NOTE: This is the 8th segment of a memoir of the Hungarian Revolution,
consisting of 15 such daily segments. My goal is to pay tribute to two of the
martyrs of 1956: Istvan Angyal and Janos Danner. If at the end of this
series, you would like me to send you the complete text (330,000 bits,)
please let me know. I will also be happy to place this material into ant
archive that might desire it.
I do apologize about the spelling of Hungarian words: I had to make a
choice in this respect and selected to use all the accent marks in the hard
printed copies. As a consequence, it seems that the quality of the
electronically transmitted text suffered in so far, that the accented vowels
are deleted by  and are converted by  . I hope that in
spite of that, the manuscript is legible. Be'la Lipt'ak
VIII
It is hard to believe that it has been only a week, since I got my 140
Forints stipend and was planning to take Agnes to the movies. So much has
change occured both outside and inside me, that it feels like a century.
In the MEFESZ office, a daily routine has evolved. We start the day
together, by listening to the news on both Radio Budapest and Radio Free
Europe. After that, Pista usually gives us the first assignments of the day.
But this Monday morning is different. Today the news is terrible: We learn
that Israel has attacked Egypt, that war broke out at the Suez Canal. I don't
understand, why this is so bad for us, but Pista explains:
Nasser of Egypt, a Soviet ally, has denied the use of the Suez Canal
to Israel for years. In July 1956, he has nationalized the canal and kicked
out it's previous Brittish owners. So now, the Israelis and the Brits are
trying to take it back. These bastards timed their attack, because the
Russians are preoccupied here in Hungary and can not aid Egypt. Instead of
helping, they plan to use our struggle as a diversion to grab the canal. In
exchange they plan to let the Russians do, what they feel like, here.
Unbelievable! Simply unbelievable! - Pista's hands are shaking, his neck is
red, he is out of control. We are dumbfounded, but can not fully believe,
that the Izraelis and the English would do something like that.
Now the radio is explaining President Eisenhower's Policy of
Self-Liberation, which he announced some years earlier to help the satellite
countries. Our depressed mood is beginning to improve. Eisenhower is saying
that it is up to the enslaved peoples to throw off their occupiers, but if
they do, the West must help them. Pista is shaking his head. He does not
believe a word of what Eisenhower has promished. Kati Sz ke is about to cry,
she has her hand in front of her mouth. The expression on Gyurka's face is
one of total disgust and revulsion, but Jancsi Danner is optimistic:
Eisenhower will not allow the Brits to stab us in the back. He is an
honorable man. In a week, there is an election in America. The nation of
Washington and Lincoln will not let a stolen canal stand between the deeds
and the ideals of her government. No, we have no reason to despair. The AVH
has been abolished, some of the Russian tanks are already pulling out, Imre
Nagy has reestablished the multi-party system, the hero of the Kilian
Barracks, Paul Maliter is our minister of defense. No forget the Suez Canal
and concentrate on what we have to do here. (Jancsi did not know, that on
this very day, the American Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles handed a
formal document to his Soviet counterpart, stating that the USA has no
military allies in Eastern Europe. This in plain language meant: you do what
you want in Hungary.)
In the meanwhile, thousands of students are pouring through the gates
of the university on this cloudy Monday morning. Suddenly, our little
contingent in the MEFESZ office is overwhelmed by the task of organizing the
Pet fi Batallion. We have to distribute the arms, establish communications
and the like. Because of this frantic activity, even Pista forgets the bad
news and we all throw ourselves at the immediate tasks. It is such a pleasure
to see my classmates. Practically the whole junior class of Mechanical
Engineering is here. Gyuri Egry (Csampi the Men ), Laci Zsindely, Attila
Lipcsey, everybody.
My first task today is to accompany a red headed western reporter and
his camera man, who want to see our battalion. My ability to communicate with
them is rather limited, as he speaks only English, while my knowledge of that
language is limited to three words: yes, no and camel. Camel , I know,
because there is a picture of this mis-designed horse on my Father's
favorite, usually empty cigarette pack.
