Symbolic Traces of Communist Legacy in Post-Socialist Hungary : Experiences of a Generation That Lived During the Socialist Era [1 ed.] 9789004328648, 9789004322110

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Symbolic Traces of Communist Legacy in Post-Socialist Hungary

Central and Eastern Europe Regional Perspectives in Global Context

Series Editors Constantin Iordachi (Central European University, Budapest) Maciej Janowski (Polish Academy of Sciences, Warsaw) Balázs Trencsényi (Central European University, Budapest)

VOLUME 7

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/cee

Symbolic Traces of Communist Legacy in Post-Socialist Hungary Experiences of a Generation That Lived during the Socialist Era

By

Lisa Pope Fischer

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: A statue at the base of the freedom statue erected in 1947 in Budapest to commemorate the Soviet liberation of Hungary from the Nazis in World War II. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2016032806

Want or need Open Access? Brill Open offers you the choice to make your research freely accessible online in exchange for a publication charge. Review your various options on brill.com/brill-open. Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 1877-8550 isbn 978-90-04-32211-0 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-32864-8 (e-book) Copyright 2016 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Acknowledgement vii List of Illustrations IX Note from the Series Editors XII Introduction “A Ghost in the City”: Reinterpretations of Communist Past in Post-Socialist Hungary 1 1 Globalized Bonds: Gift Exchange, Liminality, and Embodiment 32 2 Renegotiating Procurement Strategies: Elderly Women Applying Procurement Strategies of the Socialist Era to the Post-Socialist Condition 48 3 Reclaiming Folklore after Communist Era Oppression: Peasant Folklore of the Past Asserted in the Present 73 4 Culture of Communist Past within the Healthcare System: Reorganizing Healthcare and a Mystification of the Body 100 5 The Kitschification of Communist Material Culture: Politics Reinterpreted 137 6 Afterword Re-interpretation of Societal Change: “I am not political” 187 Bibliography 199 Index 213

Acknowledgement Writing can feel like a solitary experience yet this resulting book reflects a collective effort of financial, intellectual, and emotional support. Receiving the Fulbright early in my research career instilled a valuable seed that has grown to inspire more, and I wish to thank Huba Bruckner who was director of the Hungarian Fulbright office at the time. Support for this project was provided by a PSC-CUNY Award, jointly funded by The Professional Staff Congress and The City University of New York. Several chapters were initially presented at the American Anthropological Society annual meetings and benefited from comments and questions from attendees. I owe a great deal of gratitude to being a part of CUNY’s Faculty Fellowship Publication Program where our mentor, Moustafa Bayoumi, provided guidance and inspiration. The outgrowth of this program resulted in my writing group: Kara Lynn Anderson, Jacob Kramer, Suha Kudsieh, Isaac Xerxes Malki, and Karen Shelby. This book has benefited enormously from their many readings at different phases in the writing process. Despite being from different disciplines we continue to inspire one another not only intellectually with constructive comments, but also emotionally as we progress through academia balancing work, friends, and family. I owe gratitude towards colleagues and mentors: Roger Abrahams, Ruth Behar, Marianna Birnbaum, István Bujalos, Walter Brand, Julia DicksonGomez, Alan Dundes, Liesl Gambold, Rowanne Henry-Jugan, Jean Hillstrom, Douglas Hollan, Carolina Izquiera, Hugh McDonald, Kyeyoung Park, Laureen Park, Iván Szelényi, Mariko Tamanoi, and Júlia Vajda. While some inspired the direction of my research, or wrote letters of support, others provided guidance and helpful advice. The detailed and constructive assessments provided by the anonymous reviewers greatly improved the final version of this book. I would like to thank Ivo Romein and Dinah Rapliza at Brill for their direction and assistance in making this book possible. The series editors provided invaluable insights and suggestions: Constantin Iordachi, Maciej Janowski, and Balázs Trencsényi. This work would not have been possible without the help from Hungarian friends in the US and Hungary who ease the fieldwork experience: Ágas Péter, Banki-Anderson Brigitta, Brázovics Ildikó, Deák Ági, Fekete Géza, Frankó Pál, Katona Ildi, Katona Judit, Kozma Edit, Krasznai Mari, Köskötő Robi, Módos Csaba, Neméth Zsuzsa, Poós Gábor, Schall László, Varga Kati, Varga Vince, and Wohner Lajos. Many of these individuals introduced me to the subjects of this research. I am indebted to their hospitality and friendship.

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The people of this study welcomed me into their homes and entrusted me with their stories, and I hope my portrayals convey my heartfelt appreciation and respect. I have used pseudonyms in this work, so I will not name them specifically, but I feel especially lucky and grateful that they allowed me to listen and to tell their life stories. I owe my inspiration and emotional support to my husband, Frankie Fischer, who encouraged me to write, who supported my interviews, and who most importantly when times got stressful helped me to laugh, even when laughing at myself.

List of Illustrations 1

2 3 4

5 6 7 8 9

10 11 12

A Roma woman sits on the ground begging for money on Andrássy Avenue while shopkeepers shovel the snow around her. The minority Hungarian Gypsy population suffered during World War II and more recently have been victims of racist attacks 13 Bullet holes left in a Buda Castle area building that once housed the war ministry remind of violent outbreaks during World War II 14 Two homeless people sleep in phone booths at the underground entrance to the Kálvin Tér subway station. Homelessness has been an increasing problem during the post-socialist era 22 Fisherman’s Bastion, overlooking the Parliament building, though completed in 1902 commemorates the guild of fishermen who defended the city walls in the middle ages, and the seven towers pay homage to Hungary’s seven tribes that settled in the Carpathian Basin in 896 23 Heroes square in Budapest completed in 1900 while still part of the Austrian-Hungarian Monarchy celebrates seven Magyar chiefs 23 Completed in 1896, the Parliament Building in Budapest is the seat of the National Assembly of Hungary 29 Ica’s Soviet style apartment consisted of 43 square meters for a family of three; it had central heating, one small bedroom, living room, and petit kitchen 49 Ica makes her favorite dish: stuffed cabbage 50 The Nagyvásárcsarnok or Central Market Hall in Budapest is the largest indoor market in Budapest that houses a collection of small vendors selling everything from fish and pickles in the basement, fruits, vegetables and meat on the main floor, and tourist items and food vendors on the upper floor. Around New Year’s many meat vendors feature pigs as they are considered to find good luck. Independent vendors run each stand and shoppers can form bonds with them in contrast to hypermarkets like Tesco that are more impersonal 60 Ica rolls pasta paper-thin and hand cuts into small squares. First, she dries the pasta on a dish toweled covered couch, then stores for later use in soup 70 A visit to Ica’s entails eating soup as a form of hospitality that creates bonds 72 The szüreti revelers make their way through out the neighborhood singing traditional songs 88

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Though the neighborhood lies within the boundaries of Budapest, this man keeps his horse and carriage in his yard. The two boys wear csikosstyle outfits 89 14 Riding though the streets dressed in a Csikos costume, Viktor’s son had to take riding lessons and dancing lessons to learn their traditions 90 15 Grapes, horn-shaped bread rolls, and patriotic colored streamers hang above the Szüreti dancers 91 16 This professional Csikos rider performs at the Debrecen August 20th flower festival 94 17 I bought her birds in hopes of engaging her in life, but instead her bed remained a kind of prison 101 18 Towards the end of the day, the local medical center’s waiting room empties 110 19 The family asked me to take photographs during the funeral, and in a way it helped me distance myself from my sorrow. The men on the bikes carry the shovels they use to dig the graves 135 20 At the entrance of Momento Park stands a large Soviet-style statue of Lenin 151 21 On the “Communist Walking Tour” we visit the Ronald Reagan statue that faces the Soviet obelisk, which honors the Red Army. The tour guide suggests this stance makes reference to old Cold War tensions 155 22 One can buy Soviet memorabilia from the Ecseri bolhapiac, a flea market located a 45 minute bus ride from the center of town 157 23 Outside the “Red Ruin” pub in Budapest, a kischified Lenin lures tourists in 158 24 Tin cups reminiscent of the Soviet era depict retro themes and Communist kitsch: a Trabant, a Lada, a tractor, Soviet era cartoons and company logos, and profile views of Marx, Engels, and Lenin 160 25 Kádár era retro-style furnishings, eclectic pictures and toys decorate the interior of the Táskarádio Eszpresszó. The exterior windows show period black and white photographs including a smooching Leonid Brezhnev and János Kádár 164 26 The Terv Eszpresszó has a retro 1960s feel, the name “Terv” referring to the economic “Five year plan” implemented by the Soviet Union 166 27 Located around the corner from the Opera house, the name of the restaurant, Spájz, translates as “pantry,” and has a homey ambiance that gives the feel of stepping back in time 168 28 The Szputnyik store in Budapest specializes in new and vintage clothes making reference to “Sputnik”, the first satellite launched by the Soviet Union on October 4, 1957 169

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29 On the posh Váci street, tourist shops sell T-shirts with Soviet kitsch: a mohawk coiffed Lenin “red punk”, “McLenin’s”, “KGB still watching, “the three tenors” (Marx, Engels, Lenin), and a Trabant 176 30 At a Váci street tourist shop one can still by the red Soviet star on a white hat, and military styled hats 183 31 An image of Marx outside the Red Ruin pub in Budapest complete with drunken humor of lamp on head, and spilled cups decorated with the Communist sickle, hammer, and star 185 32 An art installation depicting a pole of seven stacked hot pink Marx heads emerges from the lake in front of the Vajdahunyad Castle in Városliget Park (City Park) 186 33 The “Two-Tailed Dog Party,” a kind of mock political artists’ group, satirizes the government’s anti-immigration stance in the Summer 2015, pointing out that many young Hungarians have themselves immigrated to London for work 188 34 A massive wave of mostly Syrian migrants tried to make their way through Hungary in the Summer 2015 only to find themselves stuck at Budapest’s Keleti Train station in makeshift “transit” centers 188 35 On a billboard in the summer 2015, the government proudly claims the “Hungarian reforms work” and depicts a smiling young woman stating, “We don’t want illegal migrants!” 188

Note from the Series Editors This peer-reviewed book series publishes innovative research on various historical, social, and cultural aspects of Central and Eastern Europe. Its main aim is to stimulate dialogue and exchange between scholarship on Central and Eastern Europe and other academic research traditions, in a global context. Although we distance ourselves from the traditional perspective of ‘area studies,’ which tends to approach historical regions in isolation and thus runs the risk of parochialism, we posit nevertheless that there is an immense analytical potential in comparative and transnational research on particular regions. Without pleading for any rigid definition of regions, we argue nonetheless that concepts of historical regions are able to serve as privileged angles through which to approach the history of certain geographical spaces and as useful devices for tackling certain research topics. One can gain from employing a regional framework of interpretation the drive for historical comparison, a permanent challenge to retain the complexity of the units of analysis, the plurality of scales, as well as the reflection on the fuzziness of the very categories of comparison. Regional perspectives have the potential to overcome isolated national ‘grand narratives’ by inscribing seemingly local or nation-specific phenomena into larger contexts. Such approaches provide a remedy against discourses of national exclusivism and exceptionalism, facilitating the reappraisal of a wide range of regional or European topics. On a more general level, this exercise in regional comparative research can potentially enrich European or global narratives. While sharing larger, Europewide developments, the rich historical experience of Central and Eastern Europe in the early modern and modern periods – marked by massive demographic and sociopolitical transformations, competing projects of nationbuilding, the impact of fascist and communist dictatorships, the processes of political democratization and European integration – presents certain particularities that makes these regions laboratories for the study of social, cultural and political transformation. The imperious need to integrate the history of these regions into a common European framework demands novel transnational perspectives of research, potentially leading to new integrative fields of study. To reach its aims, the book series has an interdisciplinary orientation, including history, anthropology, archaeology, political science, sociology, legal studies, economics, religion, literary studies, cultural studies, gender studies, theater, film, and media studies, and art history. We invite ­submissions

Note From The Series Editors

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of monographs, collections of studies, and editions of source materials on Central and Eastern Europe. Especially welcome are comparative studies at various subnational, national, and transnational levels, and studies of the shared/entangled history of these regions. Central and Eastern Europe: Regional Perspectives in Global Context is edited in cooperation with Pasts, Inc., Center for Historical Studies (www.pasts. ceu.hu) at the Central European University, Budapest, which acts as its academic host. It builds on the successful experience of, and is developed in close cooperation with, the journal East Central Europe (www.ece.ceu.hu), founded in 1974, which has been providing a forum of scholarly exchange among local and foreign scholars working on Central and Eastern Europe during the last decades. Constantin Iordachi Central European University, Budapest Maciej Janowski Institute of History of the Polish Academy of Sciences, Warsaw Central European University, Budapest Balázs Trencsényi Central European University, Budapest

Introduction

“A Ghost in the City”: Reinterpretations of Communist Past in Post-Socialist Hungary “I am what you guys in your native tongue would call a ‘loser,’ ” Patrik lamented. “No I don’t think so” I replied. “Oh but you don’t know me. Wait until we get to the end . . . to the end of the story.” he protests. “So how are you a loser?” I ask. “Because there is nothing stable in my life. There should be,” he states. “That does not mean you are a loser” I respond. “Wait, I have something to do with the situation that I am in. So right now I am in a situation where I feel that I don’t have a home anywhere. I mean I couldn’t . . . I feel homeless. I left the states because I didn’t . . . after 10 years I felt I will never be able to feel at home in the states.” [. . .] “The biggest problem is it is very difficult . . . very difficult to tell how much of it is self deception that I have been lodged in for ten years [living in the US]. You know, any kind of nostalgia in your life . . . you resort to your childhood memories where everything was basically good. You are sheltered; you are surrounded by all these familiar things. And then coming back here I feel like a ghost in the city.” Patrik, born in Budapest in 1962, emigrated from Hungary in 1986, lived in the United States for ten years, and in 1997 returned to Hungary. He has striking blue eyes in contrast to his dark wavy hair. He smokes profusely, and smiles more than the average Hungarian, though when I met him he was quite depressed and distraught. At this point in his life he was having difficulty finding his way both literally in a city he no longer recognized and figuratively as he tried to find out who he was and where he wanted to go with his life. The removal of Communist symbols from the city changed the landscape as familiar statues, monuments, and street names no longer served as reference points. Because of coming back to Hungary Patrik had been abruptly forced to think about what it means to be Hungarian, as well as a return migrant from the United States leading him to dwell upon his own identity and where he fit in society. His Hungarian identity, once a source of comfort, can now be a source of confusion in itself. This work gains understandings of adaptations to social change in a modern global world. The book that follows explores the complicated nature of identity and its relation to the societal environment expressed in daily practices associated with changing perceptions of time and space. People grew accustomed to a way of life during the Socialist era that dramatically changed with the shift to a

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004328648_002

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Introduction

Market economy influencing peoples’ everyday practices leading many to grapple with how to understand this process (Barker, 1999; Berdahl, 2010; Ghodsee, 2011; Raleigh, 2011; Todorova & Gille, 2012; Yurchak, 2005). From a Western societal perspective post-socialist nostalgia for the socialist era seems irrational particularly after the explosive celebration of the fall of the Berlin wall, but also perhaps due to a Western biased assumption of the merits of a free market economy, yet even Capitalist systems can negatively impact peoples everyday lives and experiences with oppressive work conditions and forms of social inequality. The perspectives of an older generation who experienced Socialist and Capitalist societies provide a valuable lesson in the complicated nature of societal environment and its influence on everyday lives. The core essence of this book explores adaptation to change. When there are societal changes, everyday practices that inform identity may persist but in the context of a new society this, as Bourdieu suggests, “can be the source of misadaptation as well as adaptation, revolt as well as resignation” (Bourdieu, 1980, p. 62). Everyday cultural practices provide one way of looking at the impact of Soviet rule on today’s Hungarian society. Kligman and Verdery (2011) in their study of Romania suggest a Soviet blueprint imposed on Eastern European countries provided a general model, yet like syncretism, this model adapted and changed to fit the different societies in which it was imposed. Though one can recognize shared patterns of adaptation and resistance linked to this blueprint, there were a wide range of diverse responses. Common themes relate to different understandings of time and space, identity, and cultural practices suited to fit societal constraints. Cultural perceptions of time and space impact how one moves, how one interacts with others, and how one constructs identity (See Harvey 1989, Le Febvre 1974, Gell 1992, Zukin 1991). Ghodsee looks at the everyday lives of people during the post-socialist transition: “Although the actual practice of communism in Eastern Europe had failed miserably, there were generations of men and women who had been raised to think about the world in a very different way, shaping their choices, and forging their lives within a system that operated by a set of rules that they all knew and understood. And then one day it was gone” (Ghodsee, 2011, p. 16). I would add that despite a transition to a market economy, Hungary carries lingering elements of its Soviet past. When going to Hungary to conduct fieldwork I have to change gears to “operate by a set of rules” much like a cultural code switching from an American worldview to a Hungarian one. Cultural code switching can be expressed in everyday spatial and temporal practices. Identity can change according to societal context much like a cultural code switching yet remnants of the past are reworked to fit the new context. Every

Introduction

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time I return to Hungary, the first thing I feel is why am I here? I feel out of place, and I have to readjust my understandings of time and space – things take longer to do here, movement throughout the city and in the buildings smells and feels different. It reminds me when we drove our old 1969 Volkswagen bug; you had to shift gears with a jolt and a sputter to go a different speed. Hungary has a different rhythm of life that you have to adjust to and this affects how I behave and how I perceive myself. Like the adjustment to driving in a cramped old Volkswagen, the spatial context of living in a tarnished Eastern European city feels different than California or New York. But by the end of my stay in Hungary I feel “how can I leave?” I have grown accustomed to this way of life and now regret having to go back to the US where things seem more superficial, impersonal, and disconnected. Imagine now people who cannot return to another way of life, imagine having your society change and your understanding of how the world works altered; this to some extent explains the experience of the people of this study. At first elated with the prospects of opening up to the West in 1989, the post-communist transition has been long and tiring, particularly for the older generations who framed an understanding of the world and their place in it through the spectrum of a socialist lens. Traces of communist past remain yet can take on new meanings and practices. The socio-economic frame of a society shapes experience in people’s everyday lives, hence when a society changes, it can alter people’s perceptions and everyday practices. Western styled malls cluster the outskirts of Budapest where cows once grazed. These malls change the ways people live, change the way people shop, change their neighborhood as small businesses close, change the way people use and perceive the space in which they live. As divisions between suburbanization and inner urban decay increase, social inequities are further propagated. During the Communist era with its state controlled system, people tended to define their identities in terms of their private domestic space rather than public space, whereas capitalist society puts more emphasis in the public space rather than private (See also Gal, 2002). Changing perceptions of time and space mark societal change. In what ways does societal change carry aspects of the past? How is the past reworked and molded to fit the present? These questions inspired me to think about how people adjusted their perceptions and daily practices from living in a socialist society to living in a post-socialist society. Similarly, the focus of this book looks at how Hungarians have managed to adjust to the change from living in a Socialist society to living in a capitalist market global economy. A persistent theme emerged suggesting a hybrid form of change in which people adapted everyday practices to living in a socialist Hungary yet people have

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agency reworking and adapting these practices to fit living in the spatial and temporal disjunctures of post-communist global society. I focus on a generation of people who lived through the socialist period and I use their life stories and experiences as catalysts for discussion on the ways the past informs understandings of today’s practices. This book investigates how people, including myself as an anthropologist, redefine themselves and their culture in response to societal change and how they adjust to the difficulties of present day society. Postsocialism, though transitioning to a market economy, people have managed to define their experience and way of being using practices learned in the Socialist era. To some extent “what is old is now new” in the respect that elements of the socialist past become part of the postsocialist present but are often seen and reinterpreted in a new light. This book looks at the residue of Communism in post-socialist Hungary to shed light on how personal practices refurbish this past era to fit present day issues and challenges. Post-socialist research gives insight into what socialism was but also into the impact of a market economy on individual experience. Verdery (1996) suggests post-socialist studies resemble post-colonial studies as they look at how present day societies carry elements of past societal constraints. Drawing on the premise of post-colonial studies that looks at the longterm impact of colonial subjugation, this study looks at the legacy of Soviet domination of a former Communist country, Hungary. Whereas the subaltern in post colonialist approaches look as those peoples outside hegemonic power structure, post-communist studies may look at those populations excluded from and denied voice in their society. How did ordinary people outside the realms of power, a kind of subaltern experience, react and respond to systems of power in their everyday lives? The binary power relationship between the everyday people and the Soviet state becomes complicated once the “them,” the state power in which they form their identity against “us,” was removed. Each existed on account of the other. Problems of the socialist state such as adjusting to shortages of goods, under-the-table bribery, and bureaucratic frustrations resulted in creative resistance that informs how they adapt to a post-socialist market-based society. Though an omnipresent state no longer exists, the market economy introduced new societal problems. Post-socialist society also carries the legacy of Cold War tensions between Western market societies and Eastern European Socialist societies. Each side saw the opposite as the “Cold War other.” For those who struggled with the lack of merchandise during the socialist era, there was the appeal of Western goods. To suggest a binary opposition between the Socialist and post-socialist era would however be misleading as there are levels of hybridity and anti-structural liminality in between (Spivak, 1988; Said, 1979; Turner, 2008).

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The point I want to make is that cultural perceptions based on understandings of us/them permeate social practices despite the more complex and murky mix within everyday life. Like Said (1979), I think it would be better to understand these binaries as cultural constructs as people perceive a shift from one type of society (communism) to another (market economy) as marked by a historical point in time, 1989. Though everyday reality and social practices are far more varied and complicated, people may perceive society as series of social divisions: before/after, us/them. Susan Gal claims that, “despite enormous structural changes that create state-socialist societies, some features of the public/private distinction bear significant similarities to the capitalist examples” (2002, p. 87). People associate the state with the public sphere so that “During the final years of socialism, women were associated not with the state in general but with its redistributive, social support aspects; men were associated not with the private in general, but with the antipolitics that was occurring within private spaces” (Gal, 2002, p. 90). Furthermore, the “fractal nature of distinctions such as the public/private one allows people to experience them as stable and continuous in spite of changes in the contents of distinction [. . .] The indexical and fractal nature of dichotomy allows for the denial or erasure of some levels or contexts of distinctions as people focus on other contexts. The common illusion that there is only one division or ­distinction – one shifting boundary to worry about – as the numerous levels of embedding disappear from view” (Gal, 2002, p. 91). There appears to be an assumption of a stable dichotomy while at the same time forgetting or effacing the more blurry nature of it. Though it is important to discuss binary power relations, in reality people’s everyday experiences were much more complicated. I do not want to over simplify diverse cultural identities and practices. To assemble various parts of their collective stories into a bricolage of bits and pieces loses the visceral connection to the arc of one person’s experience. I prefer to use one life story or situational account as a structural framework for a particular topic, adding voices from the other life histories that I have collected as supplements. This way you get to know a person and perhaps gain insight into the complicated nature of personal experience. A particular situational context can serve as a springboard for discussion of other themes and concepts. As an anthropologist I am more concerned with the human condition and patterns. I want to give an account of how people responded to living within different societal constraints. Adapting to the constraints of the socialist era leaks into and informs how people adapt to living in the post-socialist era. A common theme in my work looks at growing disparities between people, in particular a generational divide between a younger generation adapting

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quickly to technological advances, globalization, and a market economy, and an older generation sluggish to change. How do people today use the Socialist past to understand the present? Hungary has faced great economic and financial difficulties forcing a younger generation to seek jobs in other EU countries. People under the age of 25 have no experience of living during the Communist era, accentuating the generational divide from an older generation that did. Following the collapse of communism in 1989, people were initially euphoric about the prospects of becoming a part of Western capitalist society, yet today with economic divisions, and the gradual loss of socialist perks, people have become more cynical. This apathy towards present day society particularly for those over 50 years old, creates a need for people to understand their place in society. Using discussion of the social construction of time, space, and identity, my research suggests, not necessarily nostalgia for communism, but rather the different ways people incorporate traditions or practices from that era into their everyday practices today as a way of making sense of the past put also the difficulties of present day society. To put the book into context, what follows is a review of my research methods, a brief history of Hungary from 1945 to 2015, and a chapter-by-chapter summary. 1

Methodology: Adjusting to Living in Different Societies: Reflections of a Researcher’s Experience I looked at this woman in her white smock and clogs yelling at me, shaking her finger at me, and shuddered as a crowd gathered around to stare at me. I had just walked out of the Corvin Department store on Blaha Lujza square in Budapest, Hungary. Though I understood what she was saying – she accused me of stealing a shirt – I could not find the words to respond, to explain I was looking at lamps, not shirts, and that I did not steal. She perceived me to be someone I was not. I am ethnically mixed and my maternal Mexican heritage gives my skin a perpetual brown glow. I believe this woman thought I was Gypsy, an ethnic group that has suffered from many racial attacks, and is stereotyped for being thieves. Sometimes one’s identity and self-respect can be out of one’s hands.

As anthropologists we train to prepare for conducting fieldwork, and yet no one can prepare you for the reality of the fieldwork experience – as ambiguities, power dynamics, and subtleties fill the practice of everyday life. As anthropologists doing fieldwork we must learn our practical understanding of the world in comparison to that of the culture being studied, and inevitably there are

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moments in the fieldwork experience where these differences can smack you in the face. The anthropologist can be vulnerable. We know the importance of being sensitive to the subjects we study as many current studies contend that the anthropologist has a decided advantage over his or her subjects (in terms of authority, power, resources, etc.), but there is little discussion about the possible agency of the research subject (Behar & Gordon, Women Writing Culture, 1995; Bhaba, 1994; Clifford & Marcus, 1986; Dirks, Eley, & Ortner, 1994; Foucault, Power/Knowledge, 1980; Marcus & Fischer, 1986; Rosaldo, Culture and Truth: The Remaking of Social Analysis, 1989). The people anthropologists study are not passive, nor are they without a voice as disempowered people can practice everyday forms of resistance (Scott, 1985) and at times they can challenge you: they talk back. Fieldwork challenged my identity, yet also made me think how my identity impacted my fieldwork and research analysis. Living in two different societies made me recognize how my definition of self was affected by the society in which I lived and how daily practices and activities symbolically reflected these societal differences. By extension this experience informs my perception of the people of this study who remodel traits and practices of a past society to fit conditions of another. Identity and subjectivity shapes cognition. Going into the field I did not fully anticipate how my own identity might affect my fieldwork experiences. I have been going to Hungary since 1994 and conducted person-centered life histories with return migrants in 1996 and 1999 (Pope Fischer, Beginnings and Ends of Emigration, 2005; Pope Fischer, Return Migration to Post-Socialist Hungary, 2003). Through these return migrants I became acquainted with their mothers, and this inspired an ongoing collection of person-centered interviews and film documentation with elderly women during my Summer breaks from classes from 2009–2015. Much of my research methodology also relies on informal interviews and participant observation. My intent has been to understand a life span that encompassed living during Hungary’s communist era, as well as its post-communist transition, to create a qualitative research study. In 1996, Fulbright grant in hand, I had a naive presumption that I would go into the field to collect data and that my research subjects would treat me as a respected researcher, and they would respond to my inquiries without question. Freshly cloaked with my anthropological training and theories, I felt prepared for my task. I think back and realize how arrogant I must have seemed because little did I foresee that fieldwork, like real life, could be messy, unpredictable, and full of subtle and not so subtle difficulties and problems. Identity affected who I was, how others perceived me, and what I became in the field and more importantly my identity in my fieldwork influenced my research aims and goals. I realized my identity shifts as I move from a daily routine schedule as an Assistant Professor born and raised in America to

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Introduction

a foreigner in Hungary conducting fieldwork. The societal differences of living in the US and Hungary affect how I see the world and how I live within it. This book reflects my identity, how others perceived me, and how this affected my interpretations of what I saw. My fieldwork in Hungary spans over 20 years and I have used various forms of data collection, from informal interviews and participant observation, to person-centered life histories, photographic, and videotaped documentations. My early research focused on migrants who left Hungary during the socialist period, immigrated to the US, and after the fall of communism, returned to Hungary. Not only did their life stories reveal how identity adjusts to various societal conditions, but also insight into the impact of capitalism on a former communist country (Pope Fischer, Beginnings and Ends of Emigration, 2005; Pope Fischer, Return Migration to Post-Socialist Hungary, 2003). Through the process of these interviews I gradually became acquainted with my informants’ families who in most cases consisted of widowed mothers. Though initially not part of my original research, I would spend time with these women grocery shopping, cooking, and going to church. Only after one woman died in 2008 did I realize how important it was to record their stories more formally as well. I intend to understand a life span that included living during Hungary’s communist era, as well as its post-communist transition. Based on qualitative research, this study includes participant observation along with oral histories collected using person-centered life history interviews. I initially found my research subjects through word of mouth or the “snowball effect.” Snowball sampling is useful in “studies of small, bounded, or difficult to find populations, such as members of elite groups, women who have been recently divorced, urban migrants from a particular tribal group, or illegal migrants” (Bernard, 1988). To some extent, to get anything done in Hungary it is best to work through informal personal networks and this practice I believe is a carry over from the Socialist system (See also Wedel, 2001; Patico, Chocolate and Cognac: Gifts and the Recognition of Social Worlds in Post-Soviet Russia, 2002). Since I have known a number of research subjects for over twenty years we have formed a long-lasting rapport and friendship. Hungary has a tradition of hospitality and reciprocity that I abide by so that if an occasion arises where I may be of assistance, I try my best to comply (e.g. helping to carry a bag of potatoes up from the cellar or transporting gifts for children who reside in the US, helping with shopping or cooking, etc.). This research conformed to institutional review board procedures, including informed consent and pseudonyms. To define one’s class position in Hungary presents special challenges, as understandings of social status were different under the Socialist system. At

Introduction

9

that time the aim was to achieve a communist society in which the community should maintain the ownership of property in order to create a classless equal society. It was seen as a process to eliminate private ownership of the means of production to create centralized redistribution mechanisms. Verdery and Kligman in their discussion of peasants and collectivization in Romania from 1949–1962, argue that this process of implementing a Soviet blueprint to reach these ends resulted in complications. In order to get peasants to comply with collectivization, they had to create a form of class tension. In fomenting class war, Romania’s communists once again took their lead from the Soviet Union, whose “extensive experience in collectivizing agriculture” served as their guiding light and provided the basic script. Its central ingredient in Romania’s villages was the demonization of wealthy peasants in discourse and deed. Class war was meant to provoke social conflict as well as create unprecedented opportunities for the formerly poor. But with this policy, the Soviet blueprint ran into serious difficulties (and not only in Romania). Kligman & Verdery, 2011, p. 325

