey Program. For greater detail, see Tamás Kolosi, International Social Survey Program:
Hungary 1990, Budapest 1990.
128
The effects of class and education on voter turnout, can be explained
in two ways. On the one hand, it might be argued that the mass
abstention of blue-collar workers and less-educated individuals indicates
their lack of interest in politics. This is by no means a new line
of argument, but one frequently employed in explanations of the same
general trend in Western democratic regimes.14
In the case of Central
European societies, however, a second argument could be made that
the strength of the class effect on voter turnout is an indication that
none of the parties offered a political Package that was attractive to
blue-collar workers. Accordingly, two alternative explanations of the
non-vote in Hungary present themselves: one would tell a story about
working-class ‘apathy’, while the other would pay attention to characteristics
of the ‘social-democratic constituency’ and, on the basis of
this, consider the non-vote as a ‘protest vote’—that is, a vote against
the absence of a viable social-democratic alternative.
Not surprisingly, perhaps, both factors—apathy as well as protest—
influenced non-voter behaviour in the March–April elections. As it
turns out, however, lack of interest in political life seems to have
played a surprisingly minor role. The question of apathy was present
in a single item on the May 1990 survey: this asked respondents how
interested they were in political issues.15
Contrary to what one might
have expected, the overwhelming majority of non-voters were either
‘considerably’ or ‘very interested’ in politics. What is more, we
observed the same pattern of responses among voters. From this it
follows that apathy provides, at best, a partial explanation for why
people did not vote in the elections.
In line with our second theory of voter turnout, data from the May
1990 survey indicates a strong correlation between political attitudes
and electoral participation. Specifically, we found that people with
strong social-democratic values were significantly overrepresented
among non-voters.
An Untapped Constituency
It is not surprising that social, political and economic values played
an important role in the Hungarian elections, given the enormity of
the social change that the electorate was being asked to effect. In the
course of their election campaigns, the two major opposition parties
(MDF and SZDSZ) focused heavily on social and ethical issues. Candidates
for SZDSZ were particularly outspoken on questions relating to
civil liberties, and were also quite critical of MDF for not being sufficiently
committed to these issues. In its political programme, MDF
was indistinguishable from SZDSZ on human-rights issues. However,
its position on social questions—particularly with respect to abortion
—was considerably more conservative than that of SZDSZ.
The scale of the difference between the two parties became especially
14
See, for example, Roberto Michels, Political Parties, New York 1966.
15
The precise wording of this question was as follows: ‘Mennyire érdeklödik ön a
politika iránt?’ (How interested are you in politics?). The full set of possible responses
included: ‘nagyon’ (very much), ‘melehetösen’ (considerably), ‘nem nagyon’ (not very
much), ‘egy kicsit’ (a little), and ‘egyáltalán nem’ (not at all).
129
apparent in the closing speeches made by their leaders on the night
before the vital second round of the elections. In his final words to the
television audience, the leader of MDF, Jószef Antall, pledged that
those who supported his party would vote for a ‘quiet force’; while the
leader of SZDSZ, János Kis, promised the electorate a ‘radical change’,
and a ‘smashing of the party state’.
While MDF and SZDSZ differed considerably on social issues, their,
stances on economic matters were similar: both advocated the privatization
of production units and the expansion of free markets, and
neither paid much attention to questions of unemployment and growing
inequalities. In other words, both parties offered the electorate a
clear choice between conservative and liberal values on social issues,
but neither appealed to those voters who wanted to cast their ballot in
favour of a welfare state, security of employment, and protected social
benefits.
Results from the May 1990 survey indicate the main difference between
voters and non-voters to be much smaller on social issues and significantly
more pronounced on attitudes towards economic reorganization.
Thus, while we found that non-voters were, on average, more
conservative on social issues than voters, it is also true that they held
stronger social-democratic opinions on economic matters. This suggests
a curious discrepancy between popularly held attitudes and
party platforms in the elections: the major opposition parties all positioned
themselves on the political right (in the Western sense of the
term), but public opinion was overwhelmingly in favour of socialdemocratic
measures. Thus, for instance, when respondents in the
May 1990 survey were asked whether it was the responsibility of the
state to assure full employment, control prices, promote social justice,
or monitor spending on health care, welfare, and education, 80 to 90
per cent gave answers that favoured a Scandinavian—that is, a socialdemocratic—type
of government.