The reporter is very disappointed in me. It is obvious, that he wants
sensation. He is looking for corpses, blood, torture chambers, destruction,
or at least some nazis, because brutality sells his paper. If it bleeds, it
leads - he keeps repeating, while I am showing him our well organized,
national guard unit. In the gymnasium some 800 guns have already been handed
out. As they sign for their guns, the students stand quietly in line. Next to
the crates of guns, are piles off food, sent from the villages.
When the reporter learns that we have some AVH prisoners in the KA-51
lecture hall, his eyes light up, but when he sees that these prisoners are
neither scared, nor in chains, he loses interest. There is a chess game going
on between an AVH officer, who wanted to be safe and therefore came in
voluntarily, and a mail-man, who was arrested by our patrol, because we found
stolen watches in his pocket.
At this point, the red headed reporter had enough and leaves. A few
days later I see him in a hospital, with a head wound. His red hair was
shaved off on one side of his head and soaked in blood on the other.
Obviously, he found what he was looking for. Now his camera man can have his
bloody pictures.
On my way back to the MEFESZ office, I check the situation at the
gates. In front of the main entrance, there is a horse drawn lorry. An old
farmer dressed in his Sunday best, climbs down from the driver's seat, and
asks me:
Are you the university students?
Yes we are.
Well, you see, I brought this load of produce to the capital and
thought that you might need it.
Oh, we have no money for that, uncle. - I say, but as soon as I do, I
know that this was the wrong thing to say. His eyes narrow, his neck gets
red, his voice is chocked and full of emotion as he replies:
Don't say such a thing! You think that I would take your money? You
think that you can give your lives free of charge and the people of my
village would take money for our produce? - I must look scared, because he
lowers his voice as he continues:
You see, we don't know how to write demands, even the rifles feel
strange in our hands, but we do want to to take part. So please, take what I
brought. I can tell that this was a very long speech for him. Under normal
conditions, he probably does not speak that much is a week. So, now he is out
of breath and also needs to blow his nose. As his face is half covered by the
monogrammed white handkerchief, he quietly adds: We too want to be free, you
know!
In the afternoon, there is a meeting at police headquarters. The topic
is the organization of the new National Guard. Pista sends me with Gyurka to
attend it. Sandor Kopacsi greets me like an old friend, he is impressed by my
new boots. They, Kopacsi and his wife, are so nice, that I almost think of
them as family. It is a large meeting. Most leaders of the various freedom
fighter groups are here. I naturally sit next to Pista Angyal. He is still in
his white smock. His wheezing is better and he seems optimistic.
So, how is your research progressing? How do Jewish and German
Hungarians compare? - he asks with a big grin. Have you reached any
conclusions yet?
Sure thing, Jewish-Hungarians like coffee and coal-cellars, while
German-Hungarians grow tall and prefer religion. So, are you still operating
your self-propelled garbage can?
Well, the good news is, that our friendly neighborhood tanks are gone
from the intersections. Now we can actually walk the streets.
The meeting goes smoothly. We agree on the need to register all members
of the National Guard and to issue membership certificates. Kopacsi will be
our commander, he will sign all our documents. We make a quick head-count of
the different groups of freedom fighters: it seems that the National Guard is
already some 20,000 strong and still growing. After the meeting, Pista Angyal
goes on to other meetings in the Parliament, Gyurka goes home to visit his
family and I walk over to Agnes's apartment house, to see if she is back from
Lake Balaton.
She is not there, but her brother Gabor and her half-sister Judit are.
They are in a strange mood and they seem to be packing. What is going on? -
I ask. It's all over! - says Gabor. Haven't you heard, that Israel has
attacked Egypt? This is the green light, which the Russians been waiting for.
I tell you, it is all over! And I will not be a Russian slave again. I just
can't take that. If they attack again, I am leaving. Me too! - says Judit.
My Father was Jewish, but right now I hate Israel. How can they do such a
thing? What do you think will happen now?