Though the utopian vision perceived a classless society, as a society that would eliminate social inequality through State redistribution, and celebration of the worker, in reality social divisions persisted. Though the government provided certain necessities of life, inequalities continued but in a different way than in a capitalist society. Those with political clout, for instance tended to have more special privileges. Social practices developed that skirted the restrictions of the state such as black markets, wasteful work practices, and underground artists. In a capitalist society attitudes linked to unequal practices in the market system filter down to everyday life. Inequities are drawn along race, class, and gender lines. In the US people often use one’s occupation as a source to categorize and define one’s class position. For example, upon meeting someone for the first time, many Americans ask “Where are you from?” and “What do you do for a living?” In my experience in Hungary in the same situation, one of the first questions a Hungarian will ask or rather tell you is “Egyél! Igyál! Eat! Drink!” In fact it is somewhat shameful not to have at least a loaf of bread in the house in case someone stops bye for a visit. People in Hungary seem hesitant to define themselves by their occupation, but rather prefer to be defined by their interests and hospitality. This is not to suggest that Hungarians do not consider class or other ranking systems, but rather that they view these categories from a different perspective than Americans do. Hungarians define themselves in terms of activities within the private sphere more so than in

10

Introduction

the public sphere. In general I would categorize most of the people from this study are from a working class, lower middle class background, which influences their experiences with socialist social transformations. These are the people that seem to struggle more with the transition as many have little education or skills necessary for a post-socialist society reliant on Western language abilities and computer skills. Given the complexity of experience I wanted to record, I chose to collect data through person-centered life history interviews. Life histories enable one to retain some of that sense of complexity and diversity experienced in everyday life. The task should be to “interpret patterns of meaning within situations understood in experience near categories” (Kleinman & Kleinman, 1991, p. 278), or as Wikan suggests, to anchor cultural analysis in “real life contexts” (Wikan, 1990, p. 20). In other words, the anthropologist should be interested in what is at stake for the individual and then expand on the individual’s concerns to formulate analysis. Memories and individual experience are influenced by the context in which they are presented. This includes not only the interview process itself, but the societal environment as well. Life histories can be used with a person-centered approach in order to get at what is important to the individual. Douglas Hollan explains that a personcentered ethnography refers to an anthropological attempt . . . to develop experience-near ways of describing and analyzing human behavior, subjective experience, and psychological processes. A primary focus of person-centered ethnographies is on the individual and how the individual’s psychology and subjective experience both shapes, and is shaped by, social and cultural processes. Indeed, to the extent that these studies focus on the individual as a locus of psychocultural processes and subjective experience, rather than on “the person” – the definition of which usually emphasizes the moral qualities that distinguish a human being, either living or dead, from other beings or things – they are more appropriately termed “individual” or “subject” centered ethnographies. Hollan, 2001, pp. 1–2

For anthropologists, aiming for experience near approaches, a person-centered ethnography aspires to derive theory based on what the subject says so that instead of imposing a theoretical framework on what people say, the anthropologist draws out theory based on what people say. Instead of going in with a set list of questions reflecting the interests of the researcher, the personcentered approach derives its questions from the subjects’ responses; in this

Introduction

11

manner the researcher gets at what is important to the individual, however, the sociocultural environment also influences the individual. Person-centered ethnographies recognize the importance of situating the individual within a sociocultural context. Levy and Hollan stress that It is important to note that these methods are not attempts to study individuals primarily in or within themselves (for, say, the purposes of some comparative personality theory, or some issue in general psychology, or to humanize an ethnography by appending life stories to it). Rather, they are attempts to clarify the relations of “individuality,” both as output and input, to its sociocultural contexts. The implication is that the study of individuals is an essential component of adequate social theory. Levy & Hollan, 1998, p. 334

Person-centered studies not only entail a form of open-ended life history interview, but also studies of the community or sociocultural environment in which the individuals live (Levy & Hollan, 1998, p. 335; Hollan, 2001, pp. 9–10). While person-centered ethnographers do not necessarily presume that human subjectivity will vary significantly cross-culturally, neither do they rule out this possibility. A primary goal of the work is to examine this issue of variability as explicitly and empirically as possible and to listen to accounts of subjective experience with an ear towards how subjectivity has been influenced by the social surroundings. Hollan, 2001, p. 10

These studies emphasize focusing on the individual subjective experience, and yet, this experience should be put into the sociocultural context to view its influence on subjective experience. A brief overview of Hungary from 1945 follows as a way to roughly contextualize the stories in this book. 2

A Brief Historical and Political View of Hungary from 1945 to 2016

Communist rule in Hungary lasted from 1945 until 1989, though this period of rule went through various styles of control. Soviet occupation in Hungary occurred in both 1919 and 1945, with differing consequences. Count Mihály Károlyi had been appointed Prime Minister on October 31, 1918 and soon proclaimed Hungary as a republic. Hungary suffered territorial losses, lack

12

Introduction

of supplies, and high unemployment. Károlyi attempted to encourage non-Hungarian ethnic groups to adhere to a Hungarian nation, and he disarmed the army leaving them vulnerable to attack by the Serbian army on November 5, 1910, and the Czechoslovak army on November 8, 1918. By March 1919, the republic of Hungary under the conservative government of Count Mihály Károlyi collapsed pushed by a Communist coup (Szakály, 1994). After the resignation of Károlyi’s government the socialist party of the Soviet Union eagerly stepped in. Béla Kun led the Communist Party of Hungary and declared the Hungarian Soviet Republic and appointed Sándor Garbai as the head of the government. The Hungarian Red army pushed against the attacks by Serbian and Czechoslovak armies. The Hungarian Soviet Republic also brutally attacked political rivals in what has been referred to as the Red Terror in Hungary executing hundreds of people. This republic was short lived as it was replaced by a counter-revolution that imprisoned sympathizers of the Károly and Kun regimes leading to the Miklós Horthy era and a kingdom without a king. Not until 1945 did the Soviet Union begin to occupy the country in a period that was to last for forty-four years (Szakály, 1994). In the German Liberation period (1945–1947) the Russians acted as the “Friendly Brothers” (A jó testvér) that helped rid Hungary of the Nazi German occupation following World War II. The Germans devastated Budapest by blowing up all the bridges that crossed the Danube in an effort to stave off the Soviet army (see Figures 1 & 2). In 1945 the Red army marched into Hungary to liberate them from the Germans. Soon however the Russian saviors became the dinner guests who refused to leave. The Soviets liberated the Hungarians from the Germans only to begin to take over the country for themselves. In this period some democracy was allowed, but key governmental positions were filled by communists and a radical agrarian reform was introduced, which entailed removing former landowners and aristocracy to form a collective state run cooperative farming. By February 1, 1946, Hungary is declared a Republic, and by 1947 the communists take complete control of the country. With the Trianon Treaty in June 1920, and the later Treaty of Paris signed on February 10, 1947, Hungary lost twothirds of its pre-war territories a decision related to ethnic language ties over historical connections. With these redrawn boundaries roughly one third of the 10 million ethnic Hungarians remained outside the new borders of Hungary. Communist leaders who had left during the 1919 occupation of Hungary returned with a vengeance, deporting many ethnic German-Hungarians whether or not they supported the German invasion or the pro-Nazi movement. The Communists introduced a one-party system, and nationalized banks and industry. They reformed education to a Soviet model eliminating religious

Introduction

Figure 1

13

A Roma woman sits on the ground begging for money on Andrássy Avenue while ­shopkeepers shovel the snow around her. The minority Hungarian Gypsy population suffered during World War II and more recently have been victims of racist attacks. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

and private schools. Practical and technical education downplayed humanities and social sciences (Hosking, 1992, pp. 319–320; Szakály, 1994; Andorka & Harscsa, 1999, pp. 25–24; Kligman & Verdery, 2011). In the Totalitarian period (1947–mid 1960s) the country was under complete control of the Communist Party. In June 1948 The Communist Party and Social Democratic Party blended together to create the Hungarian Working People’s Party becoming a one-party system in which a small power elite of communists controlled the country. By 1949, under much protest, Hungary was declared the Peoples’ Republic of Hungary, and the communist party turned Hungary into a typical Stalinist state with a centralized state, collectivized farming,

14

Figure 2

Introduction

Bullet holes left in a Buda Castle area building that once housed the war ministry remind of violent outbreaks during World War II. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

Introduction

15

and an application of Marxist-Leninist principles. Mátyás Rákosi, the chief secretary of the Hungarian Working People’s Party, lead Hungary through a period characterized as one of severe oppression where even private critiques toward the state were punished. Neighbors reported on neighbors. Personal disputes could lead to reporting to officials for spite. Literature and the arts were censored to reflect benign or positive messages of the system. László Rajk a popular leader of the Hungarian Communists, and rival to the Hungarian Working People’s Party suffered from an arrest, trumped up charges, a forced confession, and eventual execution. Mátyás Rákosi introduced totalitarian rule executing and imprisoning thousands of people. People deemed threatening to the state were forced into labor camps, and upper-class people were deported from the cities to live in villages in the countryside to work in agricultural farming. The Rákosi era reforms impacted the economy and social structure of the country. Though Hungary had traditionally focused on textile and agriculture, by 1950 Rákosi implemented a Soviet industrial economic model developing heavy industry. Many rich peasants (kulák) resisted joining farming cooperatives, inspiring the government to enforce conformity through intimidation, imprisonment, and confiscation of property. In the city, stores and shops had difficulty stocking food and meat shortages were common. Though education reforms aimed to improve the conditions of the poor and working class, Communist propaganda ideology became part of the curriculum, and the state usurped control of religious schools. There were political struggles between Rákosi and Imre Nagy who had been put into power after Stalin’s death on March 5, 1953. Imre Nagy relaxed some of the state controls introduced under Rákosi’s control such as closing the forced labor camps, releasing political prisoners, and increasing consumer products. However Rákosi briefly regained power and condemned Imre Nagy. The Soviets then appointed Ernő Gerő, a close Rákosi ally, to take over. Eventually by 1956 there was a public uprising against Communism. The threat of resistance to communist rule was a real one. In 1956 a revolution occurred, taking its cues from the peasant revolutions of the past. The revolution was sparked on October 23 when students rallied in support of Polish attempts to gain independence from Soviet domination. In response to police brutality, the protesters retaliated by cutting the Soviet symbol out of the Hungarian flag, attacking Soviet monuments, and ransacking the party newspaper. They wanted Imre Nagy to be reinstated into power. They wanted free elections, and autonomy from Soviet domination. Imre Nagy tried to make Hungary neutral by withdrawing from the Warsaw pact. Attempts were made

16

Introduction

to gain assistance from the United States, but Hungary’s cries for help were not heard as the United States was too busy dealing with the problems surrounding the Suez Canal. By early November there was not much hope. Soviet tanks rolled into Budapest on October 24 and opened fire on the protesters. The Soviets had taken control of Budapest and restricted the country’s borders. Imre Nagy had fled for asylum at the Yugoslav embassy but was tricked into boarding a bus and murdered. The Communist Party, claiming to be representative of the people, denounced the ’56 revolution as a counter-revolution ignoring its implications as a popular uprising. Shocked by the uprising, the Hungarian Working People’s party pushed out Ernő Gerő, and put János Kádár into power. Under János Kádár’s control, about 25,000 political prisoners from this revolt were sent to prison work camps. Many political prisoners were tortured and interned. About 2,000 were executed. Others attempted to escape by emigrating from Hungary, some died in their attempts. This revolution was what some claim to be the only anti-communist revolution in history (Szakály 1994: 77). A fear of future uprisings led to a more softened period in Hungary’s Socialist history (Andorka and Harscsa 1999: 25–24, Library of Congress 1997). The softened communism of the Socialist Market period ran from the mid 1960s to mid 1970s. The intensity of domination under state socialism waned after 1956 as perhaps a means to avoid a repeat revolution. Some have labeled this softened form of communism as “Goulash Communism” – “Gulyás” being a traditional Hungarian soup made with chunks of beef and mixed vegetables. Ideological opposition in a softened form was somewhat more tolerated. Though it is still difficult to determine what led to the collapse of communism in 1989, some have considered the 1956 revolution to be the seed that led to its eventual downfall. There was a moderation of liberalization in the early 1960s. Economic policy aimed to improve the standard of living in part to appease a population capable of uprising. The Kádár regime introduced a socialist style market economy to fix problems with the system yet also keep the Hungarian Socialist Workers’ Party in control. May of 1966 marked the introduction of a reform called the New Economic Mechanism (NEM). NEM aimed to improve central planning by giving more authority within the firms themselves in order to encourage workers to work harder and increase production. The hope was to make Hungarian products more competitive in the foreign market, to improve the economy, and create political stability. With an improved economy, and with goods becoming more readily available, personal consumption and standards of living rose (Ehlrich and Révész 1995: 22). Initially NEM did quite well in increasing production and trade, but it did not have the widespread anticipated success breaking up unproductive prac-

Introduction

17

tices. Hoarding of materials, under the table deals, and privileged exchanges ­continued. The Russian government began to raise concerns about NEM because of a rise in the petite bourgeoisie. This led to a reintroduction of measures to increase centralization in 1972, but this in turn led to the return of more wasteful work practices (Andorka and Harscsa 1999: 25–24). The practice of a “second economy” also became popular during this period. The second economy typically consisted of personal business ventures developed on the side of one’s real government sanctioned job. One could open a small food stand on the street, for example. Though this was often illegal, the state averted its eyes and tolerated a booming second economy. It was still often difficult for consumers to buy the products they wanted, though now they could afford to buy them. Though still below Western economic standards, Hungary’s prosperity and softened communist control made it rather well off when compared to other Soviet controlled Eastern European countries (Andorka and Harscsa 1999: 25–24, Library of Congress, 1997). From the 1970s to 1989, the style of communist control in Hungary can best be described as a period of stagnation. Both economically and politically the country was at a standstill. By the end of the 1970s, measures were implemented to break up institutions into smaller enterprises. There was an overall trend towards decentralization. The modernization of Hungarian agriculture advanced dramatically with American machinery and production methods. By 1982 small private businesses were legalized. Cooperative farming works stood alongside household farming plots. With the allowance of family plots came increased interest in personal production and gain (Szelenyi, 1988). According to Ehrlich and Révész The small-scale producers decided on a basis of self-interest whether to join into some link in the chain of integration, or whether to produce and market independently. The importance of the issue is clearly shown by the fact that small holdings accounted for 37% of total agricultural output in 1988, using only 13% of the farmland. It is also important to note that Hungarian agriculture, specializing under the COMECON in agricultural mass production, had to face sales and profitability problems on the world market in the 1980s, due to the over-supply and falling prices of the main commodities it was producing (1995: 17). However, soon the modernization process suddenly stopped as the economy worsened into the 1980s (Ehrlich and Revész 1995: 16–19, Körösényi 1992: 1–12). The mid to late 1980s were characterized by a gradual disintegration of the social system and economy. The 1980s were marred with the demands of social

18

Introduction

benefits that put a further strain on the states failing economy. The pension system “Nyudíj” was especially taxed in Hungary due to a disproportionate elderly population and liberal disability pension. In addition education and healthcare were also provided by the state (Ehrlich and Révész 1995: 20). By the late 80s Hungarian industry was unbalanced as there was an emphasis on heavy industry (such as steel factories) with an undersized service sector. According to Ehrlich and Révész The economy was characteristically material and energy intensive, and dominated by mass production in large establishments and enterprises. Moreover the economy was typically dominated by large organizations in monopoly or quasi-monopoly positions. This legacy remains a great burden on the country today, during a period of restructuring, even though the final phase of one-party state socialism saw a move towards the kind of structures common in market economies (1995: 16–17). This period of stagnation became the arena for the eventual collapse of Communism. (Ehrlich and Révész 1995: 16–19, Körösényi 1992: 1–12) During this period of stagnation, the socialists’ ability to maintain power via the control of distribution weakened. As Hungary’s international debt increased, gross investment decreased, yet personal consumption increased. One consequence was that it became increasingly difficult for consumers to buy the products they wanted. The increased consumer buying power came from the booming second economy. Personal incomes from work rose by over 7%, but real wages . . . fell by over 7%. Behind these conflicting trends . . . lies the partly legal, partly illegal (unregistered) second economy. Economic activity pursued mostly on a part-time basis outside the ‘socialist’ (state and cooperation) sector began to spread fast in the 1980s in every branch of the economy . . . People seized every chance of work in a second job in order to compensate for the falling purchasing power of their wages. Such a secondary activity alongside a main job became regular in two-thirds of Hungarian households, about half consisting of small-scale agricultural production only partly linked with the market. Ehrlich and Révész 1995: 19

From 1985 to 1987 there was a period of communist reform in an attempt to alleviate the economic problems. Attempts were made to halt the liberalizing measures implemented in the previous period and to reinstall more stringent

Introduction

19

measures. Yet soon after, the communist reforms were stymied by the liberal measures that prevailed and the prospering second economy. From this time until 1989, communism gradually deteriorated as opposition grew in strength (Ehrlich and Révész 1995: 16–19, Körösényi 1992: 1–12). A series of events throughout the Eastern Bloch led to the collapse of Communism in the region, and marked the end of the Cold War with the West. On June 12, 1987 American president Ronald Reagan infamously shouted “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall” referring to tearing town the Berlin wall that separated the Eastern Soviet Germany from the Western Germany. In 1989 in Poland anti-communist trade unions had protested for freer elections. Restrictions in Hungary had loosened with economic and political reforms. The body of Imre Nagy was exhumed from an unmarked grave and formally reburied in a grand public funeral on June 16, 1989 symbolically marking a transition in history (Verdery, 1999). Hungary began measures in 1988 to make it easier for citizens to travel outside the Soviet Bloch and by May 1989 barbed wire fence on the Austrian border was removed. Not only did this encourage carloads of people to cross the border to purchase Western goods but Eastern Germans seized the opportunity to go through Hungary to escape to Austria. In Germany with the removal of travel restrictions the Berlin Wall fell on November 9, 1989 (Ash, 1993; Stokes, 1993). In the 1990s, after the collapse of communism, Hungary began transitioning to a free-market economy. By 1990 they established a multi-party political system and eventually a parliamentary democracy. In May 1990 Hungary held its first free parliamentary election putting Jószef Antall into the role of Prime Minister. Soviet troops left by 1991. The economy in Hungary stumbled early in the transition with the loss of export markets and Prime Minister Jószef Antall’s market reforms. Industrial output fell, unemployment rose, and government overspending further contributed to economic problems. The early 1990s saw high inflation rates and social welfare programs being cut. In May 1994 the Socialist party won, placing Gyula Horn into the office of Prime minister. By 1995 Prime Minister Gyula Horn cut back deficits and put forth privatization efforts that began to improve the economy and lessen inflation. Inflation peaked in 1991 at 34.85% dropping to 18.32% in 1997 (Worldwide Inflation Data, 2016). In May 1998, the Fidesz party placed Viktor Orbán in the role of Prime Minister. By 1999 Hungary became part of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO). To some extent the post-socialist story is also linked to new understandings of globalization particularly in terms of the “nation state.” A nation state is a type of political organization that implies a sense of boundaries or containment of a unified group of people who share political, economic, linguistic,

20

Introduction

cultural, as well as territorial ties, however in the context of globalization, the idea of a nation state becomes more ambiguous. As Miyosi argues, the nation state itself no longer functions because “it is thoroughly appropriated by transnational corporations” (Miyoshi, 1993, p. 744). Sociology tends to see in terms of bound nation states: “much of the theoretical and empirical thrust of sociology has been focused on the internal analysis or cross nation comparison of ‘societies’, which are taken to be contained within the boundaries of the nation-sate” (Morris, 1997, p. 193). Yet globalization challenges the bounded nature of nation states. The European nation has, at least in principle, grown up around an ‘ideal’ of cultural homogeneity, established and reinforced through the state controlled transmission of literate culture, alongside state control over entry and the acquisition of citizenship; thus the nation represents territorialized cultural belonging, while the state formalizes and controls legal membership. Morris, 1997, p. 194

Morris explores the “global/national tension noted in much of the globalization literature. More critically, this account attempts an assessment of quite how ‘post-national’ Europe really is, and how far ‘globalization’ offers any help in unraveling the complexity of empirical evidence” (Morris, 1997, pp. 194– 195). Steger argues there are three major questions to address in regards to the nation state: Is it really true that the power of the nation-state has been curtailed by massive flows of capital, people, and technology across territorial boundaries? Second, are the primary causes of these flows to be found in politics or economics? Third, are we witnessing the emergence of global governance? Steger, 2009, p. 59

Issues related to the nation state and globalization impact the post-socialist experience such as migration, economics, culture, as well as forms of nationalism. Hungary became part of the European Union (EU) in 2004 affecting the Hungarian population in new ways. There were new restrictions on product production to meet EU standards, as well as rebuilding efforts using EU monies. As part of the EU’s free movement of workers program, Hungarians no longer required work permits in other EU countries. Hungarians have the same

Introduction

21

employment rights as citizens of other EU countries and employee rights can be found translated into Hungarian. They do not require a job in the country beforehand, hence they can go to seek employment and some countries offer training and employment opportunities for job seekers (www.europe .eu). Ruso States, “Hungary’s accession to the EU has had a direct impact on its migration flows. Following accession to the EU, Hungarian acquired the option to move and work in certain EU 15 countries, such as the UK, Ireland or Sweden, where labour restrictions were immediately lifted, or thanks to bilateral agreements with Germany and Austria” (Rusu, 2011, p. 160). A pattern has developed in which young, often educated Hungarians go to live and work in London and Ireland performing low skilled jobs. In 2008 Hungary fell to economic recession during which the government created higher taxes while cutting salary and pensions. In 2010 the re-elected Fidesz leader Prime Minister Viktor Orbán promised to cut taxes and to create jobs. The unemployment rate from 1999 to 2015 has averaged at 7.95 percent, the lowest point being in October 2001 at 5.5 percent, yet peaking at a high of 11.80 percent in March 2010 (Trading Economics 2015). Still economic issues loom with concern of growing divisions between people’s living standards, and widening gaps between rich and poor. Particularly at risk are people over 65, single-female headed households, and members of the Roma population (TARKI 2014, European Social Policy 2014, Salzman 2014, Blasszauer and Hazafi 1995) (See Figure 1). Homelessness has been an increasing problem since the economic changes in 1990 in part due to reduced employment and affordable housing (See Figure 3). “In 1989 what took most people – social politicians, social workers, scientists and the general public – by surprise was the unexpectedly high number of homeless people emerging out of nowhere” (Dávid & Snijders, 2002, p. 291). The problem peaked to the point that the Hungarian’s Fidesz government has criminalized homelessness in its constitution on March 11, 2013 (Udvarhelyi, 2014, p. 824). Udvarhelyi argues criminalizing homelessness not only asserts political domination, but also obscures “the failure of the state to address the social, political, and economic contradictions that became salient at the time of the regime change” (Udvarhelyi, 2014, p. 812). Hungary today faces many similar socio-economic inequality issues as other Market economies, but they also must grapple with tensions related to appealing to developing and maintaining a Hungarian identity while also fitting into the broader Western society. What does it mean to be Hungarian today and where does Hungary fit within the grander notion of a collective Europe? The World Bank currently classifies Hungary as a High Income Economy (World Bank, 2015). It has a current population of 9,939,470 in which 98.2% of the population speaks Hungarian

22

Figure 3

Introduction

Two homeless people sleep in phone booths at the underground entrance to the Kálvin Tér subway station. Homelessness has been an increasing problem during the post-socialist era. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

(Country Reports, 2015). There is a feeling that Hungary needs to develop a national identity in order to assert its independence and given its history of foreign occupations this is clearly understandable (See Figures 4 & 5). Cultural practices may reinvigorate national identity and provide insight into broader social, political and economic forces. However, nationalist assertions can be problematic. Gerald Creed in his study of ritual in Bulgaria suggests ritual can “reveal a notion of community in which conflict is constructive rather than disruptive. This model of collectivity easily incorporates and tolerates minority populations but without any pretense or promise to end ethnic prejudice. This combination underwrites a paradoxical variant of nationalism that is simultaneously foundational to social identity for Bulgarians yet rather benign in affect” (Creed, 2011, p. 3). Nationalism can be a source of racism or can be related to class struggle (Balibar & Wallerstein, 1991). Russian President Vladimir Putin introduced Nationalist policies to bolster Russian patriotism yet this has also influenced the rise in skinhead youth to the extent that they have “grown part of a right-wing populist movement in a country and has imbued mainstream political discourse with an increasingly racist and xenophobic tinge” (Worger, 2012, p. 276). A similar trend emerged in Hungary. Hungary’s third largest party, a conservative radical nationalist party called the Jobbik (Jobbik Magyarországért Mozgalom – The Movement for a Better Hungary), terrorized Roma communities outside Debrecen, and participated

Introduction

23

Figure 4

Fisherman’s Bastion, overlooking the Parliament building, though completed in 1902 commemorates the guild of fishermen who defended the city walls in the middle ages, and the seven towers pay homage to Hungary’s seven tribes that settled in the Carpathian Basin in 896. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

Figure 5

Heroes square in Budapest completed in 1900 while still part of the AustrianHungarian Monarchy celebrates seven Magyar chiefs. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

24

Introduction

in protests against Syrian migrants. They reject global capitalism, and tend towards anti-semitism, racism, and homophobia (Kovács A., 2013; Salzmann, 2014). Hostility against new migrants seen as culturally different peaked in the summer of 2015 as thousands of Syrian migrants tried to cross Hungary to reach Germany for a better life in a more economically stable country. Fences built during the Communist era to keep Hungarians from fleeing the country illegally had long since been torn down, but now Prime Minister Viktor Orbán quickly rebuilt fences to keep migrants out. He claims that Hungary simply cannot economically and culturally support this historically massive wave of migrants. The social, cultural, and economic legacy of Russian Communism impacted people’s strategies and practices in response to societal constraints. As people negotiated to living in a new system, some of the old practices adaptive to the Soviet occupation have been recycled and filtered into post-socialist society. This book focuses on people’s everyday experiences particularly related to lingering aspects of the Soviet past that impact the present. The stories in the following chapters explore the symbolic ways people construct a sense of self in such a way that reveals how the Communist past informs their everyday routines and practices today. 3

Chapter Summary

Just as I had moments of culture conflict and embarrassment during my fieldwork experiences, the people in my study sometimes have acquired practices absorbed during the socialist period that do not necessarily conform to a market capitalist societal way of life, hence creating a culture clash hybrid of socialist and capitalist practices. My fieldwork indicated to me that my prior identity as an American anthropologist persisted even though this identity came into conflict with the people I studied as their practices and ways of being were set for Hungarian society. This informs my research as I look at societal change in their lives, just as I experienced societal change moving from the US to Hungary. Bourdieu suggests The presence of the past in this kind of false anticipation of the future performed by the habitus is, paradoxically, most clearly seen when the sense of the probable future is belied and when dispositions illadjusted to the objective changes because of a hysteresis effect (Marx’s favourite example of this was Don Quixote) are negatively sanctioned because the environment they actually encounter is too different from

Introduction

25

the one to which they are objectivity adjusted. [. . .] The tendency of groups to ­persist in their ways, due inter alia to the fact that they are composed of individuals with durable dispositions that can outlive economic and social conditions in which they were produced, can be the source of misadaptation as well as adaptation, revolt as well as resignation. Bourdieu, 1980, p. 62

Everyday practices can be a way to understand patterns that inform identity particularly as people adjust to and adapt to societal changes, and as Bourdieu suggests, people may “persist in their ways” in a manner that may be a form of “misadaptation as well as adaptation, revolt as well as resignation” (Bourdieu, 1980, p. 62). De Certeau suggests societal structures provide frames in which agents negotiate meanings. He aims to “trace the interlacings of a concrete sense of everyday life, to allow them to appear within the space of memory” (De Certeau, Giard, & Mayol, 1998, p. 3). Pierre Mayol defines cultural practices as “underlying value systems structuring the fundamental stakes of everyday life, unperceived consciously by subjects, but decisive for their individual and group identity” (De Certeau, Giard, & Mayol, 1998, p. 263). These practices can include the use of everyday material objects, social obligations and gift giving, as well as regular tasks such as shopping or going to the doctor. Hence looking at everyday practices can be a way in which to explore how people have adapted to post-socialist change while at the same time carrying practices from the socialist past with them, some adaptive, some maladaptive. As I tend to focus on the elderly, throughout this book you will find the word néni, which literally translates as “aunt,” but a younger person usually refers to an older woman using this term as a sign of respect. Bácsi translates as “uncle,” but indicates a respectful salutation to an older man. The old practice of gift exchange and hospitality prevalent during the Socialist period persists today but in new forms. I befriended Lea (1963) and her mother Albertina néni (1939) over 20 years ago. I had interviewed Lea for a project related to migrants who had emigrated from Hungary during the socialist period, and immigrated to the United States. At the time Lea had been undergoing a long drawn out struggle to attain US citizenship and though she had obtained a green card allowing her to stay and work in the US, she could not travel home to Hungary to visit her mother, but I could. Each time I packed up to return to fieldwork in Hungary, Hungarian immigrant friends in the US would come to bring gifts for me to give their families back home. During the Communist era when resources could be limited, gift exchange could serve to gain access to limited goods and form bonds with people for special favors. I use Lea and her mother’s experience as a way to gain insight into this p ­ rocess

26

Introduction

of gift giving as a way to explore how it creates bonds with relatives that defy borders, but also how I as the deliverer of these gifts occupy a liminal space that connects the two. As our globalized world creates elastic international boundaries, as familial bonds extend across continents, anthropology can become a liminal threshold between cultures to create textured understandings of space and time as they connect to power, memory and identity. Chapter one draws on several experiences with different people but focuses primarily on one illustrative family: Lea (1963) and her mother Albertina néni (1939).  Chapter one, “Globalized Bonds: Gift Exchange, Liminality, and Embodiment” uses textual analysis of a representative example gift exchange. This chapter addresses how trans global gift exchange (1) creates transnational social obligation (2) creates a liminal space that bonds people together, and (3) illustrates an embodiment of the social production of space. This exchange highlights how gift exchange practices of the past have been reworked to fit present, and sometimes transglobal, contexts. While in the Socialist period people developed strategies to deal with limited resources, today people such as Ica néni, must use strategies learned during the Socialist era to deal with limited incomes. Chapter two, “Renegotiating procurement Strategies: Elderly Women Applying Procurement Strategies of the Socialist era to the Post-socialist Condition,” looks at soup making as a way to view the impression of the former Communist society on Hungarian pensioner women’s food procurement strategies today. Food as a practice illustrates agency: strategies and tactics used in time and space to communicate meaning for people in everyday life. During the Socialist period women bore the irritations of waiting in lines to acquire limited resources, yet when able to attain goods they might be perceived as valiant providers. With the market economy they no longer had to deal with limited goods on store shelves weakening their influence as crafty food providers. Nevertheless the subsistence talents adapted in the socialist era now give them an edge when adjusting to more scarce resources to purchase these items. Focusing on Ica néni’s soup making and food acquisition allows a visceral view into the everyday experience of adaptation and change. Not only does this chapter explore how women rework past practices of food acquisition during the Socialist period to apply to new economic issues, but also issues related to gender and agency. A community on the outskirts of Budapest celebrates a peasant wine festival that was restricted during the Communist era due to fears of Hungarian nationalism and fears associated with peasant uprisings. Under Communism, private farms were appropriated by the state to form collective farming, yet some of these former landholders still feel a strong tie to “the land!”, “A föld!”

