A Szegedi moment

Over the past decade a Hungarian man, now in his early forties, has attracted attention for converting to Judaism, beginning to eat Kosher food and observing the Sabbath. He’s also been circumcised. There’s nothing unusual about this until we consider what he was doing in the decade before.

Csanad Szegedi joined Hungary’s far-right Jobbik Party as a teenager, became its Vice President at twenty-three and in 2009 became its loudest voice in the European Parliament when aged just twenty-six. In line with party policy he was a committed anti-semite, perpetually angry with what he called the “Jewishness” of Hungary’s rulers.

In June 2012 the picture changed when Szegedi’s maternal grandparents were revealed to be Jewish. Indeed, his grandmother was an Auschwitz survivor who had subsequently kept her faith hidden for fear of the kind of persecution that her grandson had built a career on. Szegedi left the Jobbik Party in search of a new identity and in the years that followed became a voice of tolerance, speaking warmly of building a bridge between Hungary’s Jewish population and their compatriots of other religions. Those questioning his motives saw over time that he had no intention of parlaying these events into a long-term political career. Szegedi left the European Parliament when his five-year term ended in 2014, and now lives a quieter life. The hatred that fuelled the words and actions of his youth are a distant memory.

The far-right views that Szegedi has distanced himself from still have their share of mouthpieces in Hungary, and British and American voters will recognise them too. But while people speak of momentum gathering for the politics of intolerance we can point more optimistically to the politics of the moment. The moment of illumination. A switch was flicked for Csanad Szegedi, and a light came on. He saw himself and his society with a new clarity. Enough to reach this conclusion:

“The majority of Jobbik’s voters are not anti-Semitic or racist. They are simply people in despair.”

That’s a comment that may ring true for many voters across Europe and beyond. It certainly rings true for many in the UK. People without hope voting for people who offer none. Clinging to a narrow isolationism, pointing the finger at those born beyond our shores and ignoring the fact that immigrants are responsible for a disproportionately large number of successful British business start-ups. Casting aside the promise of a future in which Britain, revitalised by the youth and work ethic of its economic migrants, could lead and inspire.

Many of those living in doubt, fear and despair could benefit from a Szegedi moment. The moment when the lights come on and you realise that this diverse, ambitious, vibrant cross-section of people you want to kick out so you can get “your country” back are your country. If you’re lucky, your country could keep evolving into something better, more interesting and more competitive. And if you give it a chance you may well enjoy being part of it. 

Is it fair to say that people are more likely to smash your windows if they believe you’re having a party and they’re not invited? There will always be people whose prejudice remains impenetrable, but there are surely many more who can be persuaded to walk through the door and join the party when it dawns on them not only that they’re welcome, but that it’s precisely where they belong. 

In 2015, an Oxford University study analysed blood samples from 4,500 British volunteers to create a DNA map of the country. The results made a mockery of the anti-French and anti-German sentiment we sometimes see and hear. The DNA of British people is 45% French in origin. And the DNA of white English people is 30% German. Perhaps if we shared this information a little more freely, the anti-Europe and anti-immigrant rhetoric that casts a shadow over public debate would find less of an audience. These people, who many are quick to attack, are not just our friends; they’re part of us. Like Csanad Szegedi, if we want to see through the sham and the shame of prejudice, perhaps all we need to do is recognise who we are and where we came from.

One of the most notable acts of Szegedi’s conversion came when he burned thousands of copies of “I Believe in Hungary’s Resurrection”. His own book, littered with anti-Semitic abuse, written a few years and a lifetime before. He literally made a bonfire of his own prejudices. Having looked at them with the lights on, how could he do anything else?

With apologies to Shakespeare, some are born tolerant, some gradually learn tolerance and some have tolerance thrust upon them. Tolerance was thrust upon Csanad Szegedi. He accepted it, embraced it and emerged as something new. The man he always could have been. The man he always was. Shalom aleichem, Csanad Szegedi.