She is 17, I am 20, so it is my job to reassure her: Don't worry. The
Russians are leaving. Eisenhower will put a stop to that nonsense at the Suez
Canal. I just came from a meeting of the armed forces. We have a 20,000
strong National Guard, and we are not threatening the Russians or anybody
else, but we will defend our country. So, instead of packing, you should be
signing up! (After the Revolution, Gabor settled in Philadelphia and Judit
in M|nnick, Germany.)
Now, Judit pulls out a small yellow envelope and hands it to me. She
does not say where it is from, she does not need to. I grab the envelope and
run out. I am already on the street, when I open it. My hands are shaking, I
smell that familiar scent, which Agnes says is only her soap, my eyes are
caressing the familiar childish handwriting as I read the message, which goes
something like this:
It would feel better if I was the most important part of your life.
It is hard to accept that I am not. If it was an other women, I would fight,
but I can not fight your love for our country. Actually, with time, I might
even learn to respect you for it. Now, all I can do is to forvive you. Don't
worry about the movie, do what you have to do. When the Russians are gone and
we are free, I will be waiting for you here at the lake. Be very careful and
make sure that I will see you. Please don't get hurt. I could not take that!
Love: Agnes.
Back at the university, there is total chaos. There are some 50 people
in the MEFESZ office and they each want to talk with Colonel Marian. The
guards at the door are com pletely useless, they do not screen the people,
they just check their identity papers and let them in. It is near midnight by
the time this madness ends and we settle down to talk about correcting this
situation. Pista is dazed, exhausted, Kati Sz ke, Jancsi Danner, Sandor Varga
and I are the ones, who formulate the plans.
Because now we have a couple of thousand armed students, plus the
cadets of the Pet fi Military academy and some regular army units, it is
essential to establish a system of structured communication. To prevent the
repetition of today's chaos, we agree that the students staying in each
lecture room, should elect a representative and that these room
representatives should elect a representative for the whole building. Only
the building representatives and people reporting emergencies should be
allowed into the MEFESZ office. We also decide that our guards should pass
out sequential numbers and only three people should be admitted at any one
time. It is also decided, that each morning, we will issue a general news
bulletin, which will be distributed by the building representatives. Before
going to bed, we write down these plans and run off some copies of the
announce ment.
Tuesday morning, the 30th of October, I had to get up early, because
my bed on wheels, in the medical emergency room, had to serve it's intended
purpose. This occured, because at daybreak, one of our brilliant worriors had
nothing better to do, but to clean his loaded submachine gun and managed to
shoot off one of his own toes. Since my bed was gone and I had to be in the
vertical position anyway, I grabbed a box of push-pins and the copies of the
announcement, which we reproduced last night, and made a tour of the main
building.
The main building has four stories and has the shape of the capital
letter E . On each floor, the corridor runs in the center and the offices
and lecture hall doors open to the sides. On this Tuesday morning, students
were sleeping in the corridors, offices, laboratories and lecture rooms. I
pinned our announcement to the doors and bulletin boards and completed my
tour of the building in about an hour.
When I got back to the MEFESZ office, Pista and the others have
already finished listening to the morning news. It was a mixed bag - says
Jancsi Danner. Imre Nagy has abolished the one-party system and has formed a
new cabinet. The bad news is, that in spite of all that, Radio Free Europe is
still calling him a Communist, who is not to be trusted. I don't understand
how a radio can editorialize like that at the expense of others. I don't
understand why they hate him so? It is very strange how they talk. I have no
idea what these people are trying to do , or who tells them what to say ?
So, what is the good news? - I asked Jancsi, because I was not
particularly interested in Free Europe. I did not care about their views,
after all, we knew who Imre Nagy is and nothing else matters. A radio
reporter in M|nnich has no vote on that issue. Jancsi agreed on that, and
switched to the good news: There is no fighting anywhere, people are
cleaning up, preparing to return to work. Israel is still bombing the Suez
Canal, but the Russians have formally agreed to pull out their troops from
Hungary. They have also initiated a major airlift, to remove all the Russian
families from Hungary. They are using some 200 aircrafts in that effort. To
streamline the airlift operation, they have occupied all three airports of
Budapest. Pista thinks that the streamlining excuse is boloney and their real
goal is to neutralize the Hungarian Air Force.