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27

This chapter focuses on the experiences of Viktor and Mária néni as they describe their peasant cultural heritage and frustration over the loss of their family land to cooperative farming. Today people are reinventing ties to peasant traditions to fit present day society. Chapter three, “Reclaiming Folklore After Communist Era Oppression: Peasant Folklore of the Past Asserted in the Present” looks at how “folklore” can attempt to maintain continuity, and also illustrate reinvention or a reclaiming of the past. This chapter asserts that time is a social construct and ritual can be a symbolic collective assertion of time reflecting socio-economic change, spatial and temporal constructs. The past plays a role both officially and unofficially in creating a new image. Individuals reclaim past traditions (such as festivals, food, and music) yet fuse them with present day values. Memory recovers cultural practices that reassert a Hungarian identity that the Soviet system had suppressed. Within today’s troubling post-socialist society, memory and the reconfiguration of time is a tool that reconstructs history and draws on cultural symbols to create meaning. The expression of folklore is one way to explore the constructed and social nature of time. Looking at Viktor’s family celebration of a Hungarian harvest ritual illustrates a social construction of time that indicates a hybrid nature of change. Complications of a society in transition reflect an ambiguous disconnectedness with the past and present. Looking at Hungary’s healthcare system through the perspective of one individual’s experiences sheds insight into how facets of the Communist past remain, yet are complicated by problems in post-socialist Hungary. Chapter four “Culture of Communist Past Within the Healthcare System: Reorganizing Healthcare and a Mystification of the Body” explores a spiritual turn in health care practices to illustrate how aspects of the socialist past remain yet agents rework them in the post-socialist present. Using Csilla néni’s life story as a vehicle in which to view the Hungarian healthcare system, this chapter explores negotiated ways in which people interpret health and their use of the healthcare system. Postsocialism, the medical system had to be updated to fit the new economy; yet cultural practices acquired during the communist era persist. Through one person’s life story within the healthcare system in Hungary, Csilla néni’s story shows individual understanding and perception to give a face to more generalized accounts in order to further understand the mystification of the body. A mystification of the body relates to the individual, the society, as well as systems of power. Confusion and uncertainty linked to both Hungary’s societal change as well as feelings of alienation from its medical system can evoke a mystification of the body. Chapter four aims to explore beliefs about the medical and healthcare system in post-socialist Hungary. Though this is

28

Introduction

not an official portrayal of the healthcare system, I intend to unravel how this system affected a single life to connect subjective perspectives and practices to understandings of healthcare services in Hungary. I have known Pisti (b. 1957) since 1993, yet in 2013 when I formally interviewed him; I was surprised to hear him say the favorite part of his life was as a child when he participated in the Communist young pioneers club. When I told him I was interested in exploring Communist kitsch, he accompanied me on visits to several “retro” themed Cafes, a Communist walking tour, and encouraged me to watch Fábry Sándor. In retrospect, I should not have been surprised at Pisti’s nostalgia for his youth, as he has certainly suffered in today’s society. Having taken a flexible interest mortgage from a Swiss bank to purchase a home for his mother, the 2008 mortgage crisis created insurmountable debt well over the value of the home itself forcing Pisti to seek work in Germany and rent out his apartment trying desperately to make ends meet. In what way does present day Hungary reflect its communist legacy? Material culture symbolizes the legacy of the communist past. During the cold war, material culture could symbolically mark conflicts between the East and West. Lenin, Marx, the sickle and hammer illustrate key summarizing symbols of communist strength. In everyday life, household items and electronics were marveled as new and advanced in contrast to the cold war “other.” Today these symbols take form in tourist souvenirs, and museums. Making former symbols of Communist strength and advancement “kitschy” creates a mockery of the past, and are fodder for humor and “play,” much like Bahktin’s discussion of inverse of power. Chapter five “The Kitschification of Communist Material Culture: Politics Reinterpreted” looks at Pisti’s life experiences as a window into understanding how individuals make sense of the past and what the perception of the Communist era may carry for those who lived through it. I am using the term “kitschification” to describe the process in which material culture symbolically reflects a reinterpretation and disempowerment of past powers. This is important because it reflects a reinterpretation of former Cold War hostilities so that on the one hand it softens the past through humor it also effaces problematic complexity. Humor and play can serve to undermine these former tensions yet keep the memory of conflict alive. What does this say about memory and construction of identity in Post-socialist Hungary? Using Pisti’s story as a springboard to discuss Communist kitsch, this chapter explores the kitschification of communism as a way in which to reinvent the past in softer terms, much like in the US we perceive the 1950s era of bobby socks, poodle skirts, and soda fountains – and not segregation and mutual assured destruction. Communist nostalgia does not express a desire to return to the Communist system, but rather the kitschification of communism can sooth the societal discontent of both the past and the present. Though

Introduction

29

kitschification may simplify reality, enforce stereotypes or create a fantasy past, it serves as a trope to represent the complex nature of memory, agency, and identity highlighting generational differences and understandings of the past. Multiple understandings of Communist kitsch provide a kind of ‘everyday’ social commentary on post-socialist Hungary today. Generational divisions as well as complicated political tensions with the west (EU and America) and Russia provide fodder for comic release. For example, Chapter five starts with a comedy monologue from Fábry Sándor whose comedy aligns with a conservative party FIDESZ. Ironically FIDESZ stands for “Fiatal Demokraták Szövetsége” translating as “The alliance of young Democrats” because in 1988 the first members were students protesting the then communist regime, but today they are no longer young, and their national conservatism would be closer to our understanding of a conservative Republican party. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán representing the FIDESZ party won the popular vote and controls the parliament giving the party control to revise the constitution and initiate numerous laws (See Figure 6). When I asked my informants to describe Prime Minister Orbán several suggested he flip flopped, going from one extreme to another. Ella, a 56-year-old lawyer, simply put her two hands together and turned them from one side to another indicating Orbán’s changing views.

Figure 6

Completed in 1896, the Parliament Building in Budapest is the seat of the National Assembly of Hungary. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

30

Introduction

Amália, a 46-year-old female, works at a bookstore, and her neighbor, Pál, 62, has had on and off jobs for as long as I remember. They both feel Orbán appeals to people like themselves, a “kis emberek”, the little people. Both marvel at the renovations throughout the city, yet when I suggested that these were funded with EU money, Pál insisted, “it is our money,” and repeats Orbán’s campaign theme “Együtt az ország” roughly translating as “bringing the country together.” Fidesz main political rivals, MSzP (Magyar Szocialista Párt, Hungarian Socialist Party (Social democracy)), representing the former Communist Hungarian Socialist Worker’s party, asserts in the 2014 campaign however “Hungary is not just for them,” picturing an awkward grimacing portrait of Orbán. Though he is extremely popular, several of my informants expressed underlying fears that he is a “robber” and a “dictator.” Furthermore, these same critics of his regime, typically educated intellectuals, did not want me to record or identify them for fears of government retaliation. The Fidesz party, though lavishly using EU funds to dramatically renovate the country, has been critical of EU authority. Furthermore, the government has shown growing controversial ties to Russia, such as a Russian backed South Stream gas pipeline that would be jointly operated and owned by the Hungarian Development bank (MFB) and “Gazprom,” a Russian energy corporation. Though critical of the MszP communist party, Hungary’s government’s critique of EU and chummy interactions with Russia raise some concerns about returning ties with their old Russian allies. Though many of my respondents asserted “I am not political,” their practices and responses to the difficulties of present day society illustrate opinions of discontent. Chapter six, the final afterword, “Re-Interpretation of Social Change: ‘I am not political’ ” aims to understand societal change and identity construction to explore how Socialism and Capitalism frame an understanding of personal experience. How does the Socio-Cultural context frame their perceptions particularly in terms of space and time? How do individuals create a sense of self-identity via memory at the level of interaction or performance? How do symbolic cues inform historical and personal constructions of elderly identity? Looking at people who have experienced both Socialism and Capitalism in their lifetimes gives us a unique opportunity to understand macro-societal changes on the micro cultural level and to gain a cross-cultural understanding of the aging experience. My research suggests that people may create a fantasized representation of time and space that highlight a cultural ambivalence towards the past that sometimes results in special difficulties and potential maladaptive practices. Given this context, what insight can we learn about today’s society? This book aims to trace the way the communist past has become a part of people’s everyday practices today yet at the same time this past is now seen

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31

through the eyes of the present. The past takes on new meanings and interpretations as aspects of everyday life show the impact of the socialist past on present day society. I argue that the past is reinvented to both deal with the issues and problems of present day post-socialist Hungary, but also to deal with disempowering past Communist restrictions and problems, yet paradoxically nostalgia effaces the problematic past. Talking about the post-socialist transition not only gives insight into socialism, but also the impact of capitalism on individual experience. This research gives visceral insight into personal experiences, explores the impact of change through their everyday lives and practices as reflected in the use and perception of material culture, the implications of new forms of social obligation and gift giving on personal bonds, how food procurement strategies have adjusted to a market economy, how individuals reinvent folklore to regain a sense of past lost during the communist era, and how healthcare practices affect individual experience. Traces of communist past remain yet can take on new meanings and practices. The socio-economic frame of a society shapes experience in people’s everyday lives, hence when a society changes, it can alter people’s perceptions. Hungary experienced high inflation in the 1990s, joined the common EU market in 2004, suffered an economic and financial crisis in 2008, and experienced unprecedented migration in 2015 as people sought higher paying jobs in stronger EU countries. There has been growing nationalism, ethnic tensions, generational, and political divisions. In what ways does societal change carry aspects of the past? How is the past reworked and molded to fit the present? This inspired me to think about how people adjusted their perceptions and daily practices from living in a socialist society to a post-socialist society. Similarly, the focus of this book looks at how older Hungarians have managed to adjust to living in a Socialist society to a post-socialist globalized world. A persistent theme emerged suggesting a hybrid form of change in which an older generation adapted everyday practices to living in a socialist Hungary yet agents rework and adapt these practices to fit living in the spatial and temporal disjunctures of post-communist society. Ensuing resurgence of old cold war tensions made me reconsider the significance of generational differences and the importance of understanding the perceptions of those with first-hand experience of the socialist period and how they perceive their present day society.

Chapter 1

Globalized Bonds: Gift Exchange, Liminality, and Embodiment The exhaust fumes from the airplanes always makes me feel a bit nauseous, but it is also the exciting, nervous, and uncomfortable experience of traveling, in particular the difficulty of lugging an extra bag through security, that makes my jaw clench and the temples on my head tight and damp with sweat. Most of my belongings fit in the smaller carry on bag, but I am a courier of small gifts and packages for my immigrant friends’ families back in Hungary hence I am obligated to maneuver this heavy large bag from the US through airports, through customs, through crowds, on subways to their mother’s homes in Budapest. These gifts represent the lives and spirits of my immigrant friends as they strive to connect to loved ones far away with tangible packages. By delivering these packages, I symbolically represent the émigré child set in the context of globalization and a post-socialist society. Gift giving persists as a form of exchange that forms human bonds despite the rise of the capitalist economy and despite the conditions of post-socialist Hungary today. Gift exchange across borders during the communist era often illustrated socio-political divisions between émigrés who may have fled the country illegally as disszidált or defectors, as well as the few who had the privileged ability to cross borders without State restrictions. Szabella néni (b. 1925), a remarkable woman, who at the age of 85 started using a computer to continue her intellectual and scholarly writing, described her ability to move freely across borders during the communist era while colleagues in her Italian university were unable to return to Hungary as they had left the country illegally. Hers is a rare story, as few were able to obtain the illusive “blue” passport that allowed easy passage to countries outside the communist system. Several Hungarian intellectuals became political refugees following the 1956 revolution, and Szabella, who could easily return, was given the task to transport gifts for her émigré colleagues to their families back in Hungary. “My bags were full of oranges,” she laughed. Though each person gave her personal packages to transport they all asked her to carry oranges from Italy back to Hungary. Social ties between family members are often linked through systems of gift exchange through which, postsocialism, people recreate past practices to adapt to new social obligations and bonds. Though émigré family members existed during the Socialist era, with the collapse of communism communication links © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004328648_003

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across borders have become easier, and like the past, it is not so much the thing being given but rather a piece of the émigré experience given to family back home to maintain connections and social bonds, such as the Italian oranges from the Hungarian emigrants in Italy. Globalization bridges cultures together in a new way, yet past traditions of hospitality and gift exchange persist in a new form. Human bonds made through the exchange of packages existed during the socialist period and continues today postsocialism. Since 1994 I began going to Hungary forming connections with people defying fragmented boundaries. I befriended a group of Hungarian immigrants in Los Angeles – some staying illegally with long expired tourists visas feared that going home to Hungary would prevent their return to America. With each trip back to Hungary they would fill my suitcases with seemingly simple gifts of “American” chocolate, coffee and handwritten notes for their parents – in most cases this meant widowed senior women. As hospitality is very important in Hungary, a quick stop to drop off gifts was not possible – I had to sit, eat, and talk with these elderly women who often lived alone. I began to realize that these gifts were not simply forms of reciprocity between my US research group and me, but instead I had become a human conduit that stretched a bond between emigrant child and mother. On my return to the US, Hungarian mothers would ask me to bring gifts for their children – “Hungarian” chocolate, or simple foods and products not found in the US. As our Globalized world creates elastic boundaries, as familial bonds extend across continents, Anthropology can become a liminal threshold to create textured understandings of space and time as they connect to power, memory and identity. This chapter draws on several experiences with different people but focuses primarily on one illustrative family who I have befriended over the past 20 years: Lea (b. 1963) and her mother Albertina néni (b. 1939). Postsocialism allows for new understandings of time and space as illustrated through the practice of gift giving. As an anthropologist who travels back and forth from the US to Hungary on a fairly regular basis I became a physical stand in for the absent émigré child and an embodied conflation of time and space linking two people together. The point I want to make is that gift exchange creates social bonds and while during the socialist period it may have reflected the socio-political conditions of that time, today the practice persists, yet now reflects conditions related to a post-socialist society and themes of globalization. After presenting a descriptive representative example of a typical gift exchange for textual analysis, the following chapter addresses how trans global gift exchange (1) creates transnational social obligation (2) creates a liminal space that bonds people together, blurring understandings of the nation state, and (3) illustrates an embodiment of the social production of space much like time space compression.

34 1

Chapter 1

Background: Who are the Mothers Left Behind?

I started going to Hungary in 1994 to conduct person-centered interviews with Hungarian emigrants to the US and then return migrants in 1996. As I got to know Hungarians in America, they would entrust me with gifts to bring to their loved ones back in Hungary. As a consequence I gained rapport with the mothers of my informants still in Hungary. As this was an incidental consequence of my other research on migrants and constructions of identity, this chapter was based on field notes, informal interviews and participant observation. I am using pseudonyms that my informants selected for themselves. The women left behind are typically widows who live alone such as Albertina néni who lost her husband in 1986 due to a liver condition. Women tend to live until 80, outliving men by 6 years (OECD, 2013). Albertina, a petit woman with short straight peppered hair laughs easily in a quiet subdued way. Her daughter, much like her mother, has a petit frame, but in contrast has a strong forceful spirit as if she wants to defy her size with a “don’t mess with me” attitude. Due to Lea’s precarious US immigration status, she did not obtain the ability to travel back to Hungary until 2002 but Lea paid for her mother to come to the US three times. Since 2002 when Lea obtained US citizenship she has traveled back to Hungary several times. They maintain a strong bond in part by several hours of telephone chatter at least once a week. Though Lea is unable to see her mother on a regular basis, her younger brother who now lives in Germany is able to check in on her more often. Recently Lea paid for a computer, and asked her brother to set up “Skype” so they can now see each other when they talk, yet, Albertina néni, uncomfortable with computers, must rely on one of Lea’s friends to stop bye to help her mother turn on the “Skype.” Occasionally Albertina visits relatives who live in the outskirts of the city but they are not part of her daily social life. Today she lives alone in a two room flat in Budapest surviving on her deceased husband’s pension. 2

Descriptive Example as Text

I am the type of traveler that panics over the pre-travel plans – packing, organizing travel documents and paperwork, etc. Hence the night before my very early Monday morning flight when Lea called to say she was coming by to drop off some things to deliver, I was not pleased. Though I enjoy Lea’s visits and I enjoy delivering things to family back in Hungary, this late night visit simply added to my pre-travel stress. As is customary in Hungary, one cannot simply drop off the goods and run, as hospitality is an important Hungarian

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cultural practice which entails socializing for at least a couple of hours. Of course I could not say “no” as this practice for delivering things to Hungary has become so customary that I bought an especially large suitcase just for carrying gifts. Gabriella (b. 1961), whom I typically only see before I travel to Hungary, came by last week to drop off some cash and a letter for her father. I suggested she could mail me a check and I could take cash for her, but she insisted on coming in person despite the five-hour drive. “A nice small item, easy to pack,” I thought to myself. Aida, on behalf of her husband, Tom (b. 1955), came with some American chocolate she bought at the 99c Store, Victoria’s secret perfume, and a note from their daughter Bianca (b. 2001). The money and chocolate were for Tom’s mother who lives in a convalescent home, and the perfume and note were for his great Aunt. They came Saturday afternoon for lunch with time to chat as they traveled two hours in traffic just to get here. Everything fit into a medium sized gift bag. Now Lea, who gets here in 30 minutes from her apartment, arrives at 9 PM with two large bags, one for her mother and the other from her roommate Viktor to take to his mother. Viktor’s gift included a heavy-duty doorknob with lock, several DVDs he had burned (with detailed instructions on how to play them), an aluminum can of coffee, some photos and a letter. Lea brought a heavy cooking pot, among other things. But it was the pot that was reeling in my head to myself “oh no, how is this going to fit? Will my bag be too heavy?” Of course, I smiled politely, said “no problem” and offered her a glass of wine. I had hoped to be in bed by 10 PM for my early flight the next morning, but this was not going to happen. Once in Hungary I space out the visits throughout my time there. When I first started going to Hungary in 1993 people tended to drop bye for visits unannounced. Some reasoned that it was because not everyone had a telephone because in the state socialist system, it could take five years before one could get a phone installed. Now, most everyone has a home-line and or a cell phone, so I called Lea’s mother Albertina to set up a good time to meet. Most visits entail drinking something, usually coffee, and having something small to eat such as a bowl of soup or some homemade pastries. When I arrive at Albertina néni’s house, much to my embarrassment, she has set a lovely table in the middle of the room with her best crystal glasses, various cookies, fruit, pretzel sticks, and a variety of drinks: juice, wine, a sweet fruit aperitif. She wants to prepare a fish as well but I manage to convince her that this is more than enough. I know she lives on a limited income and I am touched by her generosity. In addition to dropping off the gifts from her daughter we have idle conversation to catch-up, I look at old photographs of Lea preserved in the glass cabinet, Albertina explains the context of the images and eventually talks

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Chapter 1

of her future plans to visit the US next year. It is a pleasant rather uneventful visit. Of course, even after visiting for several hours, she tries to insist I stay longer, that I should eat more, even though she has not eaten a thing herself. After two months, as I prepare to return to the US, Albertina calls to have me deliver some things for her daughter: a bag of Hungarian candy, a book of crossword puzzles, some dry instant soup, and twenty small cans of liver. These were not cans of expensive goose Pâté but rather the more inexpensive pork liver. I personally do not like liver but more importantly I was worried about carrying the small but collectively heavy cans. Little did I know, it was not the weight of the cans that would be a problem, but the US border control interrogated me on the type of meat they contained. Apparently you cannot transport certain meat items to the US even if they are in a can. The border control did not speak Hungarian, but was placated by my answer “pork” liver. 3 Analysis How has anthropology become a liminal threshold that creates new understandings of space and time? As an anthropologist who travels back and forth from the US to Hungary on a fairly regular basis I became a physical stand-in for the absent émigré child and an embodied conflation of time and space linking two people together through the process of gift exchange. The transportation of the gifts illustrates the conflation of space and time, as the child, represented in the gift, crosses spatial and cultural borders. The passing of gifts from the émigré child for me to deliver to their mothers, in addition to the hospitality given by these mothers to me, builds social bonds and obligations, but the gift itself also symbolically reflects the essence of the gift giver. An economic system within a particular society deals with the production, consumption, and distribution of goods and services, but it can also be a way to create social connections and influence. According to Marcel Mauss (1990[1967]) a gift economy is a type of economic system where there may be an overt or implied anticipation of a return gift. Mauss argues there are three obligations associated with the gift: to give, to receive, and to reciprocate (Mauss, 1990, p. 39) and in the process social bonds are created that can symbolically be linked to oneself. If one gives things and returns them, it is because one is giving and returning ‘respects’ – we still say ‘courtesies’. Yet it is also because by giving one is giving oneself, and if one gives oneself, it is because one ‘owes’ oneself – one’s person and one’s goods – to others. Mauss, 1990, p. 46

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The gift, the object given, represents the identity of the person giving the object. The object bears the identity of the gift giver, and hence by accepting this object, you are receiving the person. Mauss suggests that the people involved in a relationship of gift exchange are obligated to receive and give gifts in culturally appropriate ways. Gifts can entail what Mauss says is an obligation to accept. “By accepting it one knows that one is committing oneself. A gift is received ‘with a burden attached’ ” (Mauss, 1990, p. 41). Gift exchange can be competitive, antagonistic, or manipulated for personal gain, but as Mauss suggests gift exchange can be used as a means to build ties between individuals and groups of people. 4

Power of Giving: Traditions of Hospitality as a Form of Gift and Social Bonding

Hospitality and the sharing of food, particularly among elderly women, can be an expression of authority, satisfaction, and identity. There are generational differences in terms of hospitality, though the younger generation still practices hospitality; elderly women take it to another level, sometimes seeming to exceed their limited means. I went to Gabi néni’s house (b. 1931) with the intent to watch and film her making homemade rétes (strudel), but by the time I arrived she had already baked eight rétes so I would have something to eat when I came in. Luckily, she had two more to make, so I was able to watch the incredible process of stretching and pulling a small lump of dough into a paper thin sheet over the kitchen table to be filled with home preserved sour cherries and freshly ground poppy seeds, though she chastised me as she would have preferred that I sat in the living room to eat more rétes. Truth be told, she made so many because she knew when her grandchildren heard she was making rétes, they would come by for their share. Her ability to make these delicious pastries and her ability to share these with others filled her with much pride and satisfaction, but also created and maintained social ties with family. An elderly woman’s hospitality is an act of giving that can be a form of gift exchange and influence. Albertina néni’s generous sharing of food is culturally common in Hungary, and it expresses appreciation, perhaps for my delivering her daughter’s gift, but also obligation. Mauss says “It is in the nature of food to be shared out. Not to share it with others is ‘to kill its essence’, it is to destroy it both for oneself and for others. This is the interpretation, both materialist and idealist, that Brahmanism has given to charity and hospitality” (Mauss, 1990, p. 57). I have been invited to many peoples’ homes, and been served food before, but she went out of her way to present a beautiful array of foods

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­ resented in her best serving ware, and this to some extent embarrassed me p as I did not feel worthy, I now felt even more obligated to spend time with her, and now indebted. Not only does sharing food create a bond but there must be an element of trust, as anything can be put in the food. Mauss warns that an enemy could potentially poison: The gift is therefore at one and same time what should be done. What should be received, and yet what is dangerous to take. This is because the thing that is given itself forges a bilateral, irrevocable bond, above all when it consists of food. The recipient is dependent upon the anger of the donor, and each is even dependent on the other. Thus one must not eat in the home of one’s enemy. Mauss, 1990, p. 59

Food then, can create bonds, but also an element of faith, that the food shared will not harm, or on a more benign level, that it will taste good. Hospitality and sharing food is a gift that creates obligations, but can also give power to the giver. In Carole Counihan’s discussion of food she states “It occurs not through force and the ability to deny but through the obligations created by giving, and through the influence wielded in that act of giving” (Counihan, The Anthropology of Food and Body, 1999, p. 46). Having special skills of acquiring, preparing, and serving food, as well as the ability to create social obligations in the form of reciprocity can empower. This complements Sahlins understanding of the gift: The gift is alliance, solidarity, communion – in brief, peace, the great virtue that earlier philosophers, Hobbes notably, had discovered in the State. But the originality and the verity of Mauss was exactly that he refused the discourse in political terms. The first consent is not to authority or even to unity. It would be too literal an interpretation of the older contract theory to discover its verification in nascent institutions of chieftainship. The primitive analogue of social contract is not the State, but the gift. The gift is the primitive way of achieving the peace that in civil society is secured by the State. Sahlins, 1977, p. 84

Gifts are political, they are social, they are personal, but often the common element is the manner in which they build ties with people. Leah and Albertina néni are beholden to me for delivering the gift, Leah and Albertina are beholden

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to each other for exchanging gifts, and I am beholden to Albertina néni for her hospitality. The gift creates solidarity that can bring people together, particularly in times of strife. This was especially evident in the socialist period when women were perceived as “heroes” for their ability to find food in stores that were short on supplies, to endure long lines, to prepare food in tight spaces, and provide the appearance of abundance through generous hospitality (Ries, 1997). Dale Platz looks at Armenia during the Socialist period and how the urban environment became very industrialized and very populated leading to food and housing shortages. This led to relying on your relatives and neighbors to assist one another in acquiring goods and services. Networks of exchange developed between people – (I stand in line and shop for you, you bring me bread, etc.). One’s family, their kinship network became in integral part of their Armenian identity. They linked their reliance on family to traditional beliefs about kinship and to the traditional extended family. Hospitality and visiting emphasized time spent sharing food with friends, neighbors, and family and created social obligations through exchange (Platz, 2003, pp. 121–122; Patico, 2002). These were skills of women, and in many cases the retired women who had the extra time to assist in the acquisition and preparation of food. The market economy has lessened the value of networks of exchange. The younger generation today relies more on an understanding of a Capitalist society. A person born in 1989, as Communism fell in Hungary, would be 25 years old and these young adults rely on a capitalist way of exchange more than their grandparents’ socially responsible networks of exchange. Patico says “Consumer goods that were scarce and difficult to obtain in the Soviet era have become readily available to urban Russians with enough cash in hand. As a result, social networking activities that were key to the fulfillment of individual’s and families consumer needs and desires have become largely obsolete, especially those referred colloquially in Russian as blat: roughly, the use of social connections to obtain commodities, services or other privileges” (Patico, 2002, p. 346). Capitalist individualism, particularly in terms of acquiring food resources, is part of a newer way of doing things. Patico goes on to suggest: In post-socialist market environment, by contrast, cash – rather than contacts – is the asset most needed in order to gain access to goods and thus to maintain standards of living perceived as decent, respectable, and desirable. At the same time, certain forms of gift-giving as well as reciprocal exchanges of ‘favors of access’ continue to be integral to the conduct of everyday social life, characterizing friendly interpersonal relations as

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well as some institutional and private arenas where privileged access and variable qualities of service are at stake. Patico, 2002, p. 346

In Hungary, these interpersonal networks of exchange are still useful to elderly women who lack the cash to gain access to goods. Today in Hungary elderly women stick together through social obligations. The core of the gift is the element of sociability. Sahlins states: All the exchanges, that is to say, must bear in their material design some political burden of reconciliation. Or, as the Bushman said, “The worse thing is not giving presents. If people do not like each other but one gives a gift and the other must accept, this brings a peace between them. We give what we have. That is the way we live together.” And from this comes in turn all the basic principles of an economics properly anthropological [. . .] that every exchange, as it embodies some coefficient of sociability, cannot be understood in its material terms apart from its social terms. Sahlins, 1977, p. 95

“Bushman” refers to the Kung San of the Kalahari desert, a traditional hunter gatherer society in which gift exchange or reciprocity serves to facilitate their egalitarian society, but also distribute resources as a form of survival strategy (Lee, 2006). As Sahlin’s suggests, using this example, exchange is not simply about the material item exchanged but the social relations it creates. Caldwell observes: “Shoppers who purchase imported berries and mushrooms in gourmet supermarkets may purchase convenience and a sense of anonymity, but they also bypass the social networks and personal stories that are invested in jars of home-made preserves and pickles made by one’s friends and relatives” (Caldwell, 2002, p. 314). They visit one another and exchange food hence building forms of reciprocity sometimes necessary for those reliant on scarce resources. If I go to Ica néni’s house and not eat two or three servings she gets irritated, “Nem finom?” (“Don’t you like it? Is it not tasty?”) It is as if I am personally insulting her as her food represents who she is. On a typical visit I may bring flowers, and I may be asked to do a simple favor, such as buy a battery for her radio, or help her to bring up some potatoes from her storage container in the basement. Going to Ica néni’s house to eat soup, is more than the act of eating, it creates social obligations. To some extent my transporting Lea’s gift to her mother creates a social obligation to me, yet her mother Albertina néni’s extreme hospitality, not only “repaid” her debt to me but also now made me indebted to her.

