Of late, it’s been all quiet on the Gyurcsány-front. We’ve not heard a peep from Fletó for a while, now.
There was a flurry of activity and hubbub when, with a dramatic flourish that was only missing a trumpet fanfare, the majority of the opposition presented themselves to the media to announce, and be filmed signing a declaration to the same effect: that they were all in agreement. In order to register a victory in the national elections in 2022, they had come to the conclusion that their best bet was to put themselves in the apparently capable hands of Ferenc “Fletó” Gyurcsány.
Obviously, when referring to these members of the Leftwaffe placing their delicate futures in the hands of Fletó, it’s implied if not actually stated that the golden touch, if it exists at all, comes not from his fingers but from those who hold his strings.
Fletó is a confused and confusing individual at the best of times, but the briefest glance at his political career reveals beyond any doubt that someone who knows their job very well indeed is lurking in the shadows, pulling the strings.
As a middle man, Fletó can be said to excel. A man who loves to be the centre of attention, he positively revels in all forms of media exposure whether positive or negative. This is a man who truly believes that there is no such thing as ‘bad’ publicity.
On the face of it, Fletó is the kingmaker, the power behind the throne…well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? What with the childish behaviour that seems to be the common denominator to be found in the genetic structure of any member of the Leftwaffe that you’d care to test. So, not the power behind the throne. Definitely not. That analogy, above all else, is premature to say the least. Even if, God forbid, the opposition coalition were to succeed in 2022, Fletó’s ego wouldn’t allow that analogy to work. Fletó’s ego is arguably the largest in Hungarian politics which means that he’d be more than just loath to take a back seat in the event of an opposition rout of the government.
No, ‘the hand that rocks the cradle’ is the mot juste.
But don’t forget that this is a Hungarian political onion. Not only does it smell and cause bad breath for all those involved. Not only does it wreak havoc on the guts of those who partake of it, but it’s got more layers than you could count.
Fletó’s hand might be the one that rocks the cradle, lulling, or trying to lull the stars of the Hungarian Leftwaffe into believing that he alone can guide them through the minefield that lies between them and parliamentary success.
Now, nestled in the cradle that Fletó dutifully rocks, one of the political toddlers deserves more attention. Of late, this latecomer has been the most noticeable of the bunch. You all know whom I’m referring to: the odd sock to be found at the bottom of the washing machine, Péter Jakab and what these days we are supposed to identify as Jobbik.
Jobbik, for all their protests are the odd-ones-out. They’re the ones sticking out like a sore thumb, no matter how hard they try (and we can see that it’s a gargantuan effort) to fit in with their new chums, the Leftwaffe.
The problem is that no matter how hard Jobbik try to erase their past, it’s just too fresh. It’s one thing that the Internet never truly forgets, at times people’s laziness to dig a little deeper via the Internet tends to render the Internet’s elephantine memory capabilities near enough null and void. But, ignoring the lethargy in searching just a little bit, the 180º turn in Jobbik’s intended path to the top happened in such recent times that people can remember what they were, originally, without recourse to the Internet’s memory banks.
There is no necessity for saved snapshots of the past when people still gasp in wonder at the betrayal that Jobbik inflicted upon themselves. That still sticks out like a dozen sore thumbs, and will do for years to come. A leopard can’t change its spots any more than an Ethiopian can change his skin. So, why should Jobbik try so hard? In place of shutting Jobbik down and starting again, in the vain hope that they could retain some of the 19% support registered in the 2018 national elections, Jobbik opted not for a clean break, but a 180º turn, astonishingly hoping that their voter base wouldn’t mind.
Jobbik have sold themselves out. Further, Jobbik have sold their voter base down the river, all the while exhorting their supporters to join them in switching from an anti-EU, anti-Roma, anti-Semitic, communist-hating, liberal-despising, radical right-wing political party to be found on the far right of the political spectrum so detested by the liberals, to a position of joining those whom they previously despised, joining the gang of the Leftwaffe and joining in the chorus of slander that the Leftwaffe perpetually throw at the government.
Jobbik, in effect, have unleashed a suicidal timebomb within their own organisation which, predictably, will tear their party to shreds. Why?
Because the management of the party are, apparently, suffering from delusionary thoughts. Jobbik have somehow become convinced that they will never improve their chances, never improve their 19% showing at the ballot boxes unless they join forces with the entire spectrum of what were their original arch-enemies. That suggests nothing less than that they’ve lost their marbles.
Alas, all in vain, I fear. Jobbik’s ex-spokesman, their present leader, Péter Jakab may well want to forget that which he uttered in the past:
Well, if we’re looking for even the faintest trace of consistency, at least he’s still got minimum a partial stick up his arse where Fidesz are concerned.
Other than that, though, what we can see are two items to note: the first is that a politician’s worth is located, almost in its entirety, in that politician’s fidelity. Fideliity to a cause, or fidelity to a party. Chop and change at your peril. People have an instinctive distrust of disloyalty. This is more than apparent – with their betrayal, Jobbik have seen their support plummet from their zenith of 19%. The other thing to note, of course, is that whatever Jakab says, no matter whether or how convincingly he puts himself forward as potential candidate for greatness, another, greater ego lies with the hand that rocks the cradle.