(It is interesting to note, that after the Revolution, the Soviets
claimed that Western arms and agents entered through the airports of
Budapest. The fact is, that only Red Cross aircraft landed in Budapest. 5
Yugoslav and 1 Swiss airplanes made several trips and 2 Polish, 2 Czech, 1
Romanian and 1 Belgian plane made only one trip each.)
On the overall, our mood was pretty optimistic. Gyurka told me, that
Igor Smk has started to monitor the radio transmissions of the Russian
military and twice a day transmitted our own messages to them. Pista decided
that I should spend this day in the MEFESZ office with Kati Sz ke, because
everybody else had meetings to attend in the Parliament, Army Headquarters
and elsewhere. So I tried to keep some resemblance of order, made snap
decisions on car assignments, living accomodations, food distribution, sent
out a patrol to protect two AVH officers from getting lynched. In short, I
did anything and everything that needed doing.
In the evening, when they got back from their meetings, they were
surprised to see the smooth operation of the MEFESZ office. Their meetings
went well, so we were all happy and relaxed. Pista gave me my new assignments
for the next day and after that, for the first time in a week, I was in bed
before midnight.
In the morning of Wednesday, the 31st of October, the announcer on
Radio Kossuth made an emotional admission: We have lied at night, we
have lied during the day, we have lied on every wavelength! - he said this
in a trembling, honest voice, promising that they will never do that in the
future. Listening to these words, we all felt awed. We knew, that because of
this pledge, a better future will emerge in the Danubian Basin. Kati Sz ke
was so moved, that she had to run out of the office. The rest of us, we just
stood there and could not talk for a minute.
From the radio, we also learned that the imprisoned and tortured
Cardinal, Jszsef Mindszenty has been freed by the freedom fighters and in
spite of what he had endured (he was beaten, drugged, humiliated by being
thrown naked into women's cells..), he started his first statement with: I
hate nobody, there is no anger in my heart.
To balance the uplifting news items, we also learned, that instead of
stopping the Israeli attack, the French and Brittish airforce has joined them
in the Suez Canal. So this is how this murky Wednesday, the last day of
October, started.
My first assignment was to participate in the meeting of the
Revolutionary Workers' Council of Greater Budapest. The meeting was held at
the Belojanis Factory. Gyurka is driving, while I am examining the streets of
Budapest.
The Russian tanks are gone, the fighting is over, the mood on the
streets is happy, optimistic. People are repairing the broken windows,
cleaning up the rubble. Some stand in groups, listening to radios, which
their owners have placed into the windows.
At the factory gates, the guards seem very impressed by my letter of
credence, which states that I am a representative of the Technical
University. In human history, there probably never was a time or place, where
university students were more respected, than in 1956, in Hungary.
They take us to the head table of this gigantic meeting hall. As the
leaders introduce themselves, I hear the names of Fazekas, Bali and Racz,
while I still introduce myself as Vcsi. They ask me to say a few words, so I
do: I bring you the respectful greetings of all our students. The Russian
troops are leaving, the AVH is disbanded, Hungary is on the road to become a
free and neutral democracy. We ask you to correct what needs to be corrected
at your factories, we ask you to express your broader concerns to our new
government, but most importantly, we ask you to resume production, restart
the factories of Hungary, of your Hungary.
The meeting is solemn, orderly. They overwhelmingly support the motion
that Hungary should repudiate the Warsaw Treaty and should declare her
neutrality and should never again join any military alliance. They decide
that all factories should be entrusted to and directed by their elected
Revolutionary Workers' Councils. They authorize the Councils to dismiss and
replace the Communist managers, to remove all Russian or Communist
photographs or insignias and most importantly: to resume production.