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Gift Exchange Creates Transnational Social Obligation

Why not simply mail items back to Hungary? On the one hand, the mail system is unpredictable and things often get lost. I have mailed Christmas cards from the US that do not arrive until Spring. Gyuszi sent mangos to his mother that arrived in Hungary quickly but sat at the postal office for a month, and only when the fruit flies started to swirl around the package, did they bother to tell Ica néni to come down to pick it up as it had been sitting there for a month. The good thing is she actually received the package, for often packages never make it to their final destination and this may be why you cannot insure a package sent from the US to Hungary. On the other hand, delivering items through a third person is a way to link people together through social obligation and is part of a long-standing tradition of hospitality common during the socialist period, as Szabella néni’s story of transporting oranges from Italy indicates. The personal and cultural practice of gift exchange transcends boundaries and mirrors discussions of globalization. What is missing from arguments about the nation state is the role of personal cultural and economic forms of exchange, such as the gift exchange. Steger says “Pronouncing the rise of a borderless world, hyperglobalizers seek to convince the public that globalization inevitably involves the decline of bounded territory as a meaningful concept for understanding political and social change” (Steger, 2009, p. 63). Gift exchange is a practice that highlights borders, in that people may not easily be able to move across them due to visa or political constraints, but gift exchange also highlights a “borderless world” as symbolic representations of the individual can be transported across borders forming personal bonds despite geographic distances. Transmitting a gift from the US to Hungary creates social obligation blurring the boundaries of Nation State. From a Western perspective we may see a gift as a simple nice gesture, but in Marcel Mauss’ classic work, The Gift, he looks at how gift exchange can be used as means to build ties between individuals and groups of people. Gift exchange can be competitive, antagonistic, or manipulated for personal gain. He explores forms of reciprocity and gift exchange among small-scale societies to suggest there is a type of gift economy where there may be an explicit or implied expectation of a return gift. If someone accepts a gift he/she may be accepting an implied contract of obligation to reciprocate. Exchange links actors to each other and to objects. People involved in a relationship of gift exchange are obligated to receive and give gifts in culturally appropriate ways. Lea sends gifts to her mother in Hungary, and when I return to the US, Albertina néni sends gifts back to her

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daughter hence m ­ aintaining a connection through gift exchange. These gifts move across borders and create a feeling of social obligation. Though parent and child are separated in two different countries, the international gift exchange creates social obligation not only between the gift giver and recipient, but also the transporter of the gift because as I transport the gifts I become part of the gift exchange process. I must obey the cultural rules of social hospitality to spend time with the recipient and in the process, I feel a sense of moral duty to the parent I visit. When I visit Albertina néni to deliver Lea’s gifts, I know I will be spending several hours with her. When her daughter Lea wanted her mother to come to the US, I escorted Albertina néni to the travel agent and I wrote a letter of invitation to help her to obtain the air ticket and visa. In return, I receive the warmth of hospitality in a foreign country and as an Anthropologist I gain insight into Hungarian culture. I become the transport by which the social obligation takes place. 6

Gift Exchange Creates Liminal Space That Bonds

The gift from émigré child to mother at home creates social bonds across borders based on reciprocal exchange. Lea was part of my initial person-centered interviews exploring the migrant experience and constructions of identity. Albertina néni has influenced another project I am doing aimed at recording the life stories of elder women in order to understand the impact of change, to build on theories related to identity, time and space. Through the years I have established strong rapport and friendship with these women in part facilitated through these informal gift exchanges. The gift giving process as a part of reciprocal exchange may serve to strengthen existing relationships, such as the relationship between mother and child, but it may also serve to form new relationships, such as the tie between me as the anthropologist and my informants in both the US and Hungary. Lee Cronk in “Reciprocity and the Power of Giving” furthers Mauss’s argument to suggest that a gift may have “strings attached” that entail implied meanings (Cronk, 2006). There may be cultural “ethics” related to gift giving that are different in different societies – as illustrated in the article by Richard Lee “Christmas in the Kalahari” (Lee, 2006). The Hxaro exchange of the Kung San builds relationships. Though they pay attention to the type of items exchanged they do not strongly calculate the items’ values. The importance lies in continuing the exchange back and forth between people and no one should achieve greater status or ego because of it. Belittling the gift of the ox diminishes the expectation of return and enforces humility – so no one has greater status than another. As infa-

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mously quoted in Lee’s article, a Dobe Ju’hoansi man stated, “We don’t trade things we trade with people.” Cronk’s discussion of the Trobriand Islands further illustrates bonds created between peoples. Shell necklaces (soulava) are traded clockwise whereas the armbands (mwali) are traded counter clockwise. The value of the shell necklace is based on who owned the piece before (it has no monetary value) and the exchange or repayment may take months or years. The point is to build connections with your trade partners. Being the person who transports the goods I occupy a liminal space that connects me to the bond between mother and émigré child. As a go-between mother and child in a sense I occupy the threshold that links the two and create bonds. Evoking Victor Turner’s concept of liminality and communitas helps explain the in-between state that I feel as I transport goods from child to mother (Turner, 2008). Van Gennep has shown that all rites of passage or “transition” are marked by three phases: separation, margin (or limen, signifying “threshold in Latin), and aggregation. The first phase (of separation) comprises symbolic behavior signifying the detachment of the individual or group either from an earlier fixed point in the social structure, from a set of cultural conditions (a “state”), or from both. During the intervening “liminal” period, the characteristics of the ritual subject (the “passenger”) are ambiguous; he passes through a cultural realm that has few or none of the attributes of the past or coming state. In the third phase (reaggregation or reincorporation), the passage is consummated. The ritual subject, individual or corporate, is in a relatively stable state once more, and by virtue of this, has rights and obligations vis-à-vis others of a clearly defined and “structural” type; he is expected to behave in accordance with certain customary norms and ethical standards binding on incumbents of social position in a system of such positions. Turner, 2008, p. 327

I am the “passenger” the go-between that links the two together, and in the transformative process must learn to conform to the obligations in “accordance with certain customary norms” (Turner, 2008, p. 327). Victor Turner emphasizes the connection of rites of passage with society itself. He conducted fieldwork in central Africa where at puberty both men and women undergo ritual activities in order to mark their initiation into adulthood. Turner believed these rites of passage negate normal rules and the social hierarchy of society and emphasize instead the bonds between people, which enable society to exist. He called this “communitas” – or anti-structure. When in this liminal phase, Turner said the

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world appears to be ambiguous – you are neither here nor there. Participants are betwixt and between their former position and the new position in which they are moving. It is chaotic – the world you knew is destroyed. The phase is often accompanied by either the suspension, or reversal, of everyday social values and there is a sense of danger being enacted. Though I would not say that I experience any real danger while traveling between the US and Hungary, the airport travel experience can be very stressful. Not only do I have pre-travel tensions, but occasionally experience uncomfortable moments during the process of traveling. The seats are too small, a baby wails throughout the flight, the airplane food upsets my stomach, my bags are sometimes delayed or lost, and I experience jet lag. And as mentioned earlier, I was hassled by the security guards at the airport over a bag of canned pork liver. As I leave the US I shed my comfortable identity as American to become the foreigner, or as the Hungarians put it, külföldi, the person not from here, or stranger. “Liminal entities are neither here nor there; they are betwixt and between the positions assigned and arrayed by the law, custom, concentration, and ceremonial. As such; their ambiguous and indeterminate attributes are expressed by a rich variety of symbols in the many societies that ritualize social and cultural transitions” (Turner, 2008, p. 327). Once going through the liminal phase, however, the passenger assumes a new identity as part of the community, what Turner refers to as “communitas (328).” While in Hungary I am a different person as the language and cultural differences transform my behavior and way of thinking. As an outsider I appreciate the offer of hospitality and bonding. People who share the experience of the rite of passage experience “communitas” hence connecting individuals with society. In the context of the gift exchange, a sense of communal bonding occurs from the gift sender (Lea), the gift bearer (me the anthropologist in between), and gift recipient (Albertina Néni), yet despite these social connections that stretch across physical borders, a form of “communitas” is established creating new social identities and bonds. 7

Embodying the Liminal Threshold of Time and Space

As I embody the émigré child I participate in conflation of time and space that allows a communal bond despite the distance between the US and Hungary. Connecting people through gift exchange creates shared identity despite distant borders. Collective identity can be linked to locality in terms of community or society, yet the spatial boundaries are not necessarily clear. A community is often understood as entailing “a sense of common identity and characteristics” and as describing existing or alternative sets of relationships

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(Williams, 1985, pp. 75–76). Anthropologists have often determined communities to be bounded sets of people whose beliefs, religions, customs, language, culture, etc. could be spatially outlined by the edges of the village, by the outlines on a map. However, as research has shifted to urban environments where sub-communities need to be creatively defined, and as transmigrants maintain ties between two or more places, it has been increasingly difficult to draw clear outlines. Consequently, even though a community may not have clear spatial boundaries, common ties in terms of personal, cultural, or historical connections can create a collective identity void of concrete boundaries. Localities and communities are fluid, contradictory, and conflicting (Revill, 1993, p. 120). Gift exchange can be part of the production of space. Lefebvre suggests the production of space gives understanding to the everyday experience of space. He suggests there are three primary concepts in the production of space: 1) spatial practice or perceived space, 2) representations of space or conceived space, and 3) representational or lived space (Lefebvre, 1991, pp. 38–39). He wants to breakaway from binary theories to positional categories, in order to emphasize the contradictions in space (39). Community needs to be understood as members and outsiders perceive it, as maps, policies, scientists and politics represent it and as lived space associates it with signs and symbols. Exchanging gifts is part of the lived space as it symbolizes a connection with others. Transporting gifts between Hungary and the US symbolically represents a conflation of time and space that connects people who live in different countries. David Harvey’s time-space compression gives understanding to this process of bonding that defies borders. Distance is no longer significant with rapid plane travel. Technologies give the illusion of compressed time and space. The postmodern condition impacts everyday life and creates the possibility for ties that transcend space and time (Harvey, 1989). Globalization puts strains on the Nation State as boundaries between countries become blurred. Though parent and child may communicate long distance by phone, Internet, or mail, the physical transportation of gifts via the air flight and personal delivery creates a visceral connection between peoples. 8

Gift Exchange Highlights an Embodiment of the Social Production of Space

The transportation of gifts across borders highlights a social production of space bounded by a connection of people where I embody the absent child. The gift I carry represents the identity of the émigré child. Marcel Mauss ­suggests that the gift, the object given, bears the identity of the giver. It is a

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reflection of the person giving the object. My transnational deliveries allow me to embody the absent child. To embody something is to give a physical form to the intangible. Phenomenology, a philosophical inquiry of the perceived conscious experience rather than how things actually are, the objectively real, is one way to explain this transnational embodiment. Mauss further suggests that the recipient receives the gift, but also receives the gift giver. The object bears the identity of the gift giver, and hence by accepting this object, you are receiving the person. The mother accepts the gift and therefore receives her child. However, the child is absent, hence she receives me as a representation of the émigré child. As the transporter of the gifts I embody the absent child. As a link between child and mother I bring “sight” – the ability to see the distant child. The mother left behind is unable to see an absent émigré child whose appearance may change over the months and perhaps years. Often I am asked to transport photographs or pictures. For Viktor’s mother I help to set up equipment and show a video so his mother can “see” him. In the case of Lea and her mother, her son set up a computer and helps her to view photographs that Lea sends her. More recently the son has helped her Skype with Lea so they can see one another while they chat. In many cases however, elderly women don’t have computers and have difficulty understanding how they work. On my visits however I am a living breathing person she can see rather than a distant image on a computer or a photograph. There is a difference between a living being in front of you and an image, much like the difference between live theater and an image on a movie screen. Both are performances, but there is a more connective experience when there is someone in front of you who you can actually see and potentially touch. I connect the mother to child through “sound” as she is able to hear what I say. Though often mothers talk to their children with the phone, I bring a personal voice. Often my visits are filled with questions about the child in the US. Communicating in person creates a more visceral experience than communicating by phone or Internet. Often the conversation turns to the absent child, what they are doing, to share common stories. Distance denies the ability to touch. Letters, or objects that are given are something that touches the owner and hand delivered they have more meaning. One can buy chocolate and coffee in Hungary, but it is not the same as the chocolate and coffee that the child sent as it represents his or her identity far in the United States. The absentee child can’t taste or smell the mother’s cooking, but in some respects their hospitality allows me to be a stand-in on their behalf. In addition food is transported back and forth creating a tangible bond through taste and consumption.

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9 Conclusion Post-socialist society allows for a liminal threshold that creates new understandings of space and time. As an anthropologist who travels back and forth from the US to Hungary on a fairly regular basis I became a physical stand in for the absent émigré child and an embodied conflation of time and space linking two people together. Transmitting a gift from the US to Hungary creates social obligation. Though parent and child are in two separate countries, the international gift exchange creates social obligation not only between the gift giver and recipient, but also the transporter of the gift. The gift giving process as a part of reciprocal exchange may serve to strengthen existing relationships, such as the relationship between mother and child, but it may also serve to form new relationships, such as the tie between me as the anthropologist and my informants in both the US and Hungary. As a go-between mother and child in a sense I occupy the threshold that links the two and create bonds, and in the context of the gift exchange, a sense of communal bonding occurs between gift sender, gift recipient, and gift bearer. The gift I carry represents the identity of the émigré child, and as the transporter of this gift I embody the absent child. By embodying the émigré child I participate in a conflation of time and space that allows a communal bond despite the distance between the US and Hungary. Connecting people through gift exchange creates a shared identity despite distant borders. Gift exchange can be part of the production of space and transporting gifts between Hungary and the US symbolically represents a conflation of time and space that connects people who live in different countries. A simple gesture of transporting simple items creates important ties for a mother at home, for the émigré child, and the anthropologist. The practice of gift giving, hospitality, and social obligations prevalent during the Socialist area as strategies to obtain limited goods and form personal bonds carries over to post-socialist Hungary impacted now by globalization. The following chapter explores this theme more thoroughly through the perspective of food procurement strategies.

Chapter 2

Renegotiating Procurement Strategies: Elderly Women Applying Procurement Strategies of the Socialist Era to the Post-Socialist Condition In the hot summertime the windows of every apartment are left open in hopes of a cool and soothing breeze. Long white lacy curtains furl in and outward with each passing gust. It is on these days especially that one feels the communal nature of the Sunday brunch. Familiar smells of húsleves (a consommé meat soup served with noodles and vegetables) and rántott hús (thin fried meat cutlets) waft through the air reminding everyone of the familiar meal they will soon be eating. At noon the radios blare the state run radio program entitled “Music for a good lunch” ( Jó ebédhez szól a nóta) that starts with a recording of the noon bells clanging and fills an hour with traditional Hungarian songs to accompany the afternoon family meal. Food acquisition and preparation is an everyday practice that expresses appropriate norms and behaviors. I jokingly nicknamed Ica néni the “Leves Király” (The soup King) as she makes amazing soups. Húsleves (meat soup), a clear soup made from beef or poultry but more commonly chicken, can be eaten alone or as a first course to a meal. The women of my study developed an understanding of the world around them within a Socialist society but now this frame of reference used to define one’s self is gone. New societal issues arise in post-socialist societies that influence their way of being and their understanding of themselves. In post-socialist Hungary Ica néni’s soup making provides a lens in which to view the impact of societal changes for elderly women as they renegotiate their food procurement strategies. I first met Ica néni in 1993 and make regular hungry visits to her house at least once a year hoping to be served her delicious soup. Ica néni, born in 1933, is a widowed retired pensioner living in post-socialist Hungary. Though from the countryside (50 miles from the Romanian border), she is not from a peasant family and though defining class status is complicated in Hungary, her background reflects a small town country-side experience (provincial middle to lower class). Her father was a carpenter that built frames for roofs. She referred to her mother as a “kalapos kisasszony” (a young lady or miss who wore hats) suggesting to me she was more than a simple peasant. Ica néni had three sisters and two brothers. Being the youngest daughter she was pampered as her older sisters assisted their mother with domestic chores such as food preparation, cleaning, and feeding the chickens. She proudly stated that her © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004328648_004

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only job consisted of filling her father’s pipe when he got home. Despite living in a small village house, Jonathan apple trees, a small vegetable garden, and a few chickens filled the yard. Still, she did not come from a wealthy family, and the depression and war years, certainly put a strain on their resources. To this day she associates certain foods with the struggles her family had in her youth such as cheap brown bread, meals without meat, and eating plain boiled potatoes for dinner. In 1953 Ica néni took the bold move to immigrate to Budapest alone, where she later met and married her husband (Gyuszi bácsi) in 1955 and had a son (Gyuszi) shortly before the 1956 revolution. She lived with her parents-in-law for five years before being able to move into a separate apartment in the same building. In 1966 their building was torn down to build a hospital forcing her parents-in-law to move to an older building in the 8th district while she moved to newly built communist style panel apartments in the 22nd district (See Figure 7). Her mother-in-law had been the primary cook and taught her to prepare the dishes that Gysuzi liked. Ica néni retained, however, a taste for dishes she loved in her youth, such as her favorite small tightly rolled stuffed cabbage in a red sauce (See Figure 8). Now separated from her natal family and mother-in-law, she became the primary cook in the

Figure 7

Ica’s Soviet style apartment consisted of 43 square meters for a family of three; it had central heating, one small bedroom, living room, and petit kitchen. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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Figure 8

Chapter 2

Ica makes her favorite dish: stuffed cabbage. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

­ ousehold. Lacking a secondary education she always held low skilled jobs such h as cleaning a hospital, and school, or assembling plastic parts at home. Her only son emigrated to the United States in 1980 and became part of my research on Hungarian migrants in 1993 (Pope Fischer, 2003; Pope Fischer, 2005). Her marriage dissolved and she lived alone since 1985, eventually becoming a widow in 2004. After 1989 with the introduction of a market economy, residents, such as Ica néni, were allowed the option of purchasing their state owned apartments for a modest price. With centralized heating, she worries about paying the bills in the Winter especially as she cannot control the cost. She struggles to make due on a limited pension and relies on social services from the government to help sustain her. Many widowed pensioner women in Hungary have experienced losses of social support during the post-socialist period, as a result Ica néni nervously makes every effort to conserve. Over the years I began to form a special bond with Ica néni and she kindly welcomed me into her family. She allowed me to prepare and share meals with her allowing me the unique and special opportunity to gain first hand experience of everyday life. With Ica néni I found it better to actually go shopping, to actually do cooking, than to sit down and talk about it. When I tried more formal interview techniques with her, she would simply smile. She could not

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explain how to cook because she relied more on instinct and constant tasting therefore she had to show me. I wrote summary field notes based on these experiences. Because of my special connection to Ica néni, and in part due to a desire to pay homage to her, I have chosen my interactions with her as focal points for discussion. Ica néni’s story illustrates how senior women use tactical coping mechanisms learned during the socialist era to adapt to new economic uncertainties. Women’s food preparation is an ordinary practice helpful for understanding the tactics agents’ use within the confines of societal cultural strategies (de Certeau, Luce, & Mayol, 1998, pp. 151–169). This chapter looks at the transforming nature of women’s resourcefulness initially developed in response to socialist material shortages and now in response to eroding financial means. The post-socialist restructuring creates economic difficulties for some, particularly elderly pensioner women, as they face declining resources and increasing cost. I use brief descriptions from Ica néni’s food preparation perspective as a springboard for discussion of personal everyday life. This chapter makes two main points – first, to look at cooking practices developed during the socialist era that carry over and adapt to the post-socialist condition; and second, to illustrate how this affects gender roles and agency of elderly Hungarian women. 1

Socialist Era Culture Applied to the Post-Socialist Condition

One day while helping Ica néni in the kitchen, I saw her open her refrigerator to see she had packed it so full with food that the small light bulb in the back could not shine through. With a mischievous smile she proudly stated where she got the food. The neighbor upstairs brought the grapes from her weekend property outside Budapest. The kefir yoghurt she took from her cleaning job at an elementary school. The children would often leave some food untouched and she would stick it in her apron pocket when she cleaned the room. The state run center that allocates social services (Házi Gondozás) had given her the small foil wrapped triangular slices of processed cheese and the box of grape juice. Her son had brought her some Hershey chocolate bars from America a year ago. There were eggs, milk, Rama margarine and soda water she had bought cheaply at Tesco supermarket and lugged across town by bus and foot. She had wedged in the back a box of small metal capsules used to make seltzer water, something she had not done for years but kept on hand just in case. A small portion of unwrapped goose liver I had bought her as a gift two weeks ago had shriveled and dried as she only allowed herself a small portion each day. Of course prominently taking space on the middle shelf sat a huge

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pot of soup. Some of the food looked spoiled but she refused to throw it out as she still intended to eat it and she did not want to waste anything. Ica néni’s refrigerator illustrates the strategic ways she obtained food. During the socialist era, people needed to find innovative ways of obtaining food and the Socialist period continues to impact cultural experiences today but it is important to understand both the particular Hungarian context as well as commonalities among former communist countries. 1.1 Socialist Era Culture Though there were various levels of control, communist rule in Hungary lasted from 1948 to 1989. After a 1956 revolution against communist occupation Hungary was treated with “kid gloves.” Government restrictions were loosened leading to “Goulash Communism” from the mid 1960s to mid 1970s. In the later period preceding the collapse of communism Hungary was at a political and economic standstill. During this stagnation period the socialists’ ability to maintain control of distribution weakened. The economy did well in part due to an underground second economy but, as was typical in Communist societies, the variety and availability of goods was limited (Andorka & Harscsa, 1999; Szakály, 1994; Ehrlich & Révész, 1995; Szelényi, 1988). This is the period of Ica néni’s youth through adulthood (12–56 years of age). In theory Communism aimed to create an equal society by eliminating private ownership of property and Socialism was a way to attain the communist utopian goal of an equal society. Though each post-socialist country experienced communism differently, common themes and practices create shared understandings. There tended to be a dysfunctional economic structure that impacted people’s daily experiences. Economic growth was based on state quotas set by the government who expected industry to produce an amount determined by the state rather than consumer demand. The government put more emphasis on heavy industry to create more jobs to satisfy the goal of employment for all citizens. State control also tried to rid any form of market economy. Socialist society’s power lay in the ability to redistribute goods; hence there was a need to control resistance if the system were to work. The aim was to maintain single party control. (Verdery, 1996; Stark & Bruszt, 1999). The States power lay in its ability to control the means of production, however, the State was unable to control its citizens’ ability to resist and sabotage. State quotas were unmet due to material shortages that led to hoarding materials and unauthorized systems of exchange. State quotas did not meet consumer demands hence forcing them to obtain goods through alternative means. The hoarding of labor to meet state requirements contributed to a poor work ethic. The States attempt to maintain control led to surveillance and censorship. The private sphere

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­ rovided a venue for a personal voice yet it too was hindered by surveillance p by one’s employer, or even closer to home, by one’s neighbor (Verdery, 1996; Stark & Bruszt, 1999). The following sketches skills adapted in response to this socialist condition. 1.2 Socialist Skills: Strategies to Obtain Limited Goods In the 1980s Ica néni would sometimes take the excess fruit from the family weekend property to sell on the street. She also traveled to Turkey several times and smuggled back some gold jewelry she had sewn into the hem of a coat. This small-scale second economy though technically not legal was so commonplace that no one passed judgment. The food she took from her work would not be seen as a crime. She would often tell me, “it is not a sin to pick a flower” (even if it came from the neighbor’s yard). Ica néni’s case shows that limited goods might be obtained through questionable means. Individuals make sense of and tactically maneuver within the restrictions of a socialist society such as food shortages. People in the food industry often had to improvise and develop creative coping mechanisms due to the shortages of supplies (Buechler & Buechler, 2005, p. 263). In terms of food acquisition consumers often found shortages of goods in stores and, when important items became available there might be long lines to obtain them. People had to develop creative ways to obtain a scarcity of supplies (Caldwell, 2004; Clarke, 2002; Osokina, 2001; Patico, 2002). People developed strategies to deal with these restrictions via networks of exchange including under the table transactions, personal favors, reciprocity, and hoarding. Developing informal “under the table” networks of exchange was an important trait during the socialist period. Caldwell found, Russians who wanted to set themselves apart from their neighbors resorted to channels and strategies that existed outside the officially legal realm. Exchange transactions through extensive informal networks thus became another important means to access for both everyday necessities and periodic luxuries, while black market traders who sold goods that had been smuggled across the borders or traded from foreigners offered another avenue for creative consumption. Caldwell, 2002, p. 299

To some extent these “illegal” transactions were not necessarily seen as crimes as they were part of people’s daily strategies to obtain limited resources (Wedel, 2001). In Russian “blat” was, “roughly, the use of social connections to obtain commodities, services or other privileges” (Patico, Chocolate and Cognac,

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2002, p. 346). In Hungarian the term “protekció” plays a role in the distribution of goods through personal influence and favors as it refers to under the table payments or “tips” to influence a decision or service. It relates to the ability to have the connections or ability to obtain resources that may or may not be technically legal (Lampland, 1995, p. 262; Bell, 1984, p. 150). During the socialist period, Ica néni’s family obtained their first TV by “tipping” the salesman to put one aside for them, and as they did not have a phone, for several weeks thereafter they would check in to see if they could pick up their TV. Daily practices to procure food during the Socialist period often relied on social networks of exchange and reciprocity. People needed networks of exchange in a society that created obstacles and scarcities making it normal for consumer practices to be a collective familiar experience. Ica néni received grapes from her neighbor, but Ica néni might on another day give her something else, such as one of those extra kefir or cheese. Word of mouth and social connections became important techniques for the acquisition of goods. If one person needed a particular item, a friend or relative might know someone who had it (Caldwell, 2002, p. 299). Hoarding goods was one strategy to deal with limited goods. People would stock up on goods in case supplies would be limited later, and perhaps use as barter for exchange with someone else. “The unpredictability of market supplies and episodic scarcities prompted shoppers to buy up goods when they were available and store them for the future” (Caldwell, 2002, p. 299). These goods might be traded for other needed resources. Hoarded items provided a security net and could be used to form connections with others. No wonder Ica néni feared throwing out food; no wonder she filled her pantry with multiple packages of soap, flour and sugar. 2

Post-Socialist Application of Socialist Era Culture

I took Ica néni shopping to buy the ingredients for the soup the Friday before the Sunday meal. She complements me for knowing where to find the least expensive carrots, “Ügyes vagy” (“How clever/skillful you are”). She sees a Savoy cabbage leaf on the floor and snatches it up. She gives me a guilty but satisfied smile. She explains, why buy a whole cabbage when you need just one leaf to season the soup. Her son hates when she scrounges for food like that or asks a vendor for the throw away vegetables for free. He would rather pay for these items. Since emigrating in 1980 he sends her American money. Still, living on a limited pension, she relishes in her ability to get food for free, such as apples from the neighbor’s yard or the free food she collects from work. Later

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we found that she stashes the American money in a drawer unspent. She reasons she will use it in an emergency. Today we are buying the ingredients for soup and I will let her get away with her free cabbage leaves – her son does not need to know. Ica néni’s shopping techniques indicate the difficulties elderly women face in post-socialist Hungary. Though the period from 1989, often referred to as “the transition,” has not necessarily been a clean transition to Capitalism because many characteristics of the old socialist system adapt and change to the new market economy. Some commonalities in post-socialist societies include a rise in disparities between people and feelings of disillusionment (FEANTSA, 2003; Kolosi & Sagi, 1997; Szántó & Tóka, 1992; Szalai, 1992). 2.1 Post-Socialist Era Culture Post-socialist society presents new challenges for Hungary’s elderly. With low birth rates and extended life spans, Hungary is an aging society (Velkoff, 1992). Wolf suggests as they reach old age, “they have fewer living children, on average, than do preceding elderly cohorts; with relatively few children, the traditional norm of providing support for one’s older parents is strained and cannot be fulfilled, and this leads to an increased incidence of independent or isolated living patterns for the elderly” (Wolf, 1988, p. 316). As women’s life expectancy exceeds men’s (75.6 compared to 67.1), most of these elderly living alone are women (Wolf, 1988, p. 317; Rurik & Antal, 2003). These women outlive their husbands and receive a smaller pension because they tend to work less than men during their adult lives. The income of pensioners in the early part of the transition stabilized yet decreased later leading Verhoven et al. to contend that retired people are part of the “losers” of the transition (Verhoven, Jansen, & Dessens, 2009, pp. 112–113). Social inequality has been particularly difficult for women and the elderly (Fodor, Sata, & Toth, 2006). In a study of elderly Hungarians nutritional habits, most prepared meals at home with the biggest meal at lunchtime. Their diets tended to be high in salt and many (44%) used lard in their cooking. They had irregular consumption patterns: low meat intake and not enough fruits, vegetables, and dairy (Rurik & Antal, 2003). Kapitány and Kapitány found that the elderly and lower class preferred meat soup (húsleves), suggesting that it can be a generational and class marker (Kapitány & Kapitány, 1999). Hence a woman of Ica néni’s age, generation, class, and gender should know how to make it. The high rate of inflation in the 1990s, the economic struggles following 2008, coupled with unemployment, strongly affected elderly women (Worldwide Inflation Data, 2016). The socialist state no longer provides employment and new foreign capital often requires new skills such as English and computer

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technology. Those able to adapt to the market economy are doing well, however, elderly pensioners are often left behind. Pensioners live on a limited income and many fear poverty (Kolosi & Sagi, 1997; Szántó & Tóka, 1992; Szalai, 1992). Under the one party state system, salaries were established on an extremely low level, but the paternalistic socialist state added many social benefits to them: cheap rent; state-subsidized transportation, sport and cultural services, utility and food prices, even haircuts; low-interest loans; free health care; and drugs. All these have gone. Within our institutional care of the elderly there is, however, a system of providing one free meal a day, subsidized by the local government for those retired people whose pension is very low and who are not in social homes. Many aged people live on the cheapest food that is available. One wonders if such poverty can ever be accepted and tolerated with dignity. Blasszauer, 1994, p. 15

Gradually the perks of the state socialist system have dwindled and the government can no longer afford to have a school in every village, or to have a post office in every neighborhood, or to provide housing for everyone. The free public hospitals are full and consist of low paid doctors still expecting “tips” from patients. The state does not subsidize the price of food, but rather a free market economy based on supply and demand. And though the social services office (Házi Gondozás) provides some food for lower income seniors, for the most part, they must survive on what food they can afford or obtain. Elderly women struggle to live on a small income in this new more expensive market economy. Meat can be expensive however Ica néni can afford to buy poultry backbones from the butcher to make soup and she will take advantage of a free cabbage leaf found on the floor. Her food preparation takes on new challenges and difficulties presented by a post-socialist society. Coping strategies she learned during the socialist period prove useful during the postsocialist period. 2.2 Post-Socialist Skills Ica néni asked me to bring some chicken parts (csirke aprólék) for the soup and I thought that would include the skin and chicken head. When she saw what I brought she shook her head and said only the stray dogs outside would eat this. I felt very small and foolish at that point. On another occasion I brought a turkey backbone but Ica néni said it was too small. She shook her head as she looked at the bone and kept repeating, “This is not a problem. It is no trouble” (“Nem baj. Nem baj”). The fact that she mentioned the small size several times

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followed by a “Nem baj” means it did matter. This polite way of complaining let me know I had bought the wrong backbone. The knowledge of knowing appropriate ingredients for cooking gives the cook a form of authority. Though the soup consisted of the cheapest of ingredients (left over chicken scraps, turkey backbones, scrounged for vegetables), her ability to prepare it made Ica néni proud and when I once told her she was the “soup king” she was so pleased that the nickname stuck. She made a huge pot on the weekend and if anyone stopped bye for a visit during the week she quickly offered it. The valuable ability to be hospitable creates reciprocal bonds and allies particularly for those in need of a favor or assistance from others. Ica néni has the knowledge and skill for obtaining appropriate yet inexpensive soup ingredients. In the post-socialist era the markets sell more varieties of goods than ever before; unfortunately, with a limited pension Ica néni does not have enough money to buy them. Tesco, a large British owned market, sells everything from clothing, and electronics, but especially lured people like Ica néni in because of its inexpensive bread and free food samples. During the Socialist era the state played a role in the shortage of material goods and now in the post-socialist era elderly pensioner women simply cannot afford to buy the available resources. With marketization buying inexpensive yet quality goods creates challenges with many obstacles (Patico, Chocolate and Cognac, 2002, p. 345). Today one needs to have the ingenuity to make use of what you have, to be aggressive, strong, persistent, and to develop social networks. 2.2.1 Post-Socialist Strategies: No Waste, Forcefulness, and Persistence The ability to make due with limited resources in the Socialist era now becomes a valuable strategy during the post-socialist era when many simply cannot afford to waste. Ries notes that Russians had an unspoken frugality embodied in everyday labor (Ries, Potato Ontology, 2009, p. 186) and a science of frugality linked to memories of wartime survival strategies (2009, 195). She described how one man carefully peeled a potato so as not to waste any part of it. Many lower income women in Hungary also have prudent ways of preserving and extending supplies. Many Hungarians grow fruit trees in their yards or weekend properties and rarely does the fruit go to waste. They can eat the fruit fresh or cook it into jam or syrups for later use, exchange, or sale. They can exchange excess fruit with friends and relatives, or for those really resourceful, they sell it on the street. Rotten fruit can be fermented into homemade brandy (házi pálinka). Having assisted various women in the labor-intensive production of tomato sauce and jam, I did not anticipate that I would take the time to make my own. I bought some pickles and jam from the store only

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to have Ica néni criticize me for the amount I paid, but also that I wanted to throw out the empty jars as these could be filled again with homemade jam or pickles. Though preparing fruit for canning or for brewing entails a lot of work, it allows people to preserve valuable resources and it is cheaper for those who make it for themselves. Those on limited incomes need physical strength to transport resources that may be cheaper if bought in bulk, and if bought further away. Most people go shopping everyday and the average pensioner travels by foot, bus, metro, and/or streetcar. I see women carrying huge bags or baskets filled with heavy weighing items such as potatoes and apples. Sometimes people travel to their weekend properties and cart home bags of fruit from their trees. Not only may they have to walk some distance to the bus stop but also they must manage these heavy and bulky bags on a crammed bus. The younger generation is more accustomed to the capitalist form of shopping: you go to a large market once a week, load your shopping cart with goods and then pack them in your car. Though Western style supermarkets fill the city these stores tend to be more expensive. Considering the value of a good deal, seniors prefer to shop at the less expensive stores and may even travel a great distance in order to get a better price. Huge new discount markets, such as Tesco, have been built in the outskirts of Budapest. These hypermarkets offer less expensive basic foods such as bread, eggs, and milk. Seniors are willing to spend the time and effort despite enduring crowded mass transportation. Shear aggressiveness allows individuals to gain the resources they need. Many times I have been physically pushed aside as an elderly woman bustled her way toward a vendor (See also Caldwell 2002, 299). Typically this occurs when there is an especially good price on an item and a crowd has gathered. As limited goods do sell out, one may need to be aggressive in order to get anything at all. The elderly, used to the Socialist era of limited resources, are willing to use force to get what they need. Persistence is a virtue in a society filled with the residue of Socialist era bureaucratic inadequacies. Getting official paper work done often involves long waits, long lines, lots of paperwork, misinformation, and in some cases “tips” (protekció). People learned to continue steadily despite problems or obstacles in the Socialist era because eventually they may succeed. In the post-socialist era the idea of “customer service” is taking a while to catch on. McDonalds must train their staff to be friendly (Caldwell, 2005). Storekeepers are not necessarily helpful leading to bureaucratic-type frustrations. If you need a particular item and have a limited amount to spend you can check around. This can involve time and travel because you may have to check several stores to find what you need. Persistence is a valuable trait.