Differences between voters and non-voters were not restricted to
issues relating to economic reform. Our analyses indicate that at the
time of the elections non-voters were particularly concerned with
issues relating to jobs (unemployment, pensions, benefits), while voters
were more interested in abstract social-policy matters (government
spending on culture, the environment, education). In many ways,
therefore, the main difference between these two groups might be seen
as that between left-Labourites and middle-of-the-road (or even rightwing)
social democrats.
At any rate, it is clear from these results that there existed a large
social-democratic constituency (both in terms of class position and
political attitudes) in Hungary, and, moreover, that the interests of
this constituency were unrepresented during the last elections. For
this reason, then, we believe that Hungarian political parties are
unduly complacent. What is emerging in political life may well be
only the tip of an iceberg; dramatic changes could take place any day.
The strong correlation between welfare-statist attitudes (on economic
matters) and conservative values (on social issues) makes the situation
particularly explosive. It suggests, above all else, that the ‘silent majority’
in the last elections could be mobilized in the future either around
130
welfare issues (that is, around its strong social-democratic values), or
around issues of law and order (appealing to its conservative social
values). What this suggests, of course, is that the potential for Peronism
is as real in the political future of Central Europe as is a Scandinavian-style
welfare-state government.16
Consequently, as we argue
below, the direction the political organization of these countries will
take has less to do with the nature of their class structure, or the
character of their political culture, than with the dynamics of
institution-building and the role of political leadership in the transition
to post-Communism.
Our main argument, then, is that the social-democratic constituency
in Hungary is considerable, but that it has remained unmobilized in
recent elections. By implication, therefore, the political culture of
post-Communist societies is potentially less right-wing than has
hitherto been demonstrated. The obvious question, of course, is why
none of the political parties in Hungary have tried to mobilize this
social-democratic constituency. In answering this question we hope to
demonstrate that the unique dynamics of political institution-building
and the question of political leadership are factors as important as the
social composition of constituencies in the making of political fields.
Strategy and Image
During the summer of 1989, SZDSZ perceived MDF as a centre–left
party with close links to the Communists (especially its populist wing
represented by Imre Pozsgay). SZDSZ therefore focused its line of
attack on the left of MDF. In an interview given at this time Bálint
Magyar called MDF a ‘crypto-communist party’—a vehicle that would
enable Pozsgay to prepare himself for the collapse of Communism
while at once preserving his existing power-base. Magyar argued that
MDF was the post-Communist analogue of the Peasant Party, which,
after 1945, was the umbrella organization of a number of left-wing
populist writers (that is, the party of the ‘Third Way’) who proved to
be little more than Communist fellow travellers. During the autumn
of 1989, SZDSZ continued its line of attack on MDF by criticizing its pact
with the MSZP on the issue of the presidential elections. According to
this deal, MDF was to have given the relatively strong presidency to
MSZP (and, specifically, to Pozsgay) in return for majority rule in parliament.
Suggestions were also made by SZDSZ officials that MDF may
even have granted MSZP a ‘junior partner’ role in government. Following
the Polish pattern, the MDF–MSZP alliance had hoped to
accomplish this by holding early presidential elections—an ingenious
solution. If elections could have been held by the end of 1989 (or at the
beginning of 1990), Pozsgay would have been guaranteed the presidency.
After all, he was far ahead in the public-opinion polls. (At this
16
Juan Peron was elected as president of Argentina in 1946 largely by working-class support.
In its centrist-authoritarian politics, Peronism brought together a unique
combination of nationalist sentiments with right-wing social attitudes, as well as a
strong sense of law and order and a positive orientation towards trade unions. For
more details on Peronism, see Seymour Martin Lipset, Political Man, New York 1960,
pp. 173–5; Guillermo A. O’Donnell, Modernization and Bureaucratic-Authoritarianism,
Berkeley 1979, pp. 56–77.
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early stage opposition candidates had not yet had a chance to make a
name for themselves.)
With acute political insight, SZDSZ did not sign the agreement
between MDF and MSZP, but instead called for a referendum to determine
the timing of the presidential elections. According to Hungarian
law, parliament is compelled to call a referendum on an issue if more
than 100,000 signatures demand it. SZDSZ had easily collected some
200,000 signatures to this end and, in November 1989, the referendum
was held. MDF was in disarray and unable to respond to the challenge
posed by SZDSZ. Members of the party, however, began to sense
that their ties to Pozsgay were becoming a handicap and that, in
future, they would have to demonstrate greater distance from MSZP to
succeed in political life. During the referendum, MSZP advised its supporters
to vote ‘no’ on the question of whether presidential elections
should be delayed. MDF, rather than follow the MSZP suggestion, called
instead for a boycott. On the surface, this was not an unreasonable
political strategy. According to Hungarian law, after all, 50 per cent of
the electorate has to vote in order for the referendum to be valid. Had
the MDF plan worked, SZDSZ could have lost the referendum. Unfortunately
for MDF, however, the referendum produced a good turnout
(about 60 per cent of those eligible voted) and, by a small margin, the
‘yes’ vote was ratified. Against the wishes of MDF, therefore, the presidential
elections were delayed.