As to the ownership of industry, there is surprising agreement: they
are against state ownership, but they don't want to return the factories to
their previous owners either. They favor employee ownership of industry,
which they consider to be the ideal economic structure for the post-Communist
and post-Capitalist world.
After the meeting, we were supposed to go directly to the Kilian
Barracks, but I ask Gyurka to make a detour and stop at the Piterfy Street
Hospital. They called yesterday, that their supply of type AB blood is very
low. In the meanwhile, I learned from the Hungarian Red Cross, that type AB
blood is available only in Wienna, and they have no means of delivering it.
So I wanted to see, how urgent their situation is?
In the hospital parking lot, we witness a surrealist scene, one which
is so unbelievable, that only real life could produce it. A horse drawn
wagon, carrying a smallish barrel, has just arrived. A pipe smoking,
mustachioed peasant is sitting in the driver's seat and is explaining to an
official of the hospital:
The radio said that you needed blood, so I got you some. - he is
saying with a proud twinkle in his eye. You want to give blood? - asks the
doctor. Well, I already gave. Its in the barrel with that of all the man in
our village. - he says, pointing to the dressing on his wrist. The doctor is
dumbfounded, he is stuttering: The barr.. the barrel, that big, dirty
barrel? - he asks. Its not dirty! - says the mustachioed farmer
defensively. We heated the knife before cutting our wrists, we cleaned the
barrel with sulfur, this is perfectly good, clean blood!
Inside, they tell me that since the fighting ended, they are not
consuming that much blood, but even at the present rate, they will be out of
blood by Friday or the latest, Satur day. Today is Wednesday, and we need
two days to make the trip to Wienna. - says Gyurka. So that takes resolves
what we will do tomorrow. - I reply in agreement.
We are a bit late for the meeting at the Kilian Barracks. It seems
that all the freedom fighter units are represented, the hall is full and
there is tension in the air. At the head table, a 6'-8 inch gigant of a tank
commander is arguing with a very angry young man, with a big mustache. The
mustachioed fighter is screaming, the officer is trying to pacify him. Later,
I learn that the officer is the legendary commander of the Kilian Barracks,
General Pal Maliter, while the angry young man is the commander of the Corvin
Plaza freedom fighters, Gergely Pongracz. His nick name is appropriately:
The Mustache .
I can not get to Colonel Marian, so when I see Pista Angyal, I settle
down next to him. The meeting deals with the coordination between the
fighting units and with electing our national leadership. After the argument,
- which was caused by the conflict between General Maliter's military style
and the less orderly approach of The Mustache, - and which was settled by a
handshake, the meeting proceeded smoothly. Colonel Marian was elected into
the top leadership of the National Guard. The guard will be headed by General
Bila Kiraly and police chief Sandor Kopacsi. Pista Angyal is also nominated
into the leadership, but he does not accept the honor and instead, he
recommends his co- commander, a fellow named Olaf.
Pista is still in his white (well, not that white!) smock, his cold is
better, he looks tired. After the meeting we exchange a few words: Do you
have a few gallons of coffee with you? - I start with my usual teasing.
Sure, I will trade it for your report on the similarities between Jewish and
German Hungarians. - he replies. So what are you up to today? - I ask,
pointing at the toolbox at his feet. Well, we got a report that the cable to
the Radio Antenna of Lakihegy has been damaged or sabotaged. I will try to
fix it. And how are you succeeding in protecting the beauty of your corduroy
jacket these days? Well, it seems, I will be going to Wienna to show off my
jacket, and to get some blood, unless Colonel Marian gives me some other
assignment. Well, say hello to the Austrian girls for me - says Pista, as
we get into our respective trucks.
On the way back to the university, we see a crowd in front of the
Communist Party Headquarters. We stop. Armed freedom fighters are everywhere,
yet there seems to be no fighting. The square is full of western camera
crews. They are filming something from all directions. I even see one crew on
the roof. There is a crowd at the entrance of the building.