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2.2.2 Post-Socialist Strategies: Social Networks Ica néni proudly posed for a photograph in a fur coat she had bargained for from a neighbor. When she needed some plumbing work done she used the same person her neighbors used. Her son’s long time friend Ádám, who studied house painting in the state trade school, painted her apartment. He has many elderly women as his clients because he is sensitive and offers them a good price. He obtained all his clients through word of mouth. Ica néni told me where to buy chicken and backbones for soup. When she shops she tends to go back to her favorite vendors, as she trusts their prices and quality of merchandise. With some there may be idle gossip and chitchat. Ica néni’s illustration indicates that those with limited means must resort to social networks for assistance. In addition there is a feeling of familiarity and trust. Social networks developed in response to shortages of goods in the Socialist period and these networks of exchange continue today in the postsocialist period (See Caldwell, 2002, 299). Neighbors still share foods grown on their weekend properties. When someone needs an item or a resource one asks his or her family, friends, or neighbors for advice. People will share information about where to buy the least expensive goods or who provides the best service. Forming social networks with vendors is an important skill for those with limited resources in the new market economy. Caldwell states, Informal transactions depended on the integrity of exchange partners who could offer personal guarantees for the quality or reliability of the goods, services and information that was transmitted through the networks. The social relations became powerful forms of currency in the socialist economy, both as means to procure and exchange goods, and as means to evaluate the worth of the goods and the information that flowed through the transactions. This emphasis on social networks as a necessary component to everyday life has continued into the present period. Caldwell, 2002, p. 299

There seems to be a common assumption that the vendor may try to cheat you by overcharging or giving you inferior products. Hence there is a need to carefully watch the vender and to challenge any discrepancies. In a huge Budapest market place filled with small vendors (Vásárcsarnok) there is a scale located at the entrance where people double-check the weight of their purchases just in case the vendor over charged them. In addition, the vendor may give you incorrect change. When I first started shopping in Hungary, they heard my American accent and slipped me old single forint coins that were no longer of any value. Having the ability to develop a rapport and trust with the vendor is

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an important skill. At most stands you are not allowed to touch the items being sold. The vendor selects the fruit or vegetables for you and weighs them. This entails a matter of trust because the vendor can sneak in lesser quality items such as bruised or overly soft fruit. In some cases one can develop a relationship with the vendor (See Figure 9). They know you and treat you as a special client. Ica néni is willing to travel across town to purchase food from particular vendors who she knows and trusts. Social networks in shopping provide a sense of familiarity that elder people prefer. In some cases there has been a backlash against Western “foreign” foods reflecting uneasiness with the transition “Thus, the impersonal and disinterested nature of capitalist economic systems characterized by immediate transactions and regulated by anonymous market ‘forces’ is at odds with a socialized system of consumption that works precisely because of the personal connections and sentiments that flow through it (Caldwell, 2002, p. 315).” In Ica néni’s

Figure 9

The Nagyvásárcsarnok or Central Market Hall in Budapest is the largest indoor market in Budapest that houses a collection of small vendors selling everything from fish and pickles in the basement, fruits, vegetables and meat on the main floor, and tourist items and food vendors on the upper floor. Around New Year’s many meat vendors feature pigs as they are considered to find good luck. Independent vendors run each stand and shoppers can form bonds with them in contrast to hypermarkets like Tesco that are more impersonal. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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case, the size and vast variety of items available at Western-style hyper markets are overwhelming for her especially compared to the old communist lack of merchandise. Ica has less personal connection to the vendors in the new larger markets and shopping itself has become more stressful to her both emotionally and physically. When stores like Tesco first came to Hungary some local merchants noticed a drop in consumers. Viktor (b. 1952) owned a small vegetable fruit stand at the local open marketplace in Ica’s town, and often claimed a decline in business due to these hyper markets that eventually forced him to move his stand to another part of town. Eliza (1928) stopped going to his stand at first, initially lured by the bigger newer stores such as Auchan, affectionately called the “Madaras tesco” due to its similarity to Tesco and its bird logo, but she eventually returned to Viktor’s market because she knew the vendors and felt more comfortable there. To paraphrase Richard Lee, it is not simply the things that are being traded, but social connections and obligations are built with people (Lee, 2006). For Ica néni this includes connections between shoppers and vendors, but also ones neighbors and friends. With limited incomes, social networks provide a security net and survival resource, but they also offer connections with community. The caveat being the individual must have something to exchange, and hoarding can be one strategy to obtain these goods. With the lack of ability to afford goods many seniors resort to hoarding essential items. I have seen cabinets filled with bags of flour or sugar as they had heard on the news the price was going to go up. The inflation in 1996 forced many of the stores to change prices daily creating multiple layers of price stickers. You could peel off one by one to see the daily increase in price. Elderly women hoarded goods not because they might become unavailable but rather they hoped to stock up on goods before the prices rose, furthermore extra resources could be traded or shared with one’s family or friends in exchange for something else. Skills useful during the Socialist era’s shortages of supplies now become useful due to a shortage of money to buy them. In addition changing food practices affect gender roles. 3

Changing Food Practices Impact on Gender and Agency for Elderly Hungarian Women

Ica néni proudly describes her kitchen as “French modern style.” She lives in a typical cement gray communist tower referred to as a “panel” apartment (See Figure 7). Extremely small yet efficient, her kitchen fits in a narrow hallway between the front door and the living room, the built in table folds flat

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against the wall, and the folding closet sized doors enclose the kitchen. I am still amazed at her small family of three’s ability to sit and dine in this compact space. Yet, I have never seen the kitchen ever “put away,” as they never folded up the table, nor closed the doors that would hide the kitchen consisting of a very small sink, with perhaps a foot of counter space, and a two-burner gas stove. Roasting a whole small chicken barely fits into this small oven reminding me of my childhood toy “easy bake oven” and yet Ica néni makes bountiful feasts despite the Lilliputian size kitchen. Ica néni tells me that during the Socialist period families were encouraged to eat at the neighborhood communal kitchen/restaurant, hence the architects reasoned a small kitchen would suffice. The front door has a windowed hinge where the communal kitchen could deliver food without having to open the door. Most people in her building have nailed these hinged doors shut for security and she said she never used them for their intended purpose. The Soviet model of communal eating hoped to create a communal atmosphere for workers but also relieve women of the burdens of cooking at home, however, Ica never liked it because she felt her home cooking was better. The communal restaurant closed down in the 1970s and still stands empty and unused today. Ica néni’s example shows how she reworked socialist designed spaces to assert gender roles and independence from the state. The Socialist system and female agency influenced gender role construction. Cooking, a necessary and valuable skill, affirms gender roles as reflected in the saying told to a young unmarried woman who cooks something well, “Most már férjhez mehetsz” (“Now you are ready to become a wife”). Complementing cooking skills as being up to the standard of a wife suggests home cooking is marked as a gendered occupation. A women’s ability to feed her family and her place within the private domestic realm reflects gender role construction. 3.1 Socialist Gender: Cooking and Defining Gender The problems that arose during the Socialist period changed gender roles. During the socialist period the message was to create an equal society, however, in practice this did not happen. Katherine Verdery argues that the socialist system pushed for a labor-intensive industrial program that needed labor regardless of gender (1996). Gender equality was not so much a moral issue but rather necessity for labor. The state tried to facilitate the needs of working women by providing the option of communal eating, maternal leave, abortion, state run childcare, and decent working conditions (See also Haney, 2002). Women were still expected to take care of household duties, such as housecleaning,

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c­ hildcare, and food preparation leading to the “double” or “triple” burden of wage labor and domestic labor (De Silva, 1993; Einhorn, 1993). Older women became associated with household tasks that gave them a sense of importance. Retired people living on pensions were left at home to care for children and deal with food preparation. As these senior citizens were mostly women, the task became feminized and yet it did give value and credence to elderly women (Verdery, 1996, pp. 64–65). Much like Hungary, in Russia, Randall Mack says, “In a multigenerational household, the grandmother may assume the bulk of the cooking chores and the wife and children assist in the preparation” (Randall Mack, 2005, p. 105). The value of elderly women’s household labor was especially pertinent during the socialist regime but also highlights redefinitions of the private sphere. 3.1.1 Socialist Impact on Gender in Public/Private Spheres The Socialist era altered understandings of the “female” private sphere. In Hungary, after the 1956 revolution, trying to soften a hostile population, the government made gradual yet uneven improvements to the quality of life. Lack of housing, and Socialist architectural preference for small kitchens influenced struggles within the household, and yet people reworked these spaces, and defied Welfare pressures to conform. An ideological difference in perception of private and public space developed. The private sphere could be a site of struggle due to lack of space. The lack of available apartments made housing a special problem forcing parents and grown married children to live together in often cramped spaces. Béla Tarr’s gritty and uncomfortable portrayal of a young couples struggles living with the husband’s parents while looking for available housing exemplifies this condition in his film “Családi Tűzfészek” (English title: “Family Nest”) (Tarr, 1979). A family nest of fire seems to more accurately reflect the feeling of the film, using real people as actors the black and white film feels like documentary and the dinner table fighting cringe worthy. Fehérvary suggests, “the socialist period, exacted a high toll on friendships, family relations, peace of mind, and finances, longings for those heterotypic spaces persisted (383).” Socialist society used architecture to shape their political agenda such as creating small kitchens to encourage a communal society. Nonetheless, individuals reworked these spaces to create their own identities. Caldwell notes that Public dining in communal kitchens, workplace canteens, and stateowned cafeterias and food shops was envisioned as an opportunity to instill in Soviet citizens socialist values of social and economic

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e­ mancipation, egalitarianism, and collective responsibility. Despite the state’s intentions, however, public dining never replaced completely the family kitchen and ironically the kitchen became valued as a safe space where close friends could interact away from the prying eyes of the state. Haney, 2002, p. 300

The Socialist aim was to liberate women from the domestic realm by creating a collective or state food production. Women would not need big kitchens to cook. As Fehérváry notes, “The state-socialist kitchen became one of the most reviled and ridiculed features of state planning, coming to symbolize socialism’s detrimental effects on the Hungarian family as it effectively prevented – as the modernist planner had intended – simultaneous seating of the extended family for dinner” (Fehérváry, 2002, p. 391). Despite the states attempt to spatially manipulate personal experience Women resisted these communal spaces and preferred to create family spaces at home. The act of food preparation associated with women’s maternal and domestic identity could also empower manipulation of resources from the state welfare system. At first the state de-emphasized gender differences as women were encouraged to enter the “male” public/work sphere. A woman’s choice to stay home was a subversive act. The State portrayed women who stayed at home as isolated and not fully human (Haney, 2002, p. 122). By the 1970s with a concern over low birthrates, state ideology emphasized work and motherhood as a social responsibility (Haney, 2002, p. 122). The state criticized idle housewives. Though women liked the economic independence and connection to other women they did not identify with their work outside the home (Haney, 2002, pp. 126–127). Their sense of self came from children and families associated with the domestic private sphere. In their kitchens, they remarked that they could feed their children healthier food if they had the resources. “I do all I can to give the little ones the nutrients they need,” a mother explained in 1969. “With a few extra forints, I could offer meat occasionally; children need meat, you know.” When they discussed recipes, female clients talked about how they longed to cook with “real” ingredients. As one mother joked in 1976, “My boys know it as stew, not beef stew, because they have never seen meat in it. This is a tragedy”. Haney, 2002, p. 139

Women identified with the domestic sphere and could justify their welfare claims in terms of food production for their families.

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Despite the potential for conflict with too many people cramped into small spaces, the domestic realm as a site for family could also offer respite from the state. Fehérváry notes that, “the state retreated from private family life – allowing the development of what came to be idealized as an apolitical and sacred domestic sphere’ opposed to the politicized public sphere of the state” (Fehérváry, 2002, p. 384). The home could be a space for affirming kinship networks and social groups (Pine, 2001). Opposition to the state reinforced the private sphere and emphasized the importance in the family (Verdery, 1996, p. 80; Lampland, 1995, pp. 462–463). Whereas state socialism stressed the public sphere of social production, women identified with the private domestic sphere (Haney, Inventing the Needy, 2002, pp. 114–115). The Socialist aim was to emancipate women by putting them in the public sphere and by emphasizing their role as workers. Yet Haney suggests there was an ideology of difference, On the one hand it was a rejection of the claim that women could obtain full human subjectivity through the world of work and politics – these were men’s domains, the férfi világ. On the other hand, it was a celebration of the fact that women had their own ways to become fully human – through their homes, families and relations with other women that constituted the women’s domain, the női világ. Hence, they were not the vanguards of the party or work force but rather the vanguards of the home. Haney, 2002, p. 126

Women’s feelings of self worth came from their children and family. Women identified with the private sphere counter to the state agenda (Haney, 2002, pp. 127–132). As the public sphere was dominated by the state, individuals preferred to identify with the private sphere. Western feminists have often been perplexed by the seemingly apathetic responses of their Eastern European sisters. Part of the reason lays in different understandings of the public/private spheres. One initial aim of Western feminism was to free women from the kitchen, to free them from the domestic household sphere to allow for career opportunities (Friedan, 2010). The Socialist aim already did this by mandating work for all. As a response against the state, many women refused to lose their connection to the domestic sphere, and to some extend this philosophy continues today. Post-Socialist Gender: Cooking and Defining Gender in a Market Economy After one Sunday meal we decided to go on a walk. We ran into one of Ica néni’s neighbors who casually asked what she had prepared for the Sunday meal. 3.2

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“Húsleves és töltött káposzta (meat soup and stuffed cabbage),” she claimed with a smile. I thought I misheard her because I was sure we had just eaten bableves (bean soup). Why had she lied? Ica néni had prepared bean soup for Sunday brunch because her son begged her to make it. When the neighbor asked what she prepared, she lied because bean soup, though really tasty, is not an appropriate food for Sunday brunch. It would have been an embarrassment for Ica néni if the neighbor knew she had only prepared bean soup when the traditional fair would be meat soup and fried chicken or pork cutlet, or in special cases rolled cabbage stuffed with meat (See Figure 8). Ica néni indicates the link between food and societal customs. Elderly ­women’s formative years from youth to adulthood were spent during the Socialist era yet the society has changed so that the reference point for framing their identity in terms of Socialist society no longer exists. Adhering to a domestic identity in terms of family and home no longer carries the same antisocialist value. Pensioners seem to adhere to norms set in their youth yet shifting to a market economy influenced gender roles as elderly women adjusted to the difficulties of the post-socialist condition. 3.2.1 Gender Roles as a Response to Post-Socialist Condition Though once glorified for their culinary feats despite State challenges, the status of older women is less valued today. The concept of equality of women was associated with the Socialist period so that with the criticism against things linked to state socialism after 1989, there was a strong adverse reaction against women’s equality (De Silva, 1993; Kiss, 1991). Some suggest women’s positions in society have gotten worse as indicated by high unemployment, a return of patriarchal gender assumptions, and a rise in inequality (Einhorn, 1993; Funk & Mueller, 1993; Haney, 1994; Hauser, Heynes, & Mansbridge, 1993; Rai, Pilkington, & Phizacklea, 1992; Szalai, 1991). Verdery suggests measures put in place by the socialist system to equate women have been undermined during the post-socialist period with a rise in anti-feminism, and a rise in pronatalism (Verdery, 1999, p. fn76). Verdery argues that the socialist system made men be perceived as “weak wimps” due to socialist mothering. This undermined the male family head by giving credence to women (1999, 80–81). During the post-socialist era bourgeois family norms have reemerged. Household duties not only are feminized but they no longer carry the significance of personal empowerment counter to the socialist state (Verdery, 81). This certainly has affected the prior heroism of the senior women whose anti-state status is withering in the post-socialist period.

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3.2.2

Post-Socialist Public/Private Sphere: from Anti-State Status to Unease with Modern Change I audaciously bought and used a Cuisinart type machine for the kitchen – a machine that Ica néni looked at with disdain, as if I were cheating the process of kitchen prep work. On several occasions Ica néni would make flip sarcastic remarks related to my use of the Cuisinart, what she called, “a gép” (the machine). I offered to buy a machine for Ica néni but mechanical devices confuse her. She finally conceded to having a microwave to reheat leftovers. Ica néni’s resistance to change may be reflective of the uneasiness with the new “modern” capitalist society. The private sphere came to represent something outside of the Socialist state but now the Socialist state no longer exists. Haney suggests, “It is clear women’s previous strategies have been undermined given the new institutional forms of domination. Quietly retreating into the home or simply ‘living truth’ no longer has the potentially counter-hegemonic implications it once had” (Haney, 1994, p. 145). In the post-socialist era there has been a growing divide among generations that seems to devalue older women’s roles. As post-socialist societies opened up Western culture infiltrated with new material goods, religions, and media. Some younger generations perceive this Western culture as novel, modern, and progressive. This has led to some conflict with the older generation that holds onto imagined traditions and values (Lankauskas, 2002). Many elder women cling to their cooking styles and resist change. They value the old way of doing things even if it takes more work. Randall Mack argues that A great part of her day is spent at the market looking for products, preparing raw ingredients, cooking and cleaning. Without the convenience of electric kitchen appliances, Russian women exert tremendous effort in basic kitchen prep work. Randall Mack, 2005, p. 108

There is an element of work, labor and suffering involved in cooking preparation that heightens older women’s sense of self-worth. Consumption of modern electronics may mark generational differences, but also social and political changes. Shevchenko looked at the cultural implications of modest family household’s purchases of modern electronics to suggest a politics of consumption so that “in the course of their everyday lives, political changes of the past decade were experienced not through ideological rhetoric or civic participation, but through changes in consumption. Or rather,

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changes in consumption were perceived as the very essence of political change at the level on which rank-and-file citizens have access to politics in a recognizable and immediately consequential form” (Shevchenko, 2002, p. 155)(155). She suggests the durable consumption items reflect glocalization as Western products may hold different meanings in the post socialist context, but also spurred by identity politics linked to beliefs and memories associated with the socialist past and capitalist present. I would argue in addition that the older generation may have different responses to these items. Ica néni criticized my Cuisinart as expensive, frivolous, and confusing but I also think it made her feel as if it diminished her hands on food processing skills, and the former valor in hard work and suffering involved in domestic labor. During the post-socialist period there is an “imagined” ideal of the West that has impacted the domestic sphere. People have reworked spaces to fit current issues and concerns to create “imagined” domestic spaces (Caldwell, The Taste of Nationalism, 2002). Small kitchens are not so unusual in Hungary though today many remodeled apartments boast “American style kitchens” meaning they are spacious and have Western-style amenities. Fehérváry suggests these remodeled kitchens reflect an imagined perception of the West as more modern. “They epitomize attempts to create heterotopias of normalcy with a not-normal local world and yet, with their high-tech hygiene and postmodern décor, incorporate Hungarians into an imagined world and lifestyle beyond Hungary’s borders” (Fehérváry, 2002, p. 394). The imagined perception of the West is associated with modernity whereas the things connected to Socialist Hungary are associated with being traditional, nostalgic, and backwards. To be part of the “modern” West is then to be perceived as “normal.” However this imagined modern “normalcy” can be strange for the elderly. In the post-socialist era senior women appear to hold on to their “traditional” kitchens and domestic roles. Several of the elderly women I know have had their kitchens remodeled yet interestingly they retained their old style. Erszike néni lived in an apartment with no bathroom and she shared a communal water closet down the hall. Her daughter paid to renovate a small bedroom into a large bathroom. Erszike néni had always slept in the living room and the bedroom had been her daughter’s room. She uses part of the new bathroom as a pantry to store her many jars of homemade preserves. Though a new tile floor and sink were installed in the kitchen, she insisted on keeping her 1940s gas stove. Other than the new floor and sink, the kitchen looks much the same. Ica néni’s son also fixed up her apartment and she chose the carpet, wall color, and tiles. Like Erszike néni, the kitchen is much the same only with new tiles and a new counter. They did not choose to have the huge American style kitchen with modern appliances. As Lankauskas (2002) suggests, there

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may be a g­ enerational difference of opinion. The youth may prefer Western ideals because it is perceived as modern, whereas the elderly assert a resistance to change. 4 Conclusion Ica Néni’s soup recipe: 2 Turkey backbones Chicken neck, wings, gizzard, heart, kidney A little sunflower oil – 2 tablespoons 4–5 thin peeled whole carrots 3–4 thin peeled whole parsnips 2 Savoy cabbage leaves ¼ to ½ peeled and sliced kohlrabi ⅛ to ¼ peeled and sliced celery root 2 peeled potatoes 1 small whole onion 2 peeled whole garlic cloves * 1 small to medium whole tomato *½ cauliflower *One whole small dried hot pepper 2 teaspoons vegeta (a salty mixture of herbs & spices) ⅛–¼ teaspoon paprika (just for color) Several chopped sprigs of Italian parsley Salt and pepper to taste I asked Ica néni if she could teach me now to make húsleves. She seemed pleased that I would want to learn but also perplexed that I did not know how already. She rattled off the ingredients and told me to put them in a pot, slightly brown, add cold water and let gradually simmer. After the water warms skim off the foam that rises. Ica néni would get up early on Sunday, serve her family breakfast, and then leave the soup over a very low flame while she went off to Church. After approximately four hours on a low simmer she sieves the broth and separates the vegetables for the noon lunch. Ica néni likes the turkey backbones because she believes it gives the most yellow color. These are readily available at most butcher stands. She typically makes fried chicken the same Sunday, so she throws in the neck, heart, gizzards and chicken wings into the soup. I tried Ica néni’s recipe several times at home and it just never came out correctly. First she forgot to tell me to add some vegeta, a vegetable salt

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s­ easoning and of course a tomato and a few potatoes. I have tried to observe her while she cooked, but she does not measure. She adds a pinch of this and a handful of that. She just knows what it is supposed to taste like. She never follows a recipe. I finally resorted to referring to the Horváth Ilona’s Szakácskönyv a widely used basic Hungarian cookbook (1997). The recipes, like Ica néni’s, however tend to be more general and vague: they are short, to the point, and tend to assume you have a general understanding. One recipe states to use “vegyes leveszöldség” mixed soup greens, however, how are you supposed to know what are these “mixed soup greens”? The recipe does not specify how much of each vegetable nor whether they should be peeled or chopped. It simply states to add cleaned vegetables. It is assumed that people know. Cooks might also want to keep their recipes a secret in order to retain accolades for their good food. Ica néni prides herself on the crystal clear, yellow soup, “mint az olaj” (Like the color of sunflower oil). It is garnished with fine noodles or galuska (dumplings) (See Figure 10). Cooking chicken soup for Ica Néni informs her identity as a senior Hungarian woman yet also illustrates the power and oppression of society. In the socialist period everyone shared a common misery because everyone faced limited resources. The changes in the ability to acquire and prepare food from a socialist society to a market economy have affected Ica néni’s personal experiences

Figure 10 Ica rolls pasta paper-thin and hand cuts into small squares. First, she dries the pasta on a dish toweled covered couch, then stores for later use in soup. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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and practices. In both situations she had to struggle with acquiring limited resources: in the socialist period merchandize was limited, in the post-socialist period she simply cannot afford to buy goods. Hoarding and systems of reciprocal exchange (legal and illegal) became part of people’s everyday experience. Using her wits she learned the importance of personal social connections, aggression, persistence, and strength. Cooking can affirm gender roles and women’s place in society but culinary skills can also give her authority within the household. It may take extra work and labor to attain and process food but it was necessary for the household economy during the socialist era and is now necessary for an elderly woman living on a small income. Food preparation adds to their feelings of heroism and the ability to overcome challenges. Making chicken soup illustrates the ability to make something from nothing and is one way to look at the affects of Post-socialist change on senior pensioner women. Gender roles were constructed partly in response to the State system so that during the Communist era women who held full time positions in the labor force continued to be defined by their household work rather than their work outside the home adding to privileging the domestic sphere over the public. Despite the difficulty of working in small spaces, despite the states efforts to encourage communal eating, women preferred to cook at home. It was a matter of taste and personal satisfaction to affirm the personal private sphere in contrast to the State. To glorify the domestic sphere subtly critiqued the socialist system. During the post-socialist era retired female pensioners no longer fulfill a necessary socio-economic niche once revered in the socialist period, yet they are prepared for the challenges in the Capitalist era. As the younger generation adheres more to a Western capitalist economy, they want houses in the suburbs, they want large American style kitchens, and they want convenience in terms of modern appliances and shopping in Western style markets. They have the cash to do so. During the post-socialist period older people prefer the old way of doing things despite the extra time and effort. For the elderly, hanging onto the past ways of doing things can be an act of resistance to a market society that has been unforgiving. Many pensioner women are now losing their clout, however, they have gained the survival skills learned in the socialist era that allow them to adapt to economic struggles and high unemployment particularly for elderly women. They are still able to manage despite limited incomes and the inability to afford resources. The transition has been particularly hard for Ica néni given her working class background, age cohort, and gender, however, Ica néni is still the leves király (the soup king). When it comes to making soup, hers is still the best (See Figure 11).

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Figure 11 A visit to Ica’s entails eating soup as a form of hospitality that ­creates bonds. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

Past practices asserted in present day contexts may serve as survival strategies for coping with a changing society. The following chapter explores this same theme from a slightly different perspective to look as how pre-Soviet t­ raditions can be reclaimed postsocialism not only to assert formerly oppressed peasant identity, but also to cope with a bitter loss of land and heritage due to cooperative farming.