The call for a referendum was a shrewd political move on the part of
SZDSZ because it resulted in the breakup of the alliance between MSZP
and MDF. In the process it also succeeded in humiliating MDF, which,
following the referendum, began to perform poorly in public-opinion
polls. As a consequence, SZDSZ gained considerable popularity among
Hungarian voters, although it did so by locating itself on the right of
MDF. This initial success was, however, short-lived and the dynamics
of political institution-building took a new turn.
Soon after the referendum, József Antall took over the leadership of
MDF. A historian, whose father was a leading government official
under Admiral Horthy, he had little to do with left-wing populist
writers of MDF that SZDSZ linked to the Communist Party. Antall and
his circle had aristocratic connections; they were more centre–right
Christian-democrats than left-wing populists—in contrast to those
who controlled MDF prior to Antall’s leadership. In an effort to distance
himself from MSZP, Antall gradually cut loose the left-populist
wing of MDF and moved his party without difficulty to the right. He
was quick to realize that, if the name of the Hungarian political game
was anti-Communism, he could play this better than SZDSZ. After all,
the latter’s leadership included many with relatively strong left-wing
pasts: János Kis, for instance, was a Lukács disciple and a prominent
young Marxist during the early 1970s; Miklós Haraszti was a Maoist
and a vocal opponent of the Kadárist re-privatization programme
during the late 1960s; even Gáspár Tamás (the most articulate supporter
of nineteenth-century liberalism currently in SZDSZ) began his
political career with anarcho-syndicalist aspirations. A large number
of SZDSZ leaders also came from old (Communist) cadre families.
Beginning in January 1990, then, MDF politicians began to criticize
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the social and political origins of the SZDSZ leadership and, in so
doing, succeeded in beating the party at its own game. Antall and his
circle emerged from this battle more authentically right-wing than
members of SZDSZ.
Following this new line of attack from MDF, SZDSZ hesitated briefly
over the nature of its political field. The leader of the party, János Kis,
has consistent left-wing values and would have been quite comfortable
with a social-democratic party platform. In an interview given during
one of his official visits to Paris, in fact, he characterized SZDSZ as a
‘centre–left’ party.17
As it turns out, this statement was mere wishful
thinking. Given the nature of the attack from MDF, the leadership of
SZDSZ considered it too risky to assume a left-wing stand and consequently
the Paris statement made by Kis was swiftly shelved. Leadership
of the party was assumed by a group of free-marketeers who
continued the party’s earlier policy of trying to position itself on the
political right of MDF. In the light of the March–April election results,
it is now clear that this was a strategic error: by confirming their
initial winning tactic as a long-term strategy, SZDSZ lost the elections.
Given the strength of the social-democratic field in Hungary, SZDSZ
could have performed much better if, following the MDF–MSZP split, it
had occupied the political field now wide open on the centre-left.
After the elections, SZDSZ found itself in a difficult situation. Its
representatives sat in a parliament dominated by centre–right political
forces. Antall’s confessed political model is Adenauer; however
one looks at the matter, there is little room to the right of this position.
To demonstrate its difference from the ruling party, SZDSZ has
continued to display its liberalism on social issues. Thus, for instance,
it fought bitterly against the reintroduction of religious instruction in
schools. Though this is undoubtedly a worthwhile cause, it is one
unlikely to produce additional votes. According to a recent survey
conducted by the Public Opinion Research Institute in Budapest, by
the end of May 1990 MDF and SZDSZ had both begun to lose public
support, with the latter being the bigger loser of the two parties.
Given its current appeal across the three political fields, SZDSZ is
probably destined to become a party as ineffectual as the Free Democrats
in Germany, or the Liberal-Democratic Party in Britain. From
its current position it will never take power away from MDF. Its
success is therefore contingent on its ability to transform itself: it
needs to move into the centre–left position and construct a programme
that emphasizes welfare-state policies and issues of social
justice. Despite its numerous strategic errors, SZDSZ continues to be
the party best positioned to fill the social-democratic field in Hungarian
political culture. Other contenders’ claims for this constituency
are less convincing. For their part, the successor parties of the old
Communist elite, MSZMP and MSZP, simply have no appeal. As we
have already demonstrated, MSZP is the party that relies more heavily
on the upper-middle class than any other party; its support among the
working class is the weakest. This is not surprising of course: the
Communist Party is seen as having betrayed the fundamental interests
17
This interview with Kis took place in December 1989.