What is going on? - I ask the man next to me. They executed some AVH
officers and the western reporters are filming the bodies. - he answers.
Well, I know that these reporters love blood and violence, but what has
happened? It seems, they got lynched by a mob of former political
prisoners, who recognized them as their torturers or something like that. The
National Guard did not get here in time to stop them, which is too bad.
As I get closer, I see four or five bodies on the ground at the wall
and one hanging by his feet from a tree. It is an ugly picture. There is a
circle around this uniformed, heavy set corpse, which reminds me of
Mussolini. There is paper money, which fell out of his pockets. Half crazed
people are spitting at the body, while the cameras are rolling. Terrible -
I say just to myself, but the person next to me continues the sentence, which
I started: This, the whole world will see! This every magazine will show!
This will be the symbol of our revolution and not the untouched goods behind
the broken store windows, not the unguarded paper money in the collection
boxes and certainly not the unarmed children facing the tanks. Whoever did
this, should be hanged right next to him!
Now the National Guard is beginning to clear the square. I feel sick
and helpless, outraged, humiliated and violated. Gyurka is trying to calm me
down. He says that all mobs are the same. He reminds me of the red headed
Life Magazine reporter, who kept repeating: if it bleeds, it leads , but I
just can't accept this. I feel, as if my sister was raped, I feel that the
honor of the Revolution has been disgraced, and I feel that we have been
robbed of our most cherished possession, our honor.
|
(Bloodbath -- to Eva Balogh)
Dear Eva,
please fasten your seat belts: this is going to be a rough ride.
Honestly, I would have shut up and never written this article. But then
today, in HUNGARY 469 you decided to write again on the subject of Mr.
Whatshisname's "lazadas". I know, I am cruel with this posting.
So, to start off, here are some FAKED news.
"There was a terrible bloodbath in Budapest October 22nd when the
armed storm-troopers of Mr. Whatshisname tried to topple the government.
The battle got so fierce that by the end everybody got killed on both
sides, no one survived to tell the story. ("Hirmondo sem maradt.")
That's why this is the first and last time you hear about that awful massacre.
The only good news is that democracy survived."
Our argument started with your quoting a questionable source
and taking some poetic license in translating it to arrive to the conclusion
that Mr. Whatshisname is calling for an armed uprising against the Hungarian
government.
Yes, Eva, *in this specific case* the source was definitely questio-
nable. Yes, Eva, sometimes even excellent sources, which are precise in
say 99% of the cases tend to distribute gossips, false or halfway true
informations on specific matters. Now anybody with even the slightest
understanding of Hungary could know (no, why be polite? *should* know) that
most of the media is eager criticize and condemn Mr. Whatshisname. Often
duely so, but eventually some unwarranted mud-slinging is also part of this
merry game. There is a year-round free season on him, and usually doesn't get
a chance to defend himself, so there is no danger. However, knowing this,
if you read some "news" like the one that started off your campaign, it
doesn't seem to be a bad idea to make some reality check. (Remember the
title of my very first article in FORUM? It was "Forraskritika(tlansag)"... )
I am not a historian, just a common man with common sense, I hope.
Also, I realize that when posting on HUNGARY you are not writing as a his-
torian ("nem resze tortenetiroi munkassaganak" :-)). However, I believe
that our "official" and "private" ways of thinking shouldn't be too different.
And now I have to apologize. I am painfully aware that you are a mile higher
in the formal intellectual hierarchy than I ever will be. Still I was
arrogant enough to follow a different pattern of thinking than you did.
Granted, it is an outsider's way, not influenced by some four decades
of practice in evaluating my sources. So here is a summary of my unscientific
mental steps. Probably it is nonsense, but please be merciful.
1/ Who claims it? (A source quite full of animosity towards Mr.
Whatshisname. Hm. Judgement pending.)
2/ What is the word? "Lazadas." (Sure enough, it *can* be trans-
lated as "armed uprising". But it doesn't mean that it *should*. So let's
give it a closer look.)
3/ How would the word proper sound from Mr. Whatshisname's mouth?