Chapter 3

Reclaiming Folklore after Communist Era Oppression: Peasant Folklore of the Past Asserted in the Present “I swear, I would starve, not even put bread in my mouth, to save the land. Because that is how glued our people are to the land, only the land, the land, the land!” Viktor shouted. Viktor’s grandfather told him that “The Turkish took everything but left the land, the Germans were here but left the land, and if you don’t get it back now, you the younger generation, will get it back when they leave.” But they did not. When the summer fades and crisp cold mornings become more frequent the fall grape harvest commences. Viktor (b. 1952) and his family members reenact a traditional peasant grape harvest (szüreti mulatság) that celebrates the fall, a tie to their peasant heritage, and national pride. Viktor and his family identify with their peasant heritage and cultural connections to the land. I have known Viktor and his wife Klári for several years as I initially met them through a mutual friend when I first began research in 1993. Viktor has been married since 1977, has two sons and just like his parents before him; he has a green grocer stand (zöldség gyümölcs) at an open market (piac) where his family sells fruits, vegetables, and pickled foods. Viktor introduced me to his great Aunt Mária néni (b. 1935) who he hailed as one who carried the family’s traditions, as a true peasant woman (igazi parasztasszony). Mária néni strongly connects to her peasant roots, proudly displaying her wedding photograph from 1953 and discussing her traditional peasant wedding dress, and their family cultural traditions connected to their farming legacy. Mária néni and Viktor’s core identity stems from their peasant heritage, and this chapter explores the symbolic way this illustrates attitudes towards societal change. A harvest tradition shows a neo-traditional turn towards reclaiming an invented ethnic peasant heritage, to reassert identity, and make political commentary on the past and present day society. The return to a past peasant custom reclaims a “traditional” tie to the land that the Communist push to create cooperative farming severed. This peasant festival illustrates the constructed nature of “tradition” and reflects societal context, particularly for a society affected by drastic societal change. During the socialist era there was an ambivalence towards peasants for on the one

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004328648_005

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hand they represented good hard agrarian workers rich with folk heritage and traditions, yet on the other they might also be perceived as threatening as resisters and purveyors of Hungarian national identity. The original event, the actual festival as it was practiced by peasants in the past, is difficult to represent as tradition is not static or “pure” as it alters, adapts and changes over time and furthermore a so called “tradition” can be an invention (Hobsbawm & Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, 1983). One clear distinction between the “traditional” szüreti mulatság and the “current” one is that in the past the grape harvest festival was an event celebrated by peasants who actually grew and harvested the grapes. This chapter will explore how Viktor’s family celebration of this event draws on elements of the traditional festival, yet they reconstructed this cultural memory translating the festival into their present day life within a post-socialist market economy. Since 1990 a community on the outskirts of Budapest has reenacted this event every fall. From my discussions with participants, these harvest festivals were suppressed during the Communist era, but now, after 1989, they celebrate it again. Many of the participants had never experienced the peasant tradition and had to learn what this “traditional” festival entails.  It became clear that Viktor’s family’s strong cultural ties to the land have become more symbolic as expressed in the wine harvest festival, as they no longer farm or produce wine. Traditional harvest festivals can depict time in the form of history both real and imagined such as a reenactment of an origin myth or a historical period. Alfred Gell argues: From the standpoint of method, the investigation of harvest festival categories should not precede, but should follow, the investigation of the choreography of mundane social process, which form the background against which harvest festival reconstructs the world in the image of human desires. Harvest festival representations of time do not provide a ‘worldview’ but a series of special purpose commentaries on the world which cannot be defined in advance or once and for all, which have to be understood practically, not metaphysically. Because ritual collective representations of time only cohere in the light of their implicit relation with the practical, they cannot be singled out as constituting the unique, culturally valid representations of time operated by members of a particular society. Instead, analysis of collective representations of time must proceed along a broad front, continually charting the interplay between systemic factors, deriving from the spatio-temporal layout of the practical world and the wide variety of symbolic constructs which agents deploy in the course of handling their affairs. Gell, 1992, p. 326

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Though the depiction of the wine festival may not portray a “culturally valid representation” of the past, it should be understood in relation to the current cultural context taken from the “spatio-temporal layout of the practical world and the wide variety of symbolic constructs which agents deploy in the course of handling their affairs” (Gell, 1992, p. 326). From this point of view, the wine festival can be seen as a ritual that should be read within the context of a changing society as people adjust and interpret their society. Though each participant in the festival may have his or her own understanding of the event, the celebration creates a collective alternative to a past tradition, an “invented” tradition, and an alternative to a present expression of peasant identity for people who are no longer truly peasants. Because of intervening time in the series, parallelism is lost. The grape festival is a presoviet practice yet this community celebrates it within the context of postSocialist society. Even though they cling to past symbols they cannot go back to the same point in space and time. As such the grape festival represents a tension between the appeal of an imagined simpler agrarian Hungarian society and the present day uncertainty of a society in transition. Though socialism suppressed and censored the civic non state-controlled events to express a Hungarian identity, they also adopted peasant folklore traditions. My informants said this public peasant tradition that would have taken place on the streets of the city was suppressed during the Soviet period so that today there is the chance to rediscover and reinvent what this tradition might be. Community building draws on history, the environment, agency, and identity and signs and symbols can contribute to the production of this communal identity. This chapter looks at one illustrative example for textual analysis to demonstrate how tradition allows social commentary on the past and present day society as it facilitates coping with societal problems and affirms collective identity. The following briefly contextualizes the pre-socialist tradition, and the tradition within the Socialist era before going into more detail about the way Viktor’s family and community celebrate this tradition as a response to the post-socialist condition. I argue that this grape harvest festival symbolically takes a neo-traditional turn creating an imagined space and time that indicates ambivalence towards both the past and present day societies. Looking at this grape harvest festival shows a construction of “tradition” that symbolically copes with societal tension by revitalizing pre-soviet peasant traditions, by providing commentary on the Socialist past, and by reconstructing identity. The following outlines 1) the pre-socialist tradition linking it to peasant tradition and ties to the land, 2) the socialist period illustrates struggles over control and identity, and 3) the post-socialist period view as a reinvention of tradition to manage current issues and problems. An agrarian ritual surfaces as

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r­ evealing the appeal of the peasant as multi-vocal symbol of resistance, tradition, and national identity. 1

Pre-Socialist Period: Claims to Peasant Heritage and Ties to the Land

The peasant symbolically embodies Hungarian folk culture, yet the peasant as an image of Hungarian identity is paradoxical because it is a “mythical figure.” Peasants have important historic and symbolic significance for Hungary and serve as a marker of tradition, and the past. There is an assumption that the peasant is backward and hence retains past traditions (Hobsbawm & Ranger, The Invention of Tradition, 1983). To call someone a country bumpkin (bugris) can be an insult in contemporary Hungarian society as it implies one is simple or backward, yet to be a country peasant is a source of ethnic-like pride for Viktor’s family. Sherry Ortner defines a summarizing symbol as a sacred symbol that can emotionally sum up the essence of a cultural group, and the “peasant” is one such symbol (Ortner, 2008, p. 154). Though pre-Socialist Hungary was primarily an agrarian society, currently no substantial group of actual present day peasants exists – a class of farmers who toil small plots of land for themselves or for feudal lords. Yet there are people such as Viktor and his family who identify as “ethnically” peasant – they affiliate culturally with their peasant heritage despite not technically being peasants. Peasant culture is tied to the land, an attitude Viktor considers essential, as evidenced by his swearing to starve to save the land. Peasant culture is associated with hard work and fortitude, an attitude Viktor takes to heart. I remember stopping by the open air market where they had a stand to find Viktor asleep in the back on top of sacks of potatoes as he had been up all night driving to the country-side to select fruits and vegetables to sell in the city. He still had a long day ahead of him, and tried to catch a bit of rest in between. In the winter his wife Klári would look three times her size wearing layers of clothing to keep warm while standing outside to sell vegetables to customers. Viktor’s mother continued to work at the stand well into her seventies. Though they worked hard long days, and earned good money, they rarely seemed to have opportunity to enjoy it, only taking off a couple weeks in January when business was slow. A history of peasant uprisings in Hungary also associates the peasant with a symbol of rebellion. Though I will not go into historical detail about Hungarian peasant uprisings, more notable accounts include the petty nobleman BudaiNagy Antal who led the peasant revolt of 1437, and Dózsa György who led the peasant uprisings in 1514 against the kingdom’s landed nobility, as well as more

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recently an agricultural “peasant” revolt in 1997 (Housley, 1998; Kovács K., 1999). James Scott outlines ways peasants can resist authority and deny consent to oppression through everyday tactics such as foot-dragging, sabotage, or poaching that may draw on symbolism (Scott, 1985). During the Socialist period Kligman and Verdery outline the Romanian peasants resolve in thwarting the Party’s projects causing them to alter their plans in response (Kligman & Verdery, 2011). The 1997 revolt in Hungary for example entailed a march that included people driving tractors, symbolically linking the connection to farming and ties to the land (Kovács K., 1999). Thus, on the one hand the peasant as symbol can be perceived as simple, backward, and enduring hard work, yet on the other, they can also be seen as a political force. Though the Socialist regime might have fostered peasant traditions and folklore, they might have been suspicious of their potential to revolt. As a result, a peasant traditional activity, such as the grape harvest festival, can be perceived as an opportunity for people to organize collectively and express discontent with authority. The szüreti mulatság (grape harvest celebration) celebrates the first press of the wine and expresses Hungarian folklore. In some pre Soviet accounts the festival shares ties to the Catholic Church, and the festival would take place over several days. In one such account Károly suggests “Wine is the national drink of Hungarians” (Károlyi, 1939, p. 85), associating this peasant grape harvest festival with a national Hungarian identity. Historical references describe the event as a parade of good-looking girls carrying through the village strings of freshly harvested grapes strung onto rods. A band of young men would march alongside them, stopping house by house to serenade the village with songs. Following the parade a grand party celebrated with ample food, drinking, and dancing. The parties could last several days, leaving the drunken men to sing into the early hours of the morning (Hálasz, 1962, pp. 138–146; Kecskés, 2006). Mária néni exclaims that in the old days there was a szüreti bál (Vintage ball/festival), but “I was never once ever in the szüreti bál. Well, there were village girls, the csikos (cowboys); the gang would come parade by. I never once went with the csikos.” Though she did not participate in the procession itself, she did go to the party afterwards with the rest of the community, but this tradition faded out during the Socialist era. 2

Socialist Period: “Traditional” Ritual as a Method of Control “Well, it’s a tradition” Mária néni proclaims, “It was a long time ago, in my mother’s era, there is also a photograph. In the old days there was the vintage ball, at the end of the grape harvest. Under the TSZ (Collective

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Farm) they flattened the tradition. They did it. This harvest ball was an old tradition. At that time we rode on horses. But for us, the Catholics, at that time we also rode horses, if there was a celebration or procession. In the procession there was a trumpet player or a band, and they would ride on horses. The procession was the highlight.” The processions occurred during her childhood, and though a few took place after the war, “afterwards they stopped, they didn’t let the procession continue, and the officials stopped it.” The following section briefly looks at the ways the socialist state used rituals to control the populace yet also suppressed rituals they felt might threaten the state. On the one hand the Socialist state glorified the hard working peasants and their traditions, yet on the other hand the state could use rituals as a method of control and suppressed non-state organized events such as this group procession on the streets. Getting a glimpse at why and how the state suppressed the grape harvest festival will give insight into the significance of celebrating it again postsocialism. The Socialist state formed mechanisms to control time through rituals. “Etatization”, Verdery claims is the way communist authorities attempted to control people’s private time (Verdery, What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next?, 1996, p. 40). Time could be controlled in a number of ways such as rituals, calendars, curfews, and workday schedules (Verdery, What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next?, 1996, pp. 40–41). In Hungary for example, St. Stephen’s day traditionally had been a huge public spectacle as people gathered around St. Stephen’s Cathedral to carry the sacred mummified hand of St. Stephen in a holy procession. Religious practices were not officially sanctioned by the Socialist state, as they wanted the populace to unify under the communist agenda; hence the state initiated a series of public events to displace the St. Stephen procession and divert peoples’ attention from the church. Hann notes King Stephen was canonized by the Roman Catholic Church within a half a century of his death in 1038, and his feast day is celebrated on 20 August, the day of his burial. Secular markers have been laid down for this same day by the socialist state. It has become ‘New Bread Day’, and since 1949 has been a public holiday as ‘Constitution Day’. This provides a good example of the symbolic rivalry mentioned above. Thus in the village which I studied in Hungary there was a ceremony at the council offices on 20 August 1988 at which all three celebrations were apparently given equal prominence. Before 1988 only the secular symbols were recognized on state premises, and Stephen was confined to the church. But in the inter-war period the

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highest state leaders (including Admiral Horthy, a Protestant) took part in a commemorative procession of which Stephen was the main focus; it was emulated all over Hungary with festivities including displays of folk costume and fireworks. Hann C., 1990, pp. 5–6

Etatization is a way to describe how the state controlled time, and this process affects peoples’ everyday experiences in the form of ritual, leisure time, or work. The state could control time in terms of the body through official holidays. Human bodies could be placed in particular activities to enforce an alternative use of time (Verdery, What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next?, 1996, p. 40). State holidays and events were often huge public spectacles. The huge participation by the population might suggest public acceptance of the communist state, however, people might be coerced to attend. On May 1st, Labor Day, companies would make a float for a parade, and as a reward they would be given free hot dogs and beer, with perhaps a live concert. Gyuszi (b. 1956) describes how schoolchildren were dressed to wear red scarves and wave the Socialist flag at these events. College students were encouraged to carry political signs in the procession – but for some these events were more about socializing with friends than promoting a political belief. Though the casual observer might think that the population believed and supported the state by attending these events, they might have been, as Verdery suggests, placed into activities, or they may have had alternative reasons for participating (See also Ten Dyke 2000). Nonetheless the events disrupted and displaced traditional practices. Rituals can reflect the control of what can and should be remembered given the historical context. Students had initiated a revolt against Soviet-imposed policies in 1956 instigating suppression by Soviet troops. People were imprisoned, and killed, and many fled illegally from the country leading to a large wave of emigration. After the failed revolution the State denied and censored that the uprising occurred. In 1996 I witnessed an early public commemoration of the 1956 events. In 1996 few people visited the National Museum, which had also been an important site for the 1956 revolution. A small political crowd with a megaphone spoke in front of the Magyar Radio station, which is located behind the National Museum. Most people gathered around the Parliament building where in 1996 they were unveiling a new monument with a flame that burned for those lost in the ’56 Revolution. Musicians played nationalistic and folk songs, and dancers dressed in traditional peasant costumes performed, and the crowd ambled about. Most attention focused on a symbolic grave that stands to honor those who were killed in their protest against the communists.

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Hundreds of small paper flags surrounded the symbolic tomb. Candles were lit much like All Souls day in November when people visit the cemeteries to honor their dead loved ones. Many surely still remember the ’56 revolution and its lasting effects. Postsocialism allows for people to reflect back on a past that might have been suppressed, and ritual is one form in which to do this. Peasant rituals could have been perceived as controversial during the Soviet era as the peasant as rebellious symbol could both rally political support yet also contest it. There has been a peasant national party at various times in Hungary, from 1939 to 1949, and during the 1956 Revolution, and briefly following the fall of communism there was a national peasant party (Nemzeti Parasztpárt) from 1989 to 1990. Though its history is too complicated to outline here, its main purpose was directed towards land reform, and was sponsored by the Communist Party to attract rural votes (McHale, 1983). Several films banned for political reasons depicted people from the countryside, and peasants in particular, involved in peasant and/or Catholic ritual celebrations. A typical pattern was to set the story of the film in a pre-Soviet context and portray them as victims of oppression and as sources of contention yet this practice only thinly veiled social commentary on the Soviet era (Szöts, 1948; Banovich, 1956; Magyar, 1971). Janscó Miklós’ film “Még Kér a Nép (1972)” (English Film title: Red Psalm) takes its title from a poem “And the People Shall Ask” by the famous poet and revolutionary Petőfi Sándor. Postsocialism Janscó has remarked that though this film depicted peasants, the film was indeed a social commentary on the 1956 revolution. The state also censored ritual practices that might spur Hungarian nationalism over State allegiance. While the Soviet system touted the peasant as a symbol of hard work, ironically the socialist government was careful to suppress images of peasant resistance. The symbol of the peasant on the one hand embodies the traditions of Hungary, and yet on the other hand represents contention. The state made efforts to dissolve traditional peasant society (Kovács J. Ö., 2013). The peasant tie to the land was essential, and collectivized farming, perceived as part of Soviet Russian rule, was met with great resistance. The Mezögazdasági Termelö Szövetkezet TSZ (Collective Farm) refers to the collectivization of agriculture introduced during the Soviet Rákosi era (1948–1956). Hungarian peasants resisted collectivization clinging to their lands, and as the farmers lacked motivation, production fell (Fabian, 1955). In the late 1950s, and early 1960s, the “TSZ” provided greater incentives to collectivize agriculture, yet Viktor and his great Aunt Mária néni express great resentment towards collectivized farming both in the past and post-socialist era. Mária néni explains that in her youth the land was more important because,

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Well, the inheritance. If the farmer dies, and there is no one to take over, then that is the end of everything. Well, I stayed on the land to work and did not go to the factory. Right, this was a dependable income. Therefore we never bought anything, just the land, the land is our legacy to give to our descendants. Few people went to work in the factory. Who ever had the land, as I did, it was the trend to work the land rather than go to the factory. Traditionally this wine festival connects Viktor’s family and community to their peasant cultural heritage and their ties to the land, but also an appreciation for resistance. Even as a ten-year-old child Mária néni remembers not liking the Russians. Hiding in the basement from the Germans soldiers who marched toward central Budapest in March 1944, from her child perspective she recalled, being very impressed with the German soldiers. They were so handsome. They were well dressed, I do not know, I liked the clothes. When the Russians came, we did not like them. In such a child’s head I saw them, I could see they were not well dressed. At the time I did not know, they were so scary. On the outskirts of Budapest, in the area where Mária néni grew up, there were still farmlands, and though she heard of people starving in the city, they had a stockpile of food; “plenty of potatoes, carrots, corn, so we had everything.” Not everyone was so lucky; she recalls a schoolmate whose newborn brother died of starvation, and a barkeeper’s wife and daughter who were shot for resisting the soldiers; on her tombstone stating “here lies the women who defended honor.” Yet in Mária néni’s immediate neighborhood they did not experience such things. They did however experience looting by the soldiers. She said that first the Nazis looted during WWII, then later the Russians. They took a pig, horses, and cows and then her family was lucky to have what was left over. The szüreti mulatság symbolizes Viktor and Mária néni’s peasant traditions and further accentuates their ties to the land, yet during the Communist era they claim the TSZ suppressed the celebration. During the 1956 revolution, as the Russians rolled tanks into the city, shooting broke out in Mária neni’s area, so again families hid in the basements. Our small church was destroyed. We went down to the basement. Then they broke into the grocery store. But our area was not really in the fight. Then there were young people who went to Budapest to fight. The direct

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combat was not here; it was rather in Budapest. I saw what was on TV but a lot of information was not communicated to us – that many people were executed or put into prison. We just heard through rumor that kids were hung. I remember many people left; they defected. But in our minds this did not occur, we were so attached, connected to our area. Though not far away, and although technically her town is now part of “Budapest,” she saw herself as part of a peasant culture and their town as a remote village disconnected from events that took place in the center of Budapest. Being linked to peasants, the festival evokes a history of resistance and a symbol of ambiguity. Peasant resistance throughout Hungarian history might explain why state socialism condemned the peasant grape harvest festival. The seemingly powerless peasant represents a source of empowerment due to his or her ability to skirt those in power. However, communists portray the peasant as an emblem for its own propaganda. While the state glorifies the simple hardworking efforts of the peasantry, they downplay the peasant’s revolutionary ways. Hungarians, however, do not forget these peasant revolutionary ways. As a young bride, Mária néni claims the Russians took their horses during the 1956 uprising. For the peasant, she exclaimed, the horses were everything to them. But she considers her family lucky as through these rough periods her family always had at least one cow. “My father was proud to always say we had one left, whose name was called ‘Cifra,’ who we had for a long time, even then, when we were in war times.” When her father died in 1980, they no longer kept a cow. By then “Already there wasn’t any land, not even land to mow, and so we no longer kept a cow. The land was taken away of course, the TSZ-world came.” At this point Viktor could no longer contain himself, and explained that after the 1956 revolution they pushed more to collectivize the farmland. “Grandfather was summoned, and they told him that if he did not sign the paper, then he would not see his grandson.” He said in the further countryside there was not as strong a threat as this area close to Pest. The peasants were taken to the police station and pressured to sign, but his grandfather was held in high regard in the area, and as long as he did not sign, others would not as well. Verdery and Kligman recount a similar pattern in Romania: [P]easant status values emphasized possession of land and animals enabling self-directed labor, social embeddedness and wealth in people, and moral values centered on character an hard work. Communist categories, by contrast saw these as based on exploiting the labor of others. Since differential ownership of the means of production grounded both

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labor exploitation and status based on possession, confiscating the land of wealthy peasants would seem one way to address the problem. That, however, would disrupt the supply of food to the cities, and so it was done only selectively. The challenge was to keep the wealthy peasants producing while making them pariahs and isolating them from other peasants socially – that is, undercutting their status honor and their wealth in people – while recasting the moral universe of the village through new ideas about justice. Kligman & Verdery, 2011, p. 325

The peasant becomes an important symbol for resisting communism. The peasant, hence, is an ambiguous symbol as it was a favored symbol of Communism yet the peasant could also be a symbol of resistance to oppressive authority.  Being ambiguous contributes to a symbol’s effectiveness because it entails “multi-vocality.” The symbol can have different meanings for different people. Verdery says a good political symbol “has legitimating effects not because everyone agrees on its meanings but because it compels interest despite (because of) divergent views of what it means” (Verdery, The Political Lives of Dead Bodies, 1999, p. 31). Celebrating the wine festival today resists the communist past and perhaps pays homage to the peasant trickster identity linked to skirting and undermining the communist system itself. The following will explore this further by looking at how the peasant celebration may serve as a way to cope with societal conflict and change. 3

Post-Socialist Period: “Traditional” Celebration as a Form of Reinvention Helps Society Cope with Change

Viktor’s community reenacts a harvest festival without a harvest as they bought the wine in Eger. It is a peasant festival without a peasant as no one really farms. They buy expensive “traditional” costumes and must take classes to learn “traditional” dance and horse riding. Therefore, despite the difficulty in reconstructing or preserving a past event, there is a clear distinction between what constituted the old and the new celebrations. Though there is a diversity of participants, one coherent theme is the cultural memory of a peasant tradition. To paraphrase Frederic Jamison’s description of pastiche, like parody the harvest tradition is a copy or caricature of the past but unlike parody, it is not a humorous mockery of it. The celebration pieces together the symbolic essence

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of the szüreti, a peasant wine celebration, in an effort to create new meaning and community bonds. The past helps people like Viktor deal with the changes in the present, as reclaiming the peasant grape harvest festival effaces the difficulties of the past and present. The brief period of euphoria immediately following the fall of communism in 1989 did not last. Many optimistically believed Hungary could now be a free independent country and all its problems would be over, unfortunately, harsh reality and turmoil set in. Although Hungary has tried to rebuild a civil society, some of the residue of state totalitarianism remains. Western capitalism seems to be colonializing the country with McDonalds, Burger Kings, and foreign capital. Foreign factories can take advantage of cheap Hungarian labor. Unemployment continues as a rising problem. The gap between the rich and poor widens, as homelessness dramatically increased. Russian, Ukrainian, and Chinese Mafiosi infiltrate the country. The pornography industry thrives along with a rise in drug use. Young educated people emigrate to Ireland or London to work, while an older generation suffers a brunt of economic issues. High rates of alcoholism and suicide, a persistent problem in Hungary, reveal the Social unrest of the society. The shift to a market system did not bring an immediate cure but rather disillusionment (See also West, 2002). And as for Viktor’s grandfather’s prophecy that they would get the land back disappointingly did not come true. To reassert the peasant as symbol post communism gives meaning to a changing society ridden with instability. Verdery argues that some symbols are essential to political transformation due to their “symbolic capital” (1999, 33). Political transformation she argues is more complex than moving to a market economy as there is a “cosmic” reordering of the world. Daily life under socialism continued within or against certain constraints and these rules framed people’s lives. Hence with the shift to a market economy, the rules that framed people’s lives also shift. As this change is very disorienting, a symbol that can evoke the past and present is useful in revising the past as societies adjust to post-socialist change (Verdery, 1999, 33–36). The peasant is one such symbol. The peasant embodies a tie to the past before communism, he or she expresses resistance before and during communism, and the peasant reasserts a censored past. The peasant is a mythic symbol that evokes emotion associated with a denied national identity. Individuals chose to participate in this event for reasons that vary from person to person, but it does draw people together for a limited time. The young three year old child brought by her parents and gleefully running between the grown up’s legs is going to have a different reason for being here than the adult Viktor who watches his two adolescent sons dance and who serves wine and

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pizza to the guests. What brings together this diverse group of young and old, wealthy and poor, folksy and trendy, is the celebration of a peasant grape harvest festival, the oxymoron of a new tradition. These individuals participate in a collective representation of cultural memory. Diverse individuals participate in a common event because there is a meaningful cultural “image” of the peasant that is simplified to the extent that it has significance for the community. The transmission of the image of the peasant is possible because of its importance to the group that participates in this event (Fentres & Wickham, 1992). The following explores revitalization of pre-soviet symbols, as commentary on the past within the context of post-socialist society, and as a way to reconstruct identity. 3.1 “Traditional” Celebration as Revitalization of Pre-Soviet Symbols The harvest festival revitalizes a faded past tradition in order to make sense of or understand societal change. Ritual can link to “tradition”, and to “the past,” and can be part of a revitalization process to reconstruct a sense of identity in times of uncertainty. Anthony Wallace argues that in times of crisis societies often turn to a “revitalization” process as a response to anomie and turmoil. This revitalization process can reclaim past cultural practices and identity to reassert or reinvent a worldview, to “construct a more satisfying culture during periods of heightened stress” (Wallace, 1956, p. 265). People reminisce about a “simpler” “easier” way of life. Though this memory may be inaccurate, it is a reinvention of tradition and it provides a sense of solace. During the disillusionment of transition, the festival can be viewed as part of a revitalization process that reconfigures pre-soviet peasant culture to efface societal problems past and present. The subsequent section describes the ritual harvest festival as celebrated by Viktor, his family, and neighbors. 3.1.1 Descriptive Account of the Wine Festival A week before the harvest party, I go to meet Viktor and Klári to accompany them to the town of Eger where we will buy wine for the wine harvest festival. We drive two hours in the rain and cold some 87 miles outside of Budapest. Viktor and Klári bicker about something as putting on this festival involves a great deal of stress and strain, so I silently slump in the back seat of the car. We go to the valley of Szép Asszony outside the city of Eger where a number of wine caves line up in a row. Cut into the side of the hill, these caves keep the wine at a constant cool temperature. I initially thought we would be sampling from various wine sellers, however Viktor heads straight for a wine cave in the middle as he has done business with this vendor before. They have a rapport and personal connections are especially important in any kind of

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transaction in Hungary. The wine cave, dark, damp, and cool, has tables lined with red embroidered table cloths, bowls of salty pogácsa rolls, and candlesticks layered with years of dripping wax their flames projecting flickers of light in the room as previous patrons have pressed metal coins into the soft moldy walls. Viktor goes past these tables straight to the back room that most patrons never see as he brings several large plastic canisters to be filled with wine directly from the barrels. Viktor asked me not to speak much as my American-accented Hungarian might hinder his ability to negotiate a price for the wine, so Klári and I linger in the bar area while the men haggle over prices in the back room. Though Viktor does not own a farm, does not grow his own grapes, and must purchase the wine, he proudly associates his family with agricultural traditions. Though Viktor bought the wine in Eger for the wine grape festival, there was a time when people in Viktor’s area had vineyards. Mária néni said “My grandfather made wine. There were eight kinds of grapes, so from that, the entire year was divided to tend to the fields. There was a cellar, a wine cellar. Everyone around here had grapes.” Though she said a long time ago the town itself had grapevines, since then the area had become incorporated into the “New” Pest area technically making it part of the city of Budapest, but most everyone had land outside the village. Her grandfather, and then her father, grew grapevines on hilly sandy land some seven kilometers away. In the fall came the harvest of the grapes. Well, we took a bucket. Everyone had an enamel bucket, a knife, and then we went. We brought a good lunch, in the evening we would cook a goulash over a fire. My mother always cooked goulash. There was one time with my mother, when I also loved to go. And she cooked chicken stew, well, such a stew that I still remember the taste in my mouth. Everything was different then. Harvesting the grapes and community celebration were part of the harvest ball experience but now Mária néni and her family no longer farm. Well, nowadays I don’t like to hoe the ground. I no longer like to fiddle around with the land, very rarely. If the land was still workable, now I only play around with it. Farming is now over. We used to grow wheat. I don’t even grow potatoes, nothing. It does not grow, it gets stolen, all sorts of problems. Today, if I grow anything, I only grow grains, because this they do not steal. The TSZ also stole. This gardening now nobody does here in our town.

