Kontra

And so the hammer has fallen and the blow has been dealt. Fletó Gyurcsány’s wife Klára Dobrev has been selected as DK’s candidate for prime minister. This is, however, a blow that was to be expected. For all his pronouncements over the past few years, it’s clear to even the most barely sentient that Fletó Gyurcsány, ostensibly the leader of the party he created, having holed the ship of the socialists, was nowhere near up to the job. His wife, essentially DK’s main man in Brussels, has been building herself up over the past few years to a point where it was plain to see that she would be the DK candidate. No one else had a chance. Whether he wanted the job or not, Klárika snatched it from the ex-prime minister, her husband, Fletó.

Fletó has become a distraction in Hungarian politics, a veritable will-o’-the-wisp, wandering about his own, personal wilderness. Fletó’s political wilderness is one he created for himself by virtue of his disastrous tenure as prime minister. This is, let it never be forgotten, a man under whose ‘command’ the country was almost lost to bankruptcy, a man who, having exhausted all available funds and credit, instructed his minions to save those that they could, a group which excluded the population at large. That, along with his blatant disregard for the rule of law, as attested to by his instructions to the police of the day in 2006, who rode roughshod over both the rights and physical bodies of peaceful citizens whilst wantonly bereft of identification, reveal Fletó’s true nature.

Fletó’s time has passed. He’s had his day. These days, Fletó is content to pursue his will-o-the-wisp act: appearing and disappearing for the most part in and around the treeline, oscillating under of the effects of his perennial liquid diet all the while. Occasionally, he appears in parliament, upon which he proceeds to ‘entertain’ the nation with his squiffy, utterly contradictory philosophical interpretations of life. Trapped in the midst of his aimless rambling, the look of the faces of the other parliamentarians is a strange combination of fear and boredom, the needle swaying from one state to the next, keeping time with Fletó’s undulations.

So, it was clear to the world that it was to be his wife who would be thrust upon the populace as a potential successor to Viktor Orbán, rather than Fletó himself. Fletó is content to take a back seat, away from the consequences of being a candidate for prime minister. Fletó’s enthusiasm for imbibing is well-documented. Taking a back seat suits him – the pressure to perform, something he is ever less able to do well, is much reduced.

But what of Klára Dobrev? What of the wife stepping out of the bulky shadow of Fletó to lead his party to presumed glory?

The granddaughter of one of communist Hungary’s most bloody stains, to this day resides in a villa which her family claims as its own. Only the history of the villa, similar to the history of the family itself, is neither that simple nor that unsullied.

The villa was once the property of a Jewish family, but that was before it caught the eye of Dobrev’s grandfather, a very high-ranking communist. He wasn’t merely a typical member. Antal Apró, Dobrev’s grandfather was one of the most important members of the Hungarian communist leadership, and a man renowned and more recently reviled for his unfaltering dedication to communism in Hungary. This is truly a man who preached water for the populace whilst drinking wine with abandon. The villa was nationalised and Dobrev’s family took possession.

So, to clarify: this is a woman whose family stole the exclusive villa in which she and her family continue to reside. Is that the sort of person anyone would want as a colleague, let alone as the leader of a country? ‘Tarnished’ barely covers it.

Dobrev, as would be expected of a woman whose marriage to Gyurcsány reeks of nothing less than the dry paperwork of calculated profit and loss considerations, is a politician of the Hungarian old school. She’s a wannabe chameleon.

Her integrity is made of rubber. She, along with all those with whom she has been and is associated, is morally untenable. A politician of the old school, she was raised to deliver messages, messages that someone else had constructed. Messages that have been constructed by teams of scriptwriters locked in dusty rooms at the back of the office. This is the politics she and her kind offer: cynically-constructed messages that have been crafted to resonate with whichever demographic group is currently being targeted. Smoke and mirrors.

Nothing that escapes Dobrev’s mouth can be trusted. Nothing that escapes Dobrev’s mouth can be considered as heartfelt. Everything is cold, calculated, and deceitful. Following in the footsteps of her grandfather, she embodies duplicity. A woman who positioned herself as prime minister Medgyessy’s cabinet chief, it was Dobrev who manoeuvred Medgyessy’s neck into the noose to ensure that her horse won. Everyone remembers Fletó as the man who deposed Medgyessy, but he hasn’t got the skills. His wife, however, is far more skilled in the dark arts. You might say it runs in her blood.

Dobrev likes to present herself as identifying with the common man and woman, but that, again, is a cynical tactic, employed to make her appear like a warm, flesh and blood human being rather than the cold, calculating communist she truly is.

Dobrev loves to talk of helping the common man and woman, she loves to present herself as the long-awaited saviour of the common people, arriving in the nick of time to protect people and their money from the thieving government of Fidesz. Only that’s as much a fairy tale as the rest of the guff which her teams of spin doctors have fed into the media.

Having engineered her husband’s rise to the post of prime minister, she ensured that they both did very well from it. The continual accusations of government-level theft – the basic staple of all Leftwaffe criticism whenever the incumbent Hungarian government is concerned – are nothing more than a smokescreen to cover that which Dobrev and Gyurcsány oversaw after she steered him into the prime minister’s chair.

Dobrev et al. spend the majority of their time shrieking about money. Money which is being taken from the impoverished Hungarian electorate. But it rings extremely hollow given that these people do nothing but bear false witness when they seek to highlight their empathy with the common man. Dobrev inherited a villa in the very best part of town. A villa that was emptied of the original owner and nationalised. That’s not very ‘man of the people’, is it?

The amount of money that this couple have amassed is truly stupendous, latest data from declarations submitted at the start of the year reveal securities savings of HUF 823 million (up HUF 89 million from a year previously), and dividends of HUF 55.4 million (incidentally a considerable fall from previous years) from Altus Portfólió Kft. They know how to spend money, too. Last year they spent HUF 200 million on two of their properties. A further HUF 80 million was spent on buying properties for their two eldest. From asset declarations it can be calculated that they spent something like HUF 23 million a month in the last four years. 23 million. A month. That’s an awful lot of money. To put that figure into context, in Hungary the minimum wage in 2021 is HUF 167,400. What this means is that Dobrev and Gyurcsány make the same as 137 people on the minimum wage, every month. And this is the woman who would like us to believe that she’s a woman of the people.

That’s the sort of woman she truly is. She’s not to be trusted. She, like her husband is an actor, and now she’s playing the part of an empathetic woman of the people who wants to help them with their monthly bills. An actor like her husband, she’s in the politics game to benefit one person, and one person only: herself. And if people allow her to pull the wool over their eyes, then there will be a heavy financial price to pay for the whole country. Dobrev and Gyurcsány are involved in politics for their own sakes. Dobrev might try to convince people that she’s a woman of the people who understands the tightening of the belt that comes at the end of the month. It’s all a lie. This is a woman who revels in the lap of luxury and greedily wants to add every single forint going to her overflowing pot of cash.

In Dobrev’s recent campaign a new ironic low was reached when she thundered:

“We’ll return to you (the public) that which was stolen from you!”

What? Starting with the villa that your grandfather nationalised?

Dobrev. Klárika. The pig's out of the poke. The hopelessly inevitable has come to pass: Dobrev has put herself forward for the top job.

Dobrev likes to present herself as identifying with the common man and woman, but that, again, is a cynical tactic, employed to make her appear like a warm, flesh and blood human being rather than the cold, calculating communist she truly is.

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