(Quite naturally, unfounded superlatives and exaggerations are just as
inherent part of his vocabulary as of, say, Mr. Torgyan's, or of many elderly
politicians on the right.)
4/ Reality check #1. An armed uprising needs arms. (This is quite
plausible. But the only political grouping having arms is actually on the
far left, the "munkasor" not fully disarmed. It is not an accident, that the
*only* armed political incident in the last six years was staged by them
in Oroshaza, during the putsch against Gorbachev. On the other hand *none*
of his plentyful political enemies did ever claim that Mr. Whatshisname is
amassing arms. Given the general hatred towards him, they probably would
have done so had the slightest suspicion arised. Hm.)
5/ Reality check #2. Assume that he got the arms somehow. Would
anybody in his right mind announce a month earlier with exact day and location
where the "armed uprising" will start? (This was the point where I tried
to help you by offering the possibility of a face-saving retreat. You
confidently rebutted it and opted for digging yourself even deeper in the
ditch.)
6/ Try to cross-check the information. (Of course you have to know
how and where. Although not trained in these matters, I would never come
to the idea to cross-check in sources with a similar agenda. In this case
this includes at least 80% of the media. So I took the utterly unscientific
step of writing to some Hungarian friends to send me the last 10 issues
of Mr. Whatshisname's weekly, and sifted through them. I did not find the
words. Not even the spirit, but this doesn't count too much since "spirit"
is largely a question of interpretation, and yours may be quite different
from mine. However, I found some warnings against possible provocations.
This, by the way, coincided with my one and only personal experience with
Mr. Whatshisname as well (*)).
7/ Cui prodest? (Another very unscientific idea, I know. Well,
it may help scaring off people who otherwise would participate. It may be
a preparation for planting agent provocateurs. Or simply it may be the
basis of later quoting that rotten argument that "the only reason he didn't
do it is that we exposed him" -- if you wonder what is my opinion on this
please read one of my earlier posting on racism, the story of my girlfriend).
*My* summary: the original claim is highly unlikely, on the other
hand his opponents get quite some mileage out of such rumors. My bet is,
that the charges are nonsense THIS TIME.
And again, for the record, since I am (almost) infinitely patient.
1/ I am *not*, repeat *not* a fan of Mr. Whatshisname.
2/ Erratic as he is, at some point he might even consider an armed
uprising. However, only a 20/20 tunnel vision and serious lack of judgement
could have ended up to predict it so confidently this time.
3/ *Some* of Mr. Whatshisname's diagnosis is true or close to the
truth.
4/ *Most* of his diagnoses are *not* correct and airing them is
outright harmful.
5/ Even in cases where his diagnosis is correct he doesn't offer
any coherent, acceptable and consistent solutions, therefore I hope he will
never get to power.
6/ He should go back and write dramas, he was really good at it.
In some sense he still is -- he mistakes politics for theater.
7/ I am very pleasantly surprised that Mr. Whatshisname's opponents
did *not* infiltrate provocateurs into the marching masses. I have to
admit, I was very much afraid of this possibility. Thank God, I was wrong;
I want to express my appreciation for their restraint.
Tamas Toth
(*) Actually, I took the time to go and listen to a speach he gave in New York.
I wanted to hear the Messiah, the Savior who came to us directly from Heaven
:-)... For those interested in or outright obsessed with style let me assure
you that he gave the most pitiful performance. There is a huge crowd com-
peting for this title, still he is my uncontested champion as the worst and
most boring speaker ever heard. However, something interesting happened
right at the beginning. He announced that although the audience is welcome
to react and interact, no fascist propaganda will be tolerated -- and
actually there were a couple of strong-looking guys standing around who gave
some weight to this call for restraint. Clearly he was (and possibly is)
well aware of the most straightforward way of discrediting him. I found the
situation quite amazing, full of irony, since in some oblique sense while
standing on American soil he openly acted *against* our Constitution by
blatantly restricting free speech! Isn't it outrageous??? :-)
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