A Dutch Witness to Hungary’s Democratic Journey
Simon Wintermans’ life story connects Dutch family legacy, Central European transition, rural Hungary and a warning about the fragility of democracy.
Simon Wintermans’ life story connects Dutch family legacy, Central European transition, rural Hungary and a warning about the fragility of democracy.
Presented as an instrument of soft power, Hungary’s teqball diplomacy raises deeper questions about transparency, political priorities, and the use of public money in foreign policy.
Power, Patronage and Hidden Wealth Behind Hungary’s Diplomacy
The classical diplomatic function of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade has undergone a visible transformation in recent years. On the surface, the traditional elements of foreign policy still remain visible: ministerial flights to important and less important destinations around the world, the repeated announcement of new economic successes, the consular protection of supporters in stadiums and on trains, and the building of a peculiar foreign policy network referred to as “connectivity.”
When multinationals dominate precision agriculture with deep capital reserves and aggressive R&D cycles, a small Hungarian firm would seem an unlikely contender on the world stage. Yet Machinery Guide, a Szeged-based developer of agricultural guidance software and mobile-based control systems, has quietly expanded into more than 20 markets across Europe, South America and Australia. Its story shows how Central European engineering can gain global relevance even in one of the most competitive technology sectors.
In most foreign ministries, diplomatic travel is a logistical exercise. In Hungary’s, it has become a lifestyle genre. For years, insiders on Budapest’s Bem rakpart have whispered about the increasingly operatic travel requirements of the country’s foreign minister, Péter Szijjártó. Now, fresh accounts confirm that what masquerades as protocol is in fact the curated comfort regime of a man who behaves less like a public servant and more like a monarch in tracksuit diplomacy.
For more than a decade, Hungary has operated a parallel system within its foreign policy apparatus – a sprawling network of so-called foreign trade attachés (KGA), conceived as one of Minister Péter Szijjártó’s signature projects. Today, with 134 attachés stationed across 86 countries, the operation costs taxpayers an estimated 20 billion forints annually, a figure that invites the obvious question: what, exactly, does the Hungarian economy receive in return?
The honest answer is: very little.
The foreign service is one of the most important state institutions of any country. Embassies and consulates do far more than perform protocol duties: they represent economic interests, facilitate strategic information exchange, carry out cultural diplomacy, provide security assessments, and manage crisis situations. Foreign policy can only function with a stable, well-trained, and professional staff. This is why it becomes particularly striking when a country’s diplomatic system gradually—almost imperceptibly—loses its professional weight and becomes increasingly politicised.
When Andrej Babiš re-entered Czech politics, it was more than a local political comeback — it sent tremors through the heart of Europe. For Brussels, his return revives a familiar, sometimes frustrating partner. For Central Europe, it raises a deeper question: can pragmatism still hold its ground in an era increasingly defined by populism?
As the European Union grapples with one of the most divisive digital policy debates in recent years, the so-called “Chat Control” proposal has come to symbolise a wider struggle between public safety and the right to privacy. Officially known as the CSAM scanning regulation, the measure seeks to detect and prevent the spread of child sexual abuse material online by requiring messaging platforms to automatically scan private communications.
When the Trump administration signed its Most-Favoured Nation (MFN) executive order in 2025, few doubted the measure would shake global pharmaceutical markets. By tying U.S. drug prices to the lowest government-negotiated rates in Europe and Canada, the White House pitched the plan as relief for American patients at the pharmacy counter.