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of the working class for forty years; it is unclear why workers should
begin to trust it now.
The poor performance of MSZDP, the only party with an expressly
social-democratic platform, was more of a surprise. Early commentators
expected a good performance in the elections. It received a great
deal of support from Western social-democratic parties and, given the
strength of such sentiments in Hungary, was favoured on the eve of
the elections to be the winning party. These expectations notwithstanding,
MSZDP failed to obtain even 4 per cent of the votes and,
consequently, was unable to place any representatives in parliament.
The reasons for this failure are complex, but worthy of attention.
Most important is the fact that, unlike the winning parties, MSZDP
had considerable difficulty with institution-building. In the initial
stages of the election campaign, an ‘old guard’ of Communists tried to
rebuild the party from the inside. There were two problems with this
strategy. First, the members of this group were all men in their
seventies and eighties with little political future. Secondly, they were
unable to get along with one another. Their efforts to rebuild the party
were delayed by constant disagreement, until eventually they gave up
and broke away. At this point, a group of younger members tried to
institute reforms, but their strategy also failed. In fact, young members
of the party were in constant conflict with the ‘old guard’; but,
due to their political inexperience and vulnerability, they were ultimately
outmanoeuvred.
Following these internal fights, the party tried once more to restructure
itself by rebuilding its public profile. But in so doing, it made further
mistakes. For example, in selecting an image, it chose to return to the
tradition ofthe 1920s and appeal to the worker with a hammer in his hand.
Predictably, this came across as an entirely inauthentic appeal and
cost the party many votes. As a final strategy, MSZDP elected a woman
to chair the party. Although she possessed considerable charm as well
as ability, it became clear in the course of the election campaign that
she lacked charisma and was unable to garner votes. Internal conflicts,
lack of leadership, wrong policies, and a dated image thus
worked together to undermine the party’s relaunch.
Problems of Legitimation
Events during the second half of 1990 gave further support to our
argument that political institutions in post-Communist Central
Europe fail to represent the strength of social-democratic sentiment in
civil society. The municipal elections, held on 14 October, are a good
case in point. Once again the turnout was abysmally low: fewer than
one third of those eligible to vote turned up at the polls. This degree of
participation would normally be regarded as serious cause for concern.
The October results, however, were particularly disturbing as
political parties campaigned explicitly on the slogan that municipal
elections, more than any other attempt at economic restructuring,
represented a real change in regime. It is apparent from the results
that voters disagreed with this assessment; and, to make matters
worse, they actually re-elected a significant number of mayors from
the old government.
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The municipal elections produced a humiliating defeat for MDF and
its allies. Unlike in the March–April elections, SZDSZ and FIDESZ
obtained an almost equal proportion of the votes and, in so doing,
gained an absolute majority in most municipal governments. In particular,
these results represented a major victory for FIDESZ, which
increased its popular vote significantly. Interestingly, although SZDSZ
received only the same level of support from eligible voters as in the
March–April elections, it now had a larger share of the total number
of votes cast. This was because a significant proportion of those who
voted MDF earlier in the year either did not turn up at the polls or had
cast their vote in favour of FIDESZ.
The municipal elections also showed the newly elected government to
be suffering from a growing problem of legitimation. During the early
stages of the transition to post-Communism, opposition forces
(among them, of course, MDF and its allies) argued that the power of
the Communists lacked legitimacy because it was not sanctioned by
popular support. Ironically, the first freely elected government in
Hungary also lacked popular support: it was chosen by a majority of
that minority of voters who cast their ballot in the March–April elections.
By October 1990, the democratic process had deteriorated to
such an extent that mayors were elected to office with as little as 15 per
cent of eligible voters supporting them.
Those who attributed low voter turnout to ‘apathy’ were taught an
important lesson during the last week of October, when taxi drivers
staged a blockade and brought the entire city of Budapest to a halt.
The issue behind this strike was straightforward. The Hungarian
government—without consultation with the Chamber of Commerce,
trade unions or members of parliament—announced its intention to
double petrol prices overnight. An increase of this magnitude, if
enacted, would have threatened the economic well-being of many taxi
drivers. In an effort to prevent this, they decided to engage in collective
action: within two or three hours of the government announcement,
they blocked all intersections in the country and paralysed
transportation for two full days.