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Due to societal change the farming traditions have waned, and now the younger generation no longer has the same ties to the land. This in part she blames on collectivized farming (TSZ). Though Viktor’s family identifies with this peasant heritage, it must be taught to the younger generation. After we return to Viktor’s large suburban home to unload the large plastic canisters of wine, Viktor proudly shows the horse harness and the costumes he bought for his two sons. These were specially made, and are expensive. The boys wear a “csikos” outfit consisting of heavy black boots, large billowy white pants, black belt, white shirt with colorful wool embroidered vest, and a large black brimmed hat. This is the third year that Viktor and his family have organized this celebration, but the first in which his sons will participate. Viktor’s 17 and 13 year old sons have been taking traditional dance lessons and horse riding lessons for the past few months. This is an exhausting endeavor especially with the demands of the new school year. They must learn their so-called cultural traditions. “Tradition” as Commentary on Past within the Context of a Post-Socialist Society The festival uses the symbolic image of the peasant to fuse the past to the present and provides social commentary on the process of societal change. As Némedi suggests the peasant is an organizing symbol postsocialism because “Distrust of the democratic political machine, growing resentment with Western type capitalism, yearning for the simple principle of social justice, and renewal of nationalistic sentiments combined with each other are as effective today as 50 years ago” (Némedi, 1995, p. 74). Today’s participants identify with the land yet they are not true peasants. Viktor lives on the outskirts of Budapest in a county where some people keep livestock despite the presence of large suburban homes. Though the horse stall had been transformed into a Veterinarian clinic for Mária néni’s son, she still raises chickens in a chicken coop next to the house. Though Mária néni’s generation still remembers, unfortunately, after a generation of being green grocer merchants, the younger members of the family do not know how to farm the land anymore. Their family name though is well known in the area and reinstating the festival expresses their family connection to the land, the harvest, and the farm but it also takes place within the context of a post-socialist society with cars, globalization, and commercial capitalism. The procession reenacts the past yet displays elements of present day society. On Saturday, the day of the grape harvest festival, everyone meets at the community center at noon so that a professional photographer can take f­ ormal pictures of everyone in their costumes. The procession consists of several men 3.2

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riding horses and three horse carriages, one filled with boys, men, and musicians, the second filled with women, the third with children (See Figures 12, 13, & 14). Most of the passengers stand in the back portion of the carriage; only a wooden plank provides seating for the driver. The procession weaves throughout the small streets and neighborhoods, stopping at various spots for the youths to get out of the carriages to dance and to sing traditional songs as a drummer and an accordion plays. It takes about an hour and a half before they finally return to the community clubhouse. The police escort the procession, blocking off the streets to restrict the car traffic that might spook the horses. Last year a horse kicked a parked Trabant car and left a huge gaping hole in its side. Though the revelers make their way throughout the streets of the local community, the party at the local community center is an invited event consisting mostly friends and family members of the dancers. Most include Viktor’s friends and relatives. The festival now incorporates elements of capitalism in terms of profit, commodities, and social differentiation. After the street procession the dancers and musicians arrive at the Community clubhouse and the party begins. The entrance fee is 500 forints (about $2.25 USD). Only the dancers in costume are dancing. I am told in the older days the adults did the dancing, but now the young adults and children dance the “csárdás” they learned in dance classes. Slowly more people arrive. First families and older people, then later after 10 PM the younger more trendy adults arrive displaying Western mass consumption items. They wear more modern attire such as Levi’s, Nike shoes, and leather jackets – all with the labels prominently showing. Grapes, kifli (bread

Figure 12 The szüreti revelers make their way through out the neighborhood singing traditional songs. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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Figure 13 Though the neighborhood lies within the boundaries of Budapest, this man keeps his horse and carriage in his yard. The two boys wear csikos-style outfits. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

shaped like horns), and pretzels hang from the ceiling laced with Hungarian patriotic colors of red, green and white colored streamers and ribbons (See Figure 15). The people who dance below try to steal the grapes and kifli. Those dressed in the traditional costumes, the dancers who were in the procession, try to catch the “thieves.” The dancers take the thieves to a judge who tells them the fine they must pay. I saw someone steal a pretzel and was charged 400 HUF (about $1.80 USD). The money from this game is seen as a donation

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Figure 14 Riding though the streets dressed in a Csikos costume, Viktor’s son had to take riding lessons and dancing lessons to learn their traditions. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

to support the festival. Prestige also seems to be a factor as those with higher status in the community offer to give more money. A sign posted on the door instructs participants unfamiliar with this game on how to play. The dance couple that catches the most thieves wins a prize. The game fine reveals profit and status markers. The event also includes a link to the market economy by selling food rather than simply giving it away in a form of communal hospitality. Klári and Viktor have been working in the kitchen most of the night and though Klári walked in dressed in her expensive finery, she soon changes into a white smock, and those comfy white clogs most workers wear. She has been cooking fresh pizza all night and she prepared a huge pot of “pörkölt”. She stewed together strips of pork with onions, diced peppers, tomatoes, paprika, sour cream, and a touch of flour, and served it over a plate piled with nokedli dumpling noodles – this dish is seen as more traditionally Hungarian (see also Huseby-Darvas 2003). Furthermore, Viktor had hoped to make a profit, and though the pizza was a big seller, there is quite a bit of pörkölt left over. Viktor and Klári have put a great deal of time, effort, and planning into this festival, yet they spend little time enjoying the event as they work most of the night in either the sweaty hot kitchen or behind the counter serving food and drinks. The food not only sold for profit, but the most non-traditional food, the pizza, was the bigger profit maker. The type of food served shows a reinvention of cultural practices. Though certainly not originally an everyday peasant dish, pörkölt has become associated with traditional culture prepared by men such as shepherds and herdsmen who would make this rustic stew using bacon fat to roast onions over an open fire with strips of beef or sheep meat and paprika. In the Alföld region

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Figure 15 Grapes, horn-shaped bread rolls, and patriotic colored streamers hang above the Szüreti dancers. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

women might prepare the dish at home for húsevö napján, the one day of the week when they would eat meat. Since the 1780s the dish was constantly mentioned as a typical shepherds and peasant’s food. From the turn of the century in Western Hungary it became a popular dish served at weddings and special occasions. (Kisbán, Pörkölt, 2006; Kisbán, 1989). Though originally not a “traditional” dish, over time it has become associated with peasant culture. The word pizza of course is a borrowed word, and describes the Italian dish consisting of bread dough rolled into a round flat shape and topped with tomatoes and cheese. Klári’s version includes a Hungarian adaptation by using slices of Hungarian sausage, Hungarian peppers, and Karavan cheese. In addition, they served the pizza with ketchup on the side. During the summer Klári would run an ice cream stand near the Balaton, where they also made pizza. They saw it as a quick and easy fast food, and something they were used to selling. She specially made the pot of pörkölt for this event as she could prepare it the day before, it would be easier to reheat to sell, and they considered it a more Hungarian style food than the pizza.

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Ironically the peasant festival – a celebration of the past, now represents a capitalist market system. The new celebration is linked to c­ ommercialism – you must pay to enter, you must purchase food and drinks, you pay a fine for the thief game. The new celebration displays consumerism – the “traditional” costumes are very expensive, the younger generation wears Western style clothing with the brand displayed, Klári wears her expensive outfit when she walks in but soon changes into her work clothes, those with money show off their wealth by paying a higher fine than necessary in the thief game. Pizza is the preferred choice of food rather than the more traditional Hungarian pörkölt. Though the festival enacts the past it should be contextualized within today’s society, and from this perspective, it appears to be a way of coping with the post-socialist condition and reconstructing an identity based on a fantasy of the past. 3.3 “Tradition,” Participation, and Reconstructing Identity Post ’89 the new government offered to let collectivized land be returned to its former owners. “But they did not return it, this was a lie!” Viktor shouted. Viktor explained that people did not receive their original land, but rather were given acquisition tickets to reclaim an amount of land, but those more closely connected to TSZ got the better land, and people such as his family, were given much worse land. Viktor believes there was a money making scam behind how the land was given back. “Our land, the land of my grandfather was lost because he did not join the collective farms. The TSZ gave the land to each other.” Certainly he harbors bitterness for the loss of the land and this sense of injustice might shed insight into the peasant as symbolic tie to the land, cultural heritage, oppression and resistance. Postsocialism there is a desire for collective identity especially in response to stress of the transition and this traditional celebration brings individuals together to express a collective identity associated with their pre-socialist past. Each individual has his or her own reason for participating in this festival, yet together they comprise a collective reaction to post-socialist society. Bourdieu suggests that the individual is part of a collective practice. “Each individual system of dispositions may be seen as a structural variant of all the other group or class habitus, expressing the difference between trajectories and positions inside or outside the class” (Bourdieu, Outline of a Theory of Practice, 1999, p. 86). Individual expressions take place within a particular context. Divergent practices and beliefs can constitute a common practice. Despite the diversity of people involved in the festival, they come together to celebrate a peasant tradition. In addition the peasant symbol has multi-vocality in that it can appeal to different people at different levels. Despite different perceptions and perspec-

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tives, the community can have a common link to the peasant symbol because its multi-vocality can appeal to different people in different ways. The multivocality of the peasant symbol draws the group together into a coherent whole. To connect to a peasant identity Post communism, after 40 years of Soviet domination, there is a certain appeal to a figure that both entails a denied tradition, and resists domination. Though peasants may have resisted the intrusion of the state, some found ways to negotiate with the authorities. Post socialism, Viktor realized those who did join the TSZ finagled better land for themselves, leaving his family feeling cheated. In a way this modern day celebration of a folk tradition retroactively creates resistance to the communist era. Though the loss of land leaves Viktor bitter, he still musters a sense of pride. The boys and men in the parade dress as csikós a symbol connecting them to their cultural and perhaps national heritage. Csikós translates as cowboy but represents a link to Hungary’s horse riding traditions. The origin story of Hungary itself tells of seven nomadic tribes traveling on horses. Light et al. in their discussion of the rise of heritage tourism talk about the image of the Csikós carrying this connection to horses and now peasant culture. In the 1970s Csikós became marketed as a tourist attraction in the Hortobágy. Here men would dress as Csikós and perform flinging long whips, or doing horse riding tricks such as riding while standing upright on the horses’ backs. Light et al. explain heritage tourism in the post socialist transition has been affected by the legacy of the socialist past and present-day nation building practices (Light, Young, & Czepczynski, 2009, p. 230). Hence the image of Csikós they argue relates to a general theme of nation building and nationalism during the post socialist era (See Figure 16). While the young men dressed as Csikós in this modest local wine festival certainly do not have the high caliber skills of horse riding as those men performing in the Hortobágy, they might be seen as an example of symbolic nation building reconnecting to an image, albeit invented, of their cultural heritage. Clearly the peasant is an important organizing symbol for Hungarian society today. The symbol of the peasant deals with the current changes by g­ lorifying a simpler past, and reinstating Hungarian identity. There are many reasons why members of this community would construct a collective memory of this harvest festival. For entertainment purposes, it is a fun and lively celebration that incorporates traditional music, dancing, drinking, and singing. Everyone sings along with his or her favorite songs. I asked how they know these old songs; “they just do” was the response I got. They are typical songs sung at celebrations such as weddings. Júlia, married to Viktor’s cousin, feels Hungarian traditions remain constant and strong because “it is in the blood.” Though she was raised in Canada by Hungarian parents, she strongly feels more Hungarian

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Figure 16 This professional Csikos rider performs at the Debrecen August 20th flower festival. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

than Canadian. She proudly states how she surprised the community with her “Hungarianess.” She actively participates in the festival – she is one of the few adults over 20 who wears a traditional costume and she serves as the judge and accountant for the vintage sabotage thief game. She wears a stiff multilayered white petticoat under a richly embroidered red skirt with matching vest. Some women wear red boots but Júlia wears black buckled baby Janes with white opaque tights. Her husband Péti proudly admits to obtaining illegally a government protected feathery leafed plant called “Árvalányhaj” that he sticks in his broad rimmed hat like a plume whereas most of the other men wear sprigs of rosemary in their hats (László, 2006). The szüreti mulatság lasts well into the night as a crowd of drunken older men has put the young accordion player on a chair on top of a table and the rowdy group sits around the musician insisting on singing loud drunken bawdy songs. The party will last well into the next day. The following day Klári tells me about a behind the scenes trauma. Little Fülöp, Viktor and Klári’s youngest son, was not dancing enough with his partner. As a result her parents complained to Viktor and there was a big scene in the kitchen when Viktor yelled at Fülöp. Apparently the men of the dance couples must be constantly attentive to the girl for that evening (kind of like an engagement just for the evening). Fülöp had been infatuated with this girl before, but now he no longer likes her. To make matters worse he and she won

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first prize for catching the most thieves in the vintage sabotage game and so they now have to share the prize cake. This means that Viktor and Klári (being the parents) must go with Fülöp to visit the girl at her parent’s house. After this long night of partying and now cleaning, they are too tired. What an added offense! For community-building, the festival serves as a common bond for young and old and brings together members of a community that often share a cultural connection to farming. It is a social event entailing flirtations (such as Fülöp’s scandal), or assertions of community affiliation (such as Júlia’s claim of being more Hungarian than Canadian). For some it expresses display, prestige, and the skirting of authority (such as the thief game and Péti’s “Árvalányhaj”). For making a profit, it serves as an entrepreneurial venture (such as Viktor’s pizza). A complicated intermingling of different people come together in one space during this limited time to participate in a harvest celebration that mixes past and present. Today’s society may not raise its children to tend to the land, but at least in Viktor’s neighborhood, they have put a strong emphasis on retaining their peasant heritage. Generational gaps emerge as the younger and older generations may have different perspectives particularly in relation to ties to the land. Mária néni laments that the youth today really do not seem to understand what real work is. Today they study to be doctors or lawyers, but in her day, working the land was more important. Though she went to High school, this was not considered important. Here, there was a time when, because every family had their land, the children would go to the land to help their parents. There were very few who studied. Nowadays the youth leave to study. But in my day, there was little worry, because if you did not go to learn, the child was better kept on the land, in order to continue working on your own farmland. Certainly there is a generational gap as the younger generation adapts to a very different kind of society. By fusing the past and present, the peasant festival illustrates the interplay of power and memory in the construction of Hungarian identity. As a symbol of the past, this festival recovers a tie to pre-Socialist Hungary. It represents a tradition denied by the Socialist government. The peasant festival reflects a more recent past, as the Socialist system, the TSZ, suppressed it. It re-asserts a tradition denied during the Communist period. Hobsbawm (1983) suggests an invented tradition can express a political voice and from this perspective the peasant festival can be an expression of resistance. As a peasant practice, it

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entails a strong history of revolution and resistance and now Postsocialism this festival marks the power of these people to reenact a memory that the Socialist period suppressed. People construct identities within the dominant discourse, yet what happens when Soviet society suppressed cultural practices that informed identity? Discourse informs the construction of identity to maintain systems of power (Foucault, Power/Knowledge, 1980) yet for Viktor and his family their Hungarian peasant identity persists in private lives and memories as a counter discourse. They did not put on the harvest festival during the Communist occupation, but now post ’89 Viktor organizes this community event. Now the counter discourse during the Socialist period can burst free in the form of “traditional” expression. The agrarian wine festival association with traditional peasant culture can serve to create an imagined national identity. Hobsbawm and Ranger talked about “invented traditions,” so that traditions that seem original to the culture, that may express its “authentic” cultural identity, may actually be more recent inventions. In some cases, he claims, prior traditional practices could be “modified, ritualized and institutionalized for new national purposes” (Hobsbawm and Ranger, 1992: 6). Nationalism is a cultural construction that can be “imagined” (Anderson, 1991). This imagined national identity draws on the memory of an important Hungarian symbol: the peasant. Following the societal shift in 1989 from a Communist based society to a market based one has led to a renewed interest in folk tradition as people grappled with societal change, and pondered new ways to define cultural and national identity. The wine festival as a type of ritual can be viewed as a microcosm of society that both reflects aspects of the social order and teaches attendees about their culture. Clifford Geertz suggests ritual is both “a model of and a model for” society, so that the ritual reflects the worldview and cultural values, yet also teaches and informs that worldview and value. He states: “[C]ulture patterns have an intrinsic double aspect: they give meaning, that is, objective conceptual form to social and psychological reality both by shaping themselves to it and by shaping it to themselves” (Geertz, 2008: 61). In this respect the ritual can symbolically represent the cultural worldview of the society, but also at the same time society learns its cultural worldview from it. Just as ritual can come to fit the cultural worldview, it also indicates the socio-political context at the time particularly if that society undergoes societal change. At a grassroots level, this ordinary community recreates a cultural practice asserting individual agency and identity. Memory plays a part in re-imagining national identity during the instability of the transition, and this new/old reimagination of a Hungarian identity is part of a revitalization process. This

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grape harvest festival exemplifies how a community of people recalls and reinvents the symbol of the Hungarian peasant to reclaim a lost Hungarian identity. To reclaim a proud and assertive symbol is a way to instill this pride and assertiveness in their own lives in spite of and because of the uneasiness of the society around them. As a presentation of post-Socialist Hungary, this festival shows a desire for collective affiliation during a period of heightened stress. The peasant festival provides an image of the past as it reclaims the memory of pre-socialist Hungarian identity. As a cultural memory it reasserts the power to reclaim a national identity. The politics of memory both at the state and individual level can influence national identity (Tamanoi, 1998). Though the socialist system tried to censor this cultural practice, Hungarians retain a cultural memory of peasants as an important symbol of resistance and pride that serves them well particularly as they cope with the pressures of post-socialist society. On a broader scale, a return towards “traditional” culture is a more global phenomenon reflecting a more general critique of modernity. A romantic view of a pre-modern non-Western society with a picturesque image of the glorified hard working peasant rich with cultural folk heritage, seems to erase the actual harsh realities of the peasant condition. Is this an authentic vision of the past, and if not, why is it important today? Though Viktor’s festival in the outskirts of Budapest expresses discontent with both the Socialist past and post-socialist present, and though it does affirm identity, it does little to change Viktor’s family position. Gerald Creed’s analysis of mummery rituals in Bulgaria suggests that though pre-modern, it has many modern roles including issues related to nationalism. He suggests “the appeal to tradition is not so much a rejection of modern options as an indication of the current system’s failure to deliver the modern spoils they were implicitly promised” (Creed, 2011, p. 205). It expresses a response to postsocialism, and though he sees a connection of nationalist expression, he has an interesting twist, “Mumming’s survival and perpetuation in these contexts is a product of modern processes set off originally by socialist modernization and driven heavily by capitalist processes since 1989” (214). He suggests modernity may by cloaked in p ­ remodern ­traditions revealing alternative modernities that highlights divisions and allows for reevaluation. I suggest that this specific notion of community may have inspired a different understanding of nation, allowing us to posit a contributing factor to Bulgarian exceptionalism (sometimes characterized as “weak nationalism”) in relation to Balkan nationalisms. This alternative model explains why ethnic relations were not immediately improved by Western ideas of tolerance and multiculturalism (2011, 26).

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Though culture shapes political and economic outcomes, “alternative modernities lose their alterity in the process” (27). He suggests local cultural expressions might have facilitated post-socialist rebuilding but did not. To some extent Viktor’s community szüreti festival has a similar outcome as it draws on pre-modern agrarian tradition and alternative modernities. Viktor’s festival celebrates “traditional” agrarian culture, yet as a local variant, surviving in a limited local community, it both serves to balm the wounds of their loss of traditional ties to the land due to Socialist collective farming and perhaps serve as a point of resistance to post-socialist strain by reclaiming pre-modern identity, but in the end it does not change Viktor’s family position, nor regain the land. Under the guise of tradition, it effaces the problems of present day society as well as those of the past. 4 Conclusion In summary, the traditional celebration represents the past yet reinvents the past through the eyes of the present. This szüreti mulatság retains many of the “folk” elements of the traditional festival, yet rather than a continuous tradition it symbolically recreates a fantasy past. Merchants organize and put on the harvest festival not true peasants. They do not wear their “traditional” clothes daily, but rather expensive costumes tailored to look like the traditional clothes. They do not grow grapes nor harvest them, but rather purchase them at a produce market. They do not make wine, but rather purchase it and then sell it at the party. They do not simply dance, but take lessons to learn the traditional steps. Xeroxed signs instruct them on how to play the vintage sabotage game, as most do not know the traditional game. This does not include a free feast, but rather an entrepreneurial venture to sell food and drinks to the participants, not to mention the entrance fee. Most people preferred the pizza to the more traditional Hungarian pörkölt. If this is not a traditional szüreti mulatság, then what is it and what purpose does it serve? The peasant festival expresses their post-socialist freedom to celebrate their peasant heritage as well as new forms of disillusionment. The society postcommunism is in disarray and confusion as it shifts to a market economy. Viktor and his family lost their family heritage, their land. Not only is this a political shift, but also there is a shift in the way people live within this society. Old rules, norms, and practices no longer exist, and in some ways seem to change everyday. It is an expression of distrust and resentment of the shift to Westernized capitalism post ’89 particularly for an older generation who may have at one time thought the introduction of a market economy would

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bring fulfillment, but this image of hope of the past did not come to fruition. Western capitalism did not provide an instant cure to problems arising during the socialist period but rather presents new issues of contention that will take time to resolve. In light of this turmoil, individuals resort to reclaiming a past tradition yet they meld together present day values and practices. The current grape harvest festival blends past cultural traditions with present day marketbased aspirations. The festival illustrates their freedom to celebrate a peasant tradition that was formerly censored yet also their new ability to participate within a global Eastern market. The peasant as symbol embodies Hungarian nationhood and gives refuge to an imagined version of a more simple traditional life. This tradition comforts because it embodies nationhood and empowerment contrary to an unstable society of today. This celebration creates an alternative space that reclaims and reinvents a cultural identity and in the process brings together a community of diverse individuals. Viktor and his family may have lost their land but hold firm to their cultural heritage linked to the peasant as symbol of tradition, identity, and resistance. While on the one hand holding on to one’s past traditions may serve as a way to deal with present day society, it may also be maladaptive. The following chapter looks at the ways the former Communist system affected how people interacted within the healthcare system. Some of these practices persist today leading some towards feelings of alienation that result in a desperate turn towards mystical understandings of illness and healthcare.

Chapter 4

Culture of Communist Past within the Healthcare System: Reorganizing Healthcare and a Mystification of the Body I bought two lovebirds that Csilla néni named Pisti and Kati. I thought that if she had a pet it would give her inspiration to get out of bed. But there she lay, at first happy for the kind gesture, but now complacent to let someone else care for the pets. Eventually even the sweet twitter among the birds annoyed her to the point that she covered the cage with a cloth all day. Her weakened health and depression led her to prefer sleeping all day rather than take part in the daily events of life. I now saw her bed as a prison holding her back from the once effervescently happy person I knew. At points I was worried, sad, and even angry with her (See Figure 17). Csilla néni’s story gives a tangible look into one person’s personal experience within the healthcare system in Hungary. Her story as a senior pensioner traces how the shift from a socialist society to a market economy can contribute to a mystification of the body. Mystification of the body entails a sense of alienation both from the official medical system as well as from confusion over a transitional society so that patients, perhaps in attempts to understand, or take control of overwhelming circumstances turn to unofficial forms of medical support by seeking assistance from friends or neighbors, by relying on herbal remedies and elixirs, and by turning to magic and shamans. This chapter provides insight into beliefs and attitudes towards the medical and healthcare system in post-socialist Hungary. Though this is not an official depiction of the healthcare system, I want to shed light on how this system influenced the life of one person and those around her to engage in a subjective perspective of healthcare services in Hungary, and to ponder how facets of the Communist past remain, yet are complicated by problems in post-socialist Hungary. This chapter argues how confusion and uncertainty linked to both Hungary’s societal change as well as feelings of alienation from its medical system can lead some to seek alternative forms of healing and evoke a mystification of the body that can be understood in terms of understandings of the logic of magic. Folk explanations for causes of illness may supplement the lack of understanding that comes from official medical diagnosis. Through the years of my research in Hungary I have heard unusual health beliefs and practices that may have been exacerbated by opacity of medical diagnosis. I visited Csilla néni with my hair still wet from shampooing, much to her horror. She © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004328648_006

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Figure 17 I bought her birds in hopes of engaging her in life, but instead her bed remained a kind of prison. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

insisted that to go outside with freshly washed wet hair could cause a brain tumor. Her son Ervin had heard that if you swallow the bristles of your toothbrush you could get appendicitis. He did not want to go to school, so he tried this, and ­apparently it worked, as he had to have his appendix removed. An

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acquaintance I met explained that her recent tonsil operation was due to a pair of new shoes. She developed a blister because the shoes were too tight, the paint from the shoe infected the blister, and after drinking some ice-cold water her tonsils began to swell. On several occasions I have seen parent’s take ice cubes out of their childrens’ drinks for fear that the ice might cause a sore throat. Csilla néni’s ex-husband, Felix bácsi, liked to see me cringe as he revealed his pacemaker scar or the mysterious boil that moved across his back. He insisted the small lump on his back would vanish and then re-emerge on various parts of his back. With the back of his shirt lifted Anett néni, his common-law wife, nodded to confirm his claim, and to point to the various places the boil had been on his back. These explanations of illness seem bizarre to me, yet like conspiracy theories, they appear to be commonplace and widely accepted. Just as magic and mysticism may be a response to unsettling social and economic change, it can also be a response to alienation from a problematic healthcare system. Magic can be connected to diagnosis and healing, particularly in situations with unusual or serious illness. Alienation from a problematic medical system due in part to its socialist past and uncertainty of its post-socialist present contributed to a form of mystification. Mystification may be connected to forms of misunderstanding. Lost in a medical system that does not explain illness or gives misinformation, that over prescribes medicines, that expects gratuity money, leads to confusion. The social dynamics of the medical system become obscured. Patients perhaps already disoriented by illness and lack of understanding may seek a way to explain the inexplicable and control the uncontrollable this sentiment being reminiscent to Malinowski’s understanding of magic. Some turn to alternative forms of care indicating a mystification of the body. Magic can be a way to then take control of the uncontrollable or at least a way to make sense of things one does not understand (Malinowski & Redfield, 1948; Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles, and Magic, 1976; Taussig, 1980). In this sense seeking alternative forms of healing may be a way of making sense of, and taking control of things they cannot understand. On a more mundane level, people may resort to other means of support outside of the official medical system by relying on family and neighbors for assistance. Both alternatives signify alienation from the healthcare system. Through Csilla’s illustrative story this chapter aims to explore an evolution of the mystification of the body. Csilla’s story highlights a body politic showing a hegemonic medical system that inspires alienation, frustration, and struggle. At the core of healthcare is the understanding and treatment of the body yet this can be ridden with

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complicated power inequities that may contribute to feelings of ­alienation ­particularly in a transitional society. Illness can be linked to the mind and body, to social cultural conditions, as well as forms of power and resistance. Nancy Scheper Hughes suggests: Sickness is not just an isolated event, nor an unfortunate brush with nature. It is a form of communication – the language of organs – through which nature, society, and culture speak simultaneously. The individual body should be seen as the most immediate, the proximate terrain where social truths and social contradictions are played out, as well as a locus of personal and social resistance, creativity, and struggle. Scheper-Hughes & Lock, 1987, p. 31

Looking at the body as the site of illness can illustrate “social contradictions” such as Hungary’s transitional shift to a market economy. The body may have a biological malady but it is understood and expressed through cultural understandings. Furthermore, the body is linked to a real person who has a unique life story and agency. The body can be a site of struggle between that individual and the healthcare system. Western medicine may appear to be based on objective science, yet it can be a system of power with cultural bias. Patients may perceive doctors as all knowing and leave their healthcare in their hands without question. Furthermore, sociocultural bias taught to doctors, such as gender inequities, influences the patient experience (Martin, 1987). Western medicine, particularly in the United States, tends to see health as achieved rather than ascribed, hence blaming the ill for not maintaining a good diet or exercise regimen (Scheper-Hughes & Lock, 1987, p. 25). The healthcare system can mirror societal strains especially in a transitional society. If understandings of the body can be linked to the type of society, what happens to a society that has experienced rapid change? Katherine Verdery “underscores the role of dead bodies in animating post-socialist politics, as people struggle to come to terms with the profound changes in their environments and their universes of meaning that have ensued from the events of 1989” (Verdery, 1999, p. 20). She looked at the ways in which bodies came to symbolize sites of political tension in light of societal change. In this vein I want to look at the ways healthcare in a transitional society can alienate patient experience contributing to seeking alternative forms of care to cope with cultural uncertainty. The body can be a site for struggles of power particularly within the healthcare system. Patients may become alienated from an overburdened healthcare

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system pocked by over crowded hospitals filled with elderly, over prescribed medication, underpaid doctors expecting tips, liable practices, and misinformation. The transition to a market economy may benefit the younger more technologically savvy generation, yet for those not able to quickly adapt the change has been more difficult. Csilla néni a senior challenged by a limited pension and high inflation in the 1990s had to also factor in growing health concerns. Though state subsidies made public healthcare affordable, the postsocialist transition has troubled the society and its healthcare system manifesting in forms of alienation. If alienation can be a response to societal change, in what ways is this mirrored in perceptions of healthcare? The mystification of the body relates to the individual and the society as well as systems of power. Confusion and uncertainty linked to both Hungary’s societal change as well as feelings of alienation from its medical system can evoke a mystification of the body. This chapter explores mystification of the body in terms of the individual body (the personal life experience), the social body (related to post-socialist condition), and body politic (the patient’s struggle for control within an alienating system). The body can represent the individual body, for example, Csilla embodies her personal unique life experiences. After a brief background introduction to Csilla néni’s story, the first part of this chapter looks at the strains of Hungary’s changing society as people deal with health issues, they are placed within a healthcare system informed by its socialist past. With free healthcare, there was a lack of a medical consumer who could make informed choices. After 1989 with the introduction of a market economy, social gaps widened between those with money who could make informed choices, and those without. The body can be a part of the social body in that society – the historical, political, economic, and cultural – can inform understandings and depictions of the body. In this case, the context of Hungary’s transitional society informs the social body. This section then examines how the body can be associated with this fragmented society. The healthcare system’s treatment of the body reflects this societal fragmentation. If the body can be associated with society, what can happen when this society undergoes dramatic change? This second section looks at the ways in which the patient can be alienated from a hegemonic medical system. Embedded in this is the body politic where the body can be a site for power, hegemony, and struggle. Csilla’s story shows how understandings of the body, life experience, and societal context illustrate frustrations and struggles within a transitional society. Overburdened underpaid doctors encouraged a dysfunctional system that further mystifies the body and understandings of ­illness.

