Eurasia Press & News
Shrewd political ploy or justice served? Just why did Hungary’s president pardon Gyorgy Budahazy, a notorious extremist convicted of terrorism.
Upon his unexpected release from prison, Gyorgy Budahazy, a notorious far-right activist, jumped on a horse and rode away triumphantly – straight to the nearest pub. What seemed like a scene out of a B western movie was political reality in Hungary on April 27, when Budahazy was liberated by a presidential pardon granted by Katalin Novak, Hungary’s first female president.
The 44-year-old Novak, who was elected by the Fidesz-dominated parliament last year and is seen as a loyal servant of Prime Minister Viktor Orban, argued that Pope Francis’s Apostolic visit to Hungary “presented a special opportunity to exercise the right of pardon”.
But most people in Hungary wondered why exactly Budahazy was chosen to be the lucky recipient.
The 53-year-old far-right activist was convicted of terrorism and for a range of other violent offences committed between 2007 and 2009, during the Socialist-Liberal government of Ferenc Gyurcsany. Today, Gyurcsany is the leader of the main opposition Democratic Coalition party and practically Orban’s only real political rival in Hungary.
Budahazy and members of his “Hunnia” movement attacked the offices of the then-governing parties, and threw Molotov cocktails and explosives at the homes of government politicians. A nightclub and two gay bars were also set on fire. No one was injured in the attacks except for Socialist politician Sandor Csintalan, who was badly beaten up by four masked men in a garage close to his home.
Budahazy was first arrested in 2009, but various court cases dragged on for years until eventually he was sentenced in 2022 to 17 years in prison, which was then cut to six years in March. Counting time already spent behind bars, he would have been released in 2025. Instead, he was given a hero’s welcome at the May Day celebrations of the far-right Mi Hazank (Our Homeland) party, which embraced him as a new icon of the far-right.
Budahazy appeared wearing a T-shirt with the slogan: “I am a patriot not a terrorist”. He gave a brief speech, thanked the president for the pardon, and called his miraculous release “a huge victory for all on the nationalist side”, while also praising the Fidesz-led government for its “pragmatic” politics.
Laszlo Toroczkai, chairman of Mi Hazank and an old mucker from Budahazy’s Hunnia days, declared happily that: “Finally, all patriots are free.”
Splitting the far-right vote
Some wonder if the presidential pardon is another shrewd political ploy by Orban’s Fidesz party to split the far-right vote and create a rival in Mi Hazank to party leader Toroczkai.
Mi Hazank, which originally capitalised on anti-vaccination feelings amongst voters, put in a surprisingly strong showing at the 2022 parliamentary election by winning 6 per cent of the vote. After the breakup of the united opposition, it has become the third political force after Fidesz and the leftist Liberal-Democratic coalition. Yet both are still a far cry from becoming any serious challenge to Fidesz, which won the election by a landslide.
Far-right expert Abel Bojar, research director at the 21 Research Center, tells BIRN that so far relations remain cordial between the two accomplices who fought side by side in the 2000s against the previous government. But there is clearly potential for Fidesz to draw some voters away.
“Budahazy primarily appeals to the voters of the old militant Jobbik,” Bojar says, referring to Hungary’s traditional far-right party which has since become moderate conservative. “The nationalist radicals who don’t see any problem with anti-Roma beliefs, anti-Semitism or anti-EU ideas.”
“One motivation for the government could be to lure these nationalist-radical voters to Fidesz, to prove that the governing party shares a certain affinity with them,” Bojar argues.
Budahazy’s release prompted sharp rebukes from the liberal opposition, especially from those who were once targeted by his group. Csintalan, who was beaten up by a masked gang, called the release “fascism, glorified” and that “invoking the Holy Father for such an immoral and scandalous decision is sacrilege.”
Istvan Hiller, a former Socialist minister of education whose house was shot at in 2006, recalled the cold sweat he felt when he saw his wife’s jackets stored in a wardrobe with bullet holes in them. “These people committed terrorism, they wanted us to be afraid,” Hiller said on ATV.
He wondered what effect the presidential pardon could have on future perpetrators when they see that “a terrorist act can be pardoned”.
Yet far-right expert Bojar does not think violence will return to the streets anytime soon. “For those who sympathise with Budahazy, he has never been a terrorist but a public figure who was unjustly sent to prison,” he says.
For many – and perhaps another motive behind the Fidesz government’s decision – committing violent acts against the “chaotic Socialist-Liberal government” is considered no great sin. Indeed, as time passes, Fidesz rarely misses an opportunity to remind voters about the previous government’s time in power and to discourage them from ever giving those politicians another stint in office.
Budahazy, a mechanical engineer by training and an enthusiast of ancient Hungarian traditions, rose to political prominence in his 30s. He started by organising street protests against the 1920 Treaty of Trianon that ended the Kingdom of Hungary and stripped the country of two-thirds of its territory and a third of its population in 1920, regarded by many Hungarians as an unjust settlement.
In the 2000s, he gained notoriety as a participant in radical demonstrations, staging protests against the country’s EU accession and launching a “national movement” to topple the Gyurcsany government.
His sister, Edda, is also a well-known anti-abortion and anti-LGBT activist.
Although Budahazy is legally banned from elected office and cannot vote because of his conviction, he has already made it clear that he will not ride off into the sunset and withdraw from public life.
