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.
The port project in Trieste is being overseen not by the transport or economic ministry, but by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Trade (KKM). Since then, the state-run structure has produced three loss-making companies, operating costs worth billions of forints, and an investment project that keeps slipping year after year.
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.”
This is the impression I drew from Peter Magyar’s speeches delivered in Szarvas and Bekescsaba.
It is important, however, to clarify a fundamental misunderstanding. Zelensky’s controversial statement in question was not directed at Hungarian society as a whole, as Peter Magyar interpreted it, but referred exclusively to Viktor Orban. If the political practice of presenting criticism directed at one individual as an attack on the entire nation sounds familiar, that is hardly accidental. This communication method has long been present in Hungarian political discourse, particularly when the prime minister or the government faces criticism.
Once upon a time there was an institution in Hungary where the most important questions of the world of work were not decided solely by the government. Wages, employment conditions, labour law regulations and certain elements of the social welfare system were discussed jointly by the three key actors of the economy: the state, employers and employees. This institution was called the National Interest Reconciliation Council.
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.