This event was of considerable sociological interest. It indicated, for
example, that what we have identified as the legitimation crisis of the
Hungarian government is not restricted to the ruling coalition, but
encompasses, in fact, the entire political system. The taxi drivers
chose to express their dissatisfaction with the government in an act of
civil disobedience because they had lost confidence in their parliamentary
representatives, who had failed to support their interest.
Although members of parliament were reluctant to show solidarity
with the taxi drivers’ cause, the general population was not. According
to a small telephone survey conducted by the Hungarian Public
Opinion Research Institute a day after the strike, 60 per cent of the
population gave unconditional support to the taxi drivers and
another 25 per cent expressed sympathy with their cause. This is not
entirely surprising given that spokespersons for the taxi drivers had
successfully reframed the particular interests of the drivers as a much
broader national cause. Specifically, they argued that the government
was using the Gulf crisis, as well as the resulting increase in prices, to
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boost tax revenues from the sale of petrol. They were also quite successful
at convincing people that this strategy was unwise economically,
because its inflationary results might have disastrous effects in an
economy already bordering on hyper-inflation. With the doubling of
petrol prices, they argued, about half of all taxi drivers would go out
of business; there would be an expansion in the relative size of the
proletariat; competition for work would increase; and all would suffer
from the inflationary effects of fuel price increases.
The dispute ended in a negotiated settlement. In an uncommon
alliance, the trade unions and representatives of the Chamber of
Commerce joined forces against the government (or, to put it more
generally, against the new political class) and forced it to accept
a compromise. The price of petrol was reduced, the amount of
tax on each gallon was set at a fixed amount (rather than as a
percentage); thus, within the range of world market prices, government
and its negotiating partners finally agreed on a modest price
increase.
One of the more positive results of the taxi drivers’ blockade was a
major restructuring of the political parties. SZDSZ, under the leadership
of Kis, once again made a cautious opening toward the centre–
left. Restructuring also took place on the political Left: Pozsgay
departed from MSZP and announced his intention to form a ‘national
centre’ political party.18
Upon being freed from Pozsgay, MSZP held
a national congress and formulated an unambiguously socialdemocratic
programme. MDF also responded to the crisis with a
major reorganization: populists within the party expressed dissatisfaction
with Jószef Antall for pushing the party too far to the right and
argued for a political programme that would recapture the leftpopulist
vote. It is clear from these efforts at reorganization that the
political class in Hungary is beginning to learn the rules of electoral
politics: politicians are starting to think in terms of constituencies and
not in terms of ideologically inspired political programmes. Moreover,
they are also showing concern about the low electoral turnout,
and are formulating policies intended to gain the support of the silent
majority.
The taxi drivers’ action and its popular support showed the electorate
in Hungary to be far from apathetic. If people stayed away from the
election booths, it was not because they lacked an interest in politics
but because they simply did not see any of the political parties
offering a desirable alternative to Communist rule. Throughout this
article we have argued that the ‘silent majority’ could go in different
directions politically. From this point of view, the presidential elections
in Poland in December 1990 were of considerable significance.
Mazowieczki, who represented a sober version of liberal economic
policies, suffered a humiliating defeat at the polls: he finished only
third in the first round, being beaten by an unknown Polish emigré
from Canada. In the second round, Walesa secured roughly 75 per
18
In our terminology, Pozsgay’s new party will represent an alliance between the
centre–left and the nationalist centre–right.
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cent of the votes, and he did so with a largely ‘Peronist’ programme:
he promised his electorate security, law and order, as well as strong
leadership.19
In sum, we have argued that there exists a large social-democratic constituency
in Hungary around which a possible challenge to the currently
dominant Christian-nationalist regime could emerge. We have
also demonstrated, however, that during the electoral campaigns of
1989–90 the interests of this constituency remained unarticulated for
a number of (mostly) institutional reasons. It is our contention that
the future of Hungarian politics depends on whether these institutional
problems can be overcome. If the necessary centre–left force
fails to emerge in the future, then the dominance of the Christiannationalist
forces could last a millennium. If a major crisis evolves
(due to an explosive rise in unemployment, for example, or to unbearable
increases in social inequality), however, it is possible that a rightwing
force could rise to power in Hungary—a force further to the
right than Antall’s regime. This force could then fill the gap that the
potential centre–left parties failed to occupy in the last election.
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19
Significantly, voter turnout in the Polish elections was almost as low as in Hungary.
On 9 December, when Walesa was elected president, only 55 per cent of the electorate
turned out to vote.