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The third part section explores the following question: if alienation and mystification can be responses to societal change, in what ways is this mirrored in perceptions of healthcare? Alienation has motivated agency as some look for alternative forms of care. Those feeling alienated from the medical system may choose to rely on a culture of communal care from friends, family, and neighbors, or perhaps look to folk beliefs and remedies, or possibly shamans. In the end alternative forms of care supplement state run options. Growing social divisions associated with economic and cultural strains of a changing society contribute to a mystification of the body (See Scheper-Hughes and Lock 1987, Bourdieau 1990, Sharp 2001, Sikstrom 2002). 1

Csilla Néni: Individual Body

I met Csilla néni in 1994 on my first visit to Hungary because her son participated in my dissertation research on Hungarian migrants. I was new to the country and feeling displaced, and she warmly welcomed me into her home. Csilla néni was born in 1933 in a small village near Hungary’s border. In her early 20s she migrated to Budapest where she met and married her husband Félix bácsi in 1955 and had her only son, Ervin, a year later. Through fieldwork, participant observation, and informal interviews with Csilla Néni, her son Ervin, her husband Félix bácsi, and his common law wife Anett néni, I have reconstructed her life story in terms of her health care needs in order to bring some personal insight into health and healthcare practices in Hungary. To protect the identity of these informants, I am using pseudonyms. Standing five foot four, Csilla néni had plump rather than fat features, and an eager laugh. The back of her hair was cut close up to her ears, whereupon longer permed curls of white hair stood in a tuft reminiscent of a French poodle. This was a popular style among women in her age cohort. Though clothes burst from her closet making it difficult to close, she tended to wear the same thing all the time. In the heat of the summer she wore a favorite green and white striped tank top, or a long buttoned front flowered dress. In cooler temperatures she would wear a dark blue polyester skirt with a lavender sweater. On special winter church Sundays she wore a round white fur hat that reminded me of a fuzzy snowball. Though Hungarians like to complain, Csilla néni seemed a rarity, as she preferred to be positive. In the United States if you ask someone how he or she are doing, the typical response is “I’m great. Couldn’t be better.” Even if you are not well, we tend not to divulge this information casually. In Hungary if you ask someone how they are doing, you are likely to get an hour-long

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monologue about their health ailments and the rising costs. In Csilla néni’s case, it was hard for me to believe she ever had problems with depression, as she was the most sweet and positive person I had ever met. Felix bácsi stood five foot seven and any fat he had seemed to accumulate in a very round extended stomach, as he had long skinny legs and arms. He had dark bushy eyebrows in contrast to straight stark white thinning hair that was rather long but worn oiled back to reach the mid of his neck. Whereas Csilla was a bubbly optimist, Felix bácsi was possibly the extreme opposite. While one favorite hobby of his was to shop to compare prices to fill his shelves with clothes still in their plastic wrappings, yet another favorite hobby was to complain. After long conversations with him ranting about rising costs and health issues, I would be exhausted, whereas he seemed rejuvenated. Anett néni, his common law wife, always echoed a sentence after his, typically to repeat what he said, or to verify that what he said was true. Anett néni mirrored Felix bácsi’s temperament in tone and attitude. Anett was only slightly taller than Csilla, and about the same weight, but rather than looking plump she seemed strong and sturdy. She wore her dark brown peppered hair short and straight. Ervin resembled his father with his skinny legs and straight thick hair, yet in spirit he matched his mother. He could be unrecognizable to me without his grin as his smile was a constant fixture on his face. Like his mother, he was always eager to help and quick to laugh. Csilla’s health problems began long before I met her. After her son, Ervin, emigrated illegally from the then Communist-ruled Hungary to the United States, around 1982 she and her husband, Félix bácsi, separated. According to her son, each blamed the other for him leaving. She briefly considered remarriage but her husband refused to give her a divorce, as he believed her suitor was out to get her money. I found this surprising, as she lived on a modest income. Her husband had taken a second job as a taxi driver and just by chance happened to pick up a childhood girlfriend Anett néni. He had known Anett néni before meeting Csilla néni, and had even considered marriage, but when he was sent for mandatory three-year military service, she married someone else. Now that Anett néni had divorced her husband they rekindled their relationship and they moved in together. He did not get a divorce from Csilla néni because he was afraid if he married Anett, her children would want his money and he wanted his son Ervin to inherit his assets. Anett néni was a thorn in Csilla néni’s side. Csilla néni’s parents in law made it clear they wished her husband had married Anett in the first place. It was around this time, in the early 1990s, that Csilla started to have uncontrollable crying spells that resulted in her house doctor referring her to the main psychiatric hospital on the Buda

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hills. Here she received electric shock therapy that she believed took away her ability to cry. Csilla néni’s experience weaves together an understanding of the changing social structure and the social body unraveling an understanding of mystifying the body as a response to societal alienation. 2

Changing Social Structure: Social Body

Introducing socialist healthcare in 1940s Hungary, the communist ruled government aimed to provide healthcare for all. After communism collapsed in 1989, growing divisions arose between those better able to adapt to the introduction of a market economy and those who could not. In addition, dysfunctional problems stemming from the socialist era persist today. Elderly women, in particular, faced ensuing challenges. Resulting social divisions, growing economic strains on impoverished elderly, and societal fragmentation crescendo to forms of alienation from the healthcare system. 2.1 Affordable Care and Social Divisions Socialist society aimed to provide free universal healthcare. When the Communists gained control of Hungary in 1948, Hungary had mainly an agrarian based economy. Through state-driven efforts, vast infrastructural improvements were introduced along with heavy industry. Though there were problems with the state redistribution system, it did provide improvements in terms of some centralized services such as socialized medicine. Gaál describes: Private health enterprises, such as insurance companies and private general practices, were dismantled. Instead, centralized state services were set up in their place. The expectation was that disease would disappear under communism, given a free universal health care service and improvement in socioeconomic conditions. Indeed, measures to ameliorate public health and to control infectious diseases produced substantial achievements through better sanitation and immunization of children. Gaál, 2004, p. 6

Measures were taken to improve the medical system, however by the 1970s, the system became overburdened and service lapsed (Gaál, 2004, p. 7). During the socialist period healthcare fell under the umbrella of the centralized Semashko state control. Nikolai Aleksandrovich Semashko was the Russian

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People’s Commissar of Public Health from 1918–1930 and is credited with establishing the foundation of the Soviet public health system. Following the collapse of communism in 1989, the government established Országos Egészségbiztosítási Pénztár (OEP) or Hungarian Insurance Fund (HIF). The HIF relies on taxes and social insurance to fund recurring healthcare costs. The local government now handles most healthcare services (Boncz, Nagy, Sebestyén, & Körös, 2004). All Hungarian citizens are covered for some services but co-payments or additional fees may apply (Fergussan & Irvine, 2003, pp. 1–2). Though the Hungarian medical system may have problems, by Western standards it is affordable leading some emigrants to return to Hungary for affordable medical treatments. Andi, a 25-year-old woman, was living in the United States for two years when she developed a serious medical problem. She and her husband could not afford the medical costs in the US, and despite her pain, she flew back to Hungary for the medical procedures. The first thing she told me on her return to the US was that she did not know she had to bring her own eating utensils. Louis, a 40-year-old male, lived in the US for 12 years playing music in Jazz clubs. When he developed a brain tumor he started passing out and having epileptic fits during performances. Soon other musicians stopped inviting him to play and he had to resort to playing music on the streets in Chicago and New Orleans. He became too sick to support himself and without insurance he was unable to pay for expensive treatments, therefore he returned to Hungary to recuperate and receive medical treatment. Whereas emigrants may have returned home for cheaper medical procedures, some non-Hungarians from Western countries came to Hungary for less expensive care. On a visit to Sopron in 1996, I learned about Hungary’s dental tourism. Herrick recounts, “Sopron, Hungary, less than an hour’s drive from Vienna, Austria, caters to medical tourists. Sopron has more than 200 dentists and 200 optometrists, 10 times as many as would be expected in a town of 20,000 people” (Herrick, 2007, p. 5). Sopron had numerous dental offices that catered to the nearby German population who came to have dental work performed in Hungary because it was cheaper. Connell observes: “In some destinations, including Hungary and Mauritius, medical tourism possibilities are advertised in in-flight magazines and standard government tourist publications, on the assumption that tourists might avail themselves of small-scale procedures such as dentistry during otherwise standard tourist visits” (Connell, 2006, p. 1098). The dentures were beautifully made, and it seemed that most elderly Hungarians had them. My neighbor, upon asking if my teeth were real, pulled out her dentures to show me her false teeth. I had seen a Hungarian news story on television that told of a 20-year-old woman who went to the

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dentist and was shocked after waking from anesthesia to discover that all her teeth were pulled out. Whereas in the United States the mentality may be to try to save the teeth, in Hungary it was easier, and less expensive, to pull them out. Hence I was surprised to learn that Westerners would come to Hungary for dental procedures, but the higher medical costs of Western countries made Hungary an affordable alternative. Furthermore, specialized private medical offices that catered to medical tourism had more sophisticated technology than a typical Hungarian office made for the average Hungarian citizen who relied on state run facilities. Though Hungary provided more affordable healthcare there have been growing divisions between those who could afford private healthcare and those who could not. Although there were more expensive dentists with state of the art equipment, Csilla néni had to rely on affordable care. In 1996 I spent a year in Hungary and was able to follow Csilla néni in some of her regular activities. I would go to church and grocery shopping with her, and I would also occasionally accompany her to visit her doctors. When we first met her teeth were full of metal caps and she did not like to smile for the camera. When I returned in 1996 she had a beautiful set of new teeth and she was thrilled to show off her new smile. I accompanied Csilla néni to her dentist to adjust her new dentures. Typically one did not have a doctor’s appointment so the patient simply showed up at the central health care facility at the times the doctors were present. This bigger facility was located a half a mile from Csilla néni’s apartment. As we waited in the outer waiting room, we ran into her friends and neighbors (See Figure 18). One was waiting to see the eye doctor, and another had stomach pains. After waiting several hours to see the dentist, he suggested we go to his private practice to do the final adjustments. Located among a series of tall apartment buildings, his dental office appeared to be a converted one-bedroom apartment on the third floor. As anyone entered or left the small waiting room, the patients stated in unison “good day” and “good bye.” We had an appointment time, but it was really first come, first served. As there was no receptionist, the patients in the waiting room buzzed to unlock the main door to let patients in. The dentist politely invited me to see the dental room where I observed, instead of a typical cushy reclining dental chair, the patient would sit on a simple wooden chair. There was no electric spitting bowl, or suction tool for the saliva. As I was waiting, I could hear the drill drilling and huge clouds of what I believed to have been tooth dust came floating into the waiting room through the half open door to the dental room. The few patients that were waiting seemed to be in extreme pain as they were bent over with their hands holding their mouths. Csilla néni was next, it was quick, she was happy, and I

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Figure 18 Towards the end of the day, the local medical center’s waiting room empties. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

was happy to be leaving. After 1989, there were more expensive private doctors with the latest technology, however, pensioners such as Csilla néni had to rely on what they could afford. Wealthier individuals or people from Western countries were able to afford the more advanced care indicating growing divisions between people, between economically weaker and stronger countries, between individuals with money and those without, and between generations. Societal strains ooze postsocialism from economic and cultural tensions dysfunctionally peaking into symbolic fragmentation kindling more interest in alternative healthcare options. 2.2 Post-Socialist Strain The shift to a market economy contributed to growing divisions between people that affected individual wellbeing. Some socialist subsidies have been eliminated along with growing financial expenses making health care more of a strain for a pensioner such as Csilla néni. With the transition, the state can no longer afford some of the socialist perks enjoyed by the elderly such as the strand – a hot mineral water pool where Csilla néni would make a lunch and make a day of it. Sometimes she

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would take extra fruit from their garden to sell there. In part due to Turkey’s 150 years of occupation, Hungary has many Turkish style spas with natural mineral waters. The spas are known for having special healing properties, especially for people with joint and muscle aches. Elderly people, such as Csilla néni, could receive special free passes from their doctors. However by 1997, the government announced it would no longer provide this service. The cost at the time was 350–700 forints (approximately 2–5 USD), but on a fixed 100–200 USD monthly pension, this would be a luxury many could no longer afford. In the summer of 2012, the cost was 2,000 to 3,000 forints (about 10–15 USD), leaving the pools to be filled more with Western tourists than retirees. Psychologically the strand was a nice social outing but also it had physical benefits to soothe Csilla néni’s aching legs. Without subsidies the gap between those who could afford and those who could not widened. The onset of a market economy created added economic strains for a retired pensioner such as Csilla néni. In 1988, at the age of 55, the legal age of retirement, Csilla néni started collecting her pension, but since then the retirement age has been raised to 62 (Molnár, 2005, p. 148). As no check writing system existed in Hungary, once a month the mailman delivered the pension money in cash. With this money, approximately 100 USD a month, she had to pay for her basic expenses but after 1989, with the introduction of a market economy, inflation rose rapidly in the 1990s making it more difficult to make ends meet. Rédei M. Keszthelyiné estimated the medical expenses in 1999 per household: “medicines 56.7%, medical aids 9.2%, health services 4.9%, gratitude money 7.1%, personal toilet articles 16%, personal toilet services 6%, durable personal toilet articles 0.1%” (cited in Széman, 2004, 10–11). Furthermore, the government did not design pensions to account for inflation costs and many elderly pensioners have tried to supplement their income with low paying jobs (Széman, 1989). Though she lived on a modest pension from the state, in 1993 Csilla supplemented her income by delivering meals to invalids. Each neighborhood district had a central social service welfare office (Házi Gondozás). This office provided services for the sick and home bound, but especially the elderly. Csilla néni’s job was much like the American “meals-on-wheels” program but without the wheels. She would take the local bus six stops to pick up hot meals put into metal boxes that could be stacked and locked together, to be carried by hand like a bucket. She would then take the bus and walk to hand-deliver the meals to various people enlisted in the program, spend a little time talking to the people, and pick up the empty containers from the week before. In 2001, 1.9% of the elderly population over 60 years of age with limited mobility received this meal service (Széman, 2004, p. 13). Along with a modest salary of $30 ­dollars a

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month Csilla was allowed to have one of the meals for herself. Csilla was doing well during this time: she would go to church two to three times a week, shop at markets located over an hour’s commute across town for the cheapest prices, carry heavy bags on crowded buses, visit friends, lay flowers at the cemetery an hour away, and help friends harvest from their gardens. I had trouble keeping up with her. Despite the physical strain of her job, and the modest supplement to her pension, she was happy. Life became more difficult for Csilla néni due to Post-socialist stress on the economy along with her increasing health problems. By 2003 she began to complain that her feet were swollen and delivering food became too much effort. She happily found a job cleaning the local school, however, this was also a physically demanding job as she would have to carry heavy buckets of soapy water, get on her knees to scrub floors, mop, and sweep. Despite this, she enjoyed working around the children. In addition a mother hired her to walk her 5-year-old son home from school and watch him until she returned from work. Csilla had no grandchildren of her own, and especially loved small energetic boys that reminded her of her own son when he was a child. By 2005, unfortunately, the school decided to lay off the senior citizens, because they had pensions anyway and the school wanted to make room for younger employees. This form of ageism was not uncommon as several of my elder interviewees concurred. Csilla néni was 72 at the time. Even though she never made a lot of money, the loss of her job not only hurt her income it was a blow to her self-esteem. Strains from the post-socialist transition can be reflected in personal experiences such as Csilla néni’s, and perceptions of the body can emulate these societal strains. Understandings of the body rooted in the form and type of society illuminate how societal fragmentation may trickle down to symbolically fragment the body. 2.3 How is the Body Associated with a Fragmented Society? The body can be associated with society and can embody issues of health and illness. The body is a site for healing. Alienation from a changing society and problematic medical system can contribute to a mystification of the body as patients grapple with finding solutions and understandings while under medical duress. How is the body associated with society? The type of society may influence perceptions of the body. In Emily Martin’s book The Woman in the Body (1987) she suggests there is subjective bias as ­socioeconomic metaphors seep into explanations of health. For example ­medical textbooks use the analogy of a factory for understanding the composition of a cell (Martin, 1987). She argues

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I have sketched a transformation in embodiment, from Fordist bodies held by disciplined order in time and space and organized for efficient mass production, to late capitalist bodies learning flexible response in rapidly collapsing time and space, bodies which nonetheless contain (contradictorily) increasingly sharp and terrible internal divisions. Martin, 1992, p. 347

The type of socio-economic context hence serves as a metaphor for understandings of the body. Furthermore with societal globalization, time and space conflates, and this fragmentation is emulated in descriptions of the body (Martin, 1992). Capitalism and especially globalization can create societal alienation and fragmentation and this fragmentation can be mirrored in the body. Marx argued a commodity is “a mysterious thing, simply because in its social character of men’s labour appears to them as an objective character stamped upon the product of that labour; because the relation of the producers to the sum of their labour is presented them as a social relation, existing not between themselves, but between the products of their labour” (Marx, 1887, pp. 46–47). Commodities are “social things whose qualities are at the same time perceptible and imperceptible by the senses” (Marx, 1887, 47). Furthermore “The whole mystery of commodities, all the magic and necromancy that surrounds the products of labour as long as they take the form of commodities, vanishes therefore, so soon as we come to other forms of production” (Marx, 1887, 49). In small-scale societies with communal practices, social connections, reciprocity and redistribution, the “magic” that surrounds commodities “vanishes.” The worker becomes fragmented or alienated from production as commodities conceal or abstract the labor process for profit. Emily Martin asked is there an end of the body? By this she meant that with the shift from a Fordist to post industrial global economy, patient’s discourse reflected societal fragmentation in their discussions of the body. They described the illness in their body as if it were not a part of them, as if it were out in space (Martin, 1992). Sikstrom, in her study of embryonic stem cell research, argued that the medical rhetoric “fragments the human body into a series of “replaceable parts” while at the same time mystifying it, and imparting it with symbolic significance” (Sikstrom, 2002, p. 10). Furthermore, Sharp found the medical system’s use of metaphor mystifies and fetishizes the body as a fragmented commodity (Sharp, 2001). The body is the patient, the site of illness. The body becomes disassociated from the person as a unique individual with his or her own life experiences and emotions. Doctors learn to distance themselves from the human aspect of the patient, perhaps as another form of coping with possible attachment

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and possible emotional grief if the patient worsens and dies. The body within capitalist postindustrial society mirrors fragmentation associated with globalization, and mystification associated with Marx’s understandings of capitalism (See also Sharp, 2000, Sikstrom, 2002). The communist system established a healthcare system that was accessible for all citizens and though some of the roots of this socialist system remain, the healthcare system has had to adapt to a market based economy. The shift to a market economy created new challenges such as high inflation in the 1990s and fewer socialists’ perks. Csilla néni’s modest pension had to be supplemented with a part time job. Growing expenses and weakened health contributed to Csilla néni’s relying more on an already strained medical system that could contribute to forms of alienation and to mystification. 3

Alienation: Body Politic & Hegemony

If the body can be associated with society, what can happen when this society undergoes dramatic change? Following the collapse of communism in 1989, the medical system had to be reorganized to fit the changing market economy; however, there are patterns and practices developed during the communist era that remain. Currently, according to London, the medical system struggles to fund a dysfunctional system of “excessive consumption of medicine and medical services, rampant bribery of doctors, and barriers to private investment” (London, 2010, p. 2). Distrust, misinformation, and a problematic healthcare system frustrates to the point of alienation. 3.1 Excessive Medicine and Bribery Excessive consumption of medicine and bribery in Csilla néni’s experience illustrate scars of a dysfunctional system. Shortly after her son’s marriage in 1999 Csilla began to complain of headaches and seemed to be relapsing into a health decline. Csilla néni lived in a typical socialist-built building made up of a cluster of six towers on the outer rim of Budapest. Within the complex was her házi doktor (house doctor) conveniently located steps away from her building, making it easy to visit daily. This was a common design within the Socialist plan in Hungary to have a general health care practitioner assigned to each neighborhood whereas other health care specialists might be located a bit further away. Her son worried that she was getting hooked on the daily injections she received from the general care doctor, but in fact they were probably coming from the main nurse. She had formed a fond connection to the nurse and

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even asked her son to bring gifts from the US to give to the nurse. Several times he brought perfume, and on other occasions bought a nice watch and a religious necklace. Since doctors and nurses were poorly paid during the Socialist period and still are, it became a common practice to slip the doctor or nurse money or give gifts. The practice of giving under-the-table money to healthcare practitioners started during the socialist period. In that time hard to find material objects, such as perfume or soaps from the West, would be a typical gift. A bottle of American whiskey or brandy would be a good gift for a male doctor. I hesitate to use the word “bribery” as that implies a moral wrongdoing. The Hungarian word protekció describes this process, but I have also heard it referred to as zsíros pénz (grease money) and some more politely refer to this as “gratitude money” (Ferguson and Irvine, 2003, 4; Szemen, 2004, 10; Boncz et al. 2004, 256–257). Though the patient or family member might give the doctor money in a subtle way, such as slyly handing crumbled bills via a handshake or discreetly slipping bills into his large white smock pocket, people do not see this behavior as improper because everyone does it, and the doctors expect it. When I visited Csilla néni’s husband in the hospital after he checked in due to complications with his pacemaker in 1994, Félix bácsi commented how the nurses and doctors were ignoring one man because he had not given them their monetary tips. After one visit, a man who worked at the entrance told me visiting hours were over despite the sign on the door stating otherwise. As I was leaving anyway I did not understand what he meant, but Ervin later explained the man probably wanted me to give him some sort of payment – something like a tip or a bribe. During the socialist period the centralized state, funded through state redistribution, made socialized medical care free for all citizens; however, patients then and now are expected to give “under the table” gifts to medical staff. Doctors expect gifts in part because they do not make much money. In 1996 I volunteered in the American International Assistance office. At the time mostly students came to seek advice about applying to go to American colleges, but one day a doctor came in to have me read a personal statement he had written to apply to US hospitals. He initially wrote 100 letters to US institutions and received 22 responses and he intended to apply to these 22 institutions. His spoken English was excellent but he needed help with his written statement that answered the question, “Why is it important to come to the US?” He argued that he had interests in infectious diseases and Hungary had limited training in this area, he could improve his English skills, and it would be an interesting experience for his family. After he left, Júdit,

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the Hungarian in charge of the American assistance office came in and gave a different story. This same man had came in last year for assistance, and he had told her he wanted to immigrate to the US because doctors were paid more. Hungarian doctors have been increasing applications to work abroad (Feher, 2011), and had threatened to strike for better wages on January 1, 2012. The hard work, coupled with low wages, inspired some to emigrate. Over prescribing medicine, under the table “gratuity” payments to doctors, and a possible “brain drain” indicates another sign of a problematic health care system. Stories of questionable practices may further contribute to feelings of uncertainty and distrust. 3.2 Questionable Practices Dubious practices and crowded hospitals may be a factor in patient’s feelings of uncertainty and distrust. In 1994, Csilla néni’s husband checked into the cardiology hospital. After stalling all week to have the swelling in his feet examined, he went to see the doctor, who then refused to let him leave. I arrived with Csilla néni at 11 AM as visiting hours were from 11–12, and 4–6, but he was missing. Nervously laughing, none of the medical staff could explain what happened to him. Soon we discovered the doctor was giving him some tests. Anett, his girlfriend, had gone home to get his pajamas, toothbrush, eating utensils, and a roll of toilet paper. I looked around to see that each night table next to each bed had a private stash of juice, soda, spoon, knife, fork, newspaper, and toilet paper, all coming from the patients’ private homes. Four beds lined opposite sides of the room, making a total of 8 beds. As there were no curtains to create privacy between patient beds all confidential conversations, sponge bathing, and bedpans were made public for all in the room. A complaint by international students training in Hungary’s health care system was, not only the lack of curtains, but the high rate of smoking among doctors and nurses, and the lack of dental hygiene (Németh, Máte, Differlné Németh, Pozsgai, Kivés, & Sütö, 2009). The especially hot sultry summer day and lack of air conditioning, led each man to remove his nightshirt revealing a similar pacemaker scar across his left chest. The doctor scheduled Félix bácsi to stay for two weeks though they planned not to start any procedures or exploratory surgery until Monday or Tuesday. It was Friday, and he had to spend the weekend, as hot as it was (40C, 104F) waiting here. A week later Anett néni updated me on Félix bácsi’s operation. Not only had several men already died in the room in which he was staying, but also the hospital forced him to stay there unnecessarily. The surgeon who did the first procedure went on vacation and no one else wanted to take over Felix bácsi’s

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case, therefore Félix bácsi could have potentially waited in the hospital for two weeks before anything would have been done. However, a week later, Ervin learned his father did not need an operation and the doctor sent him home. No one could give me a clear answer as to what the problem was, but Anett néni and Ervin interpreted the doctor’s diagnosis as related to improper installation of the original pacemaker. The especially high rate of cardiovascular disease in Hungary can be linked to the society’s transitional status and perhaps patient sentiments of insecurity and higher levels of stress. Kapp et al suggest the higher cardiovascular death rates among Hungarians compared to other Europeans (three times higher) may be linked to psychosocial determinates associated with the rapid socioeconomic changes after 1989 (Kapp, Skrabski, Szántó, & Siegrist, 2006). However, poor nutritional habits established before 1989 are a general health problem in Hungary due to a preference for traditional salty fried foods (Rurik, 2003; Kiss et al., 2003; Bálint et al., 2010). The crowded cardiovascular hospital room in which Felix bácsi stayed was one indication of this prevalent health problem and the burden it created for the health care system. From the patient and his family’s perspective it could have been an unpleasant experience that contributed to feelings of uncertainty. Doctor’s insensitive medical practices may have further alienated patients. Ervin wanted time off from the army so he ran outside in the winter with his mouth open but this plan may have backfired. Though he did have his tonsils removed, the army doctor did not give him anesthesia and simply told two other soldiers to hold his head down. If that was not bad enough, the doctor even got mad at him for spitting blood on him. On another occasion Ervin went to the dentist to have a tooth pulled, and the dentist pulled out the wrong tooth. Csilla néni’s persistent illness, along with a culture of medical mishaps, lead her and her family to believe she was not being properly treated. Unfortunately, a clear diagnosis was never given, and her illness persisted. What might be liable for medical malpractice cases in the US, seems to be commonplace and widely accepted in Hungary. The patient appears susceptible to a problematic healthcare system. Misinformation and withholding information also contributes to a dysfunctional healthcare system that perpetuates mystification of the body. 3.3 Misinformation and Withholding Information Misinformation and withholding information added to feelings of frustration causing some to believe in conspiracy theories and develop a general distrust

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of the medical system. Csilla néni’s husband Félix bácsi was 75 years old when he died in 2004. In 2004 the life expectancy for males was 68.60, whereas for females it was 76.90 (Index Mundi, 2012). For 2016, this projection increased for Hungarian males to live to 71.96 whereas females would outlive males to 79.62 (www.cia.gov). Hungarian males had a high rate of mortality due to heart diseases, digestive problems, liver disease, and suicide in part due to lifestyle choices including smoking, alcohol consumption, and diet (Gaál, 2004, pp. 8–9). Anett néni recounted her frustration with the Doctor’s inability to give a clear explanation and almost degrading mockery of Felix Bácsi’s death. She explained that she and Felix Bácsi rushed to the hospital via an ambulance the week before he died only to have the doctor chastise him for wasting his time. “Go home, nothing is wrong with you,” she recounted the doctor saying and they were embarrassed to have bothered the doctor. However, the next week when Felix bácsi did indeed die, the same doctor had the nerve to tell Anett, “I told you his illness was serious.” The doctors refused to tell his son Ervin why Felix bácsi had died. As he had died after being rushed to the hospital, the hospital had the right to perform an autopsy without the family’s consent, however, his son never received a clear explanation other than that he had “water in his lungs.” I suspected it might have had to do with his recurring heart problems. Ervin believed they removed the pacemaker from his father to recycle in some other patient. This sounds beyond belief to me, but he insisted this happens. Doctors could withhold information and patients as a response may develop conspiracy theories to explain the vague diagnosis. Not understanding one’s illness seemed to be a common problem. Later when Csilla néni’s health declined, the doctors could not give a clear diagnosis. By this time she stopped going to church. She stopped visiting friends. I had to plead with her to leave the house. I was convinced this was another bout with depression and believed that with encouragement she would return to her regular optimistic self again. She kept describing having headaches and the doctors kept prescribing what seemed like way too much medication. I asked for the doctor’s prognosis but she could not tell me, or at least I did not understand. She said there was a calcium buildup in her neck that was blocking blood flow. I wondered if this was an example of how the doctors tended to avoid clear explanations. For instance, during my research in Hungary, I had known four people who died of cancer at ages 18, 45, 70 and 80, who never clearly understood the extent of their illness or cause. Not understanding the cause of one’s illness may be associated with a history of distrust in the state system. Krista Harper interviewed Hungarian environmental activists, and when asked why they became politically engaged,

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many recounted personal stories associated with Chernobyl and their fears about having been unwittingly exposed to toxic fallout (2001). There is some folklore about the bearing of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster on the development of cancer in Hungary. On April 26, 1986 the Chernobyl nuclear power plant in the Ukrainian SSR exploded and, unbeknownst to the citizens, a toxic cloud floated over Hungary. Though some say that the political Communist elite knew and took measures to protect themselves, the citizens did not find out until after the fact from Western sources. Ervin claims that the children’s sandbox in the Communist tenement was emptied and replaced the day after the event, indicating the authorities knew it had been contaminated. Many remember what they were doing that day innocently unaware – one woman I interviewed remembers picking cherries and eating them straight from the tree and worries whether one day she will get cancer. Doctors may withhold information contributing to a general mistrust of the authorities. The word “cancer” carries such a stigma in Hungary that people are afraid to talk about it, leading the government to run a propaganda campaign in 2003 to banish this shame. Doctors told the parents or spouses of the ill that the patient had cancer yet the patient him or herself would not be informed. Pál, Csilla’s nephew, had been told his grandfather was sick, and within a month he was dead. The doctors never said what he had, only that he did not have long to live but Pál believes his grandfather died of cancer. Many people believed doctors withheld information contributing to a general tendency to dwell on conspiracy theories (See Ghodsee, 2011). Yet there may be some truth to their concerns as Viktória Kun, a journalist, exposed gross negligence and a dysfunctional medical system that led to Hungary having the poorest cancerrelated mortality rate in Europe. Personal connections, where one lived, gratuity/bribery money, over and under medication, and misinformation could affect cancer survival (Kun, 2004). Authorities withholding information or misinformation could lead to feelings of conspiracy and distrust. Though there are abuses within the medical system such as misinformation and general distrust, the patients themselves may contribute to further bruising healthcare practices. 3.4 Patients May Abuse System The trauma of losing her husband may have added to Csilla’s health decline, and her overuse of the healthcare system may indicate a call for attention. Though Félix bácsi had been living with Anett for years, Csilla néni still saw him as her legal husband. When she was well, she would make frequent visits to his apartment delivering homemade soup or a bag of grapes from her friend’s

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garden. When she was ill, she would make frequent phone calls requesting he visit. Her calls became so frequent it got to the point that Félix bácsi called his son in the US to ask if he could return to deal with his sick mother. At his funeral, Csilla néni appeared more in shock than sad. She was especially upset at her inability to cry or to express sadness for, despite being separated, she still had close bonds to her husband. After the judge decided the inheritance, she seemed bitter because though she and her son inherited the property, Anett inherited three years of his pension. Though monetarily this did not amount to much and certainly her son had the means to give Csilla financial aid, it seemed to symbolically reaffirm Anett was the real wife, not Csilla néni. Thus, even though she had not lived with her husband for years, his death was a great blow to her. Following his death Csilla néni made frequent, possibly unnecessary, visits to the hospital. Though the healthcare system may be frustrating to patients, the patients themselves may contribute to burdening the system. The year following Félix bácsi’s death, Csilla néni was in the hospital and when I visited her she asked me to bring yogurt, juice, and keksz (a cracker like cookie). The hospital supplied meals, typically chicken soup, a roll, and perhaps some rántott csirke (fried chicken cutlet), but patients brought in their own food, pajamas, and towels. There were three elderly women in the room, and each had their stash of food on their side table. One of the women told me she was not really sick but simply was tired and wanted to be cared for, so she called the ambulance to bring her in. Prior to this stay Csilla néni had also gotten in the habit of regularly calling the ambulance to carry her to the emergency room. Knowing how expensive this would be in the US, I was surprised this was done so casually. Sovenyi et al suggest, “health and social services in Hungary were considered a right of citizenship. In 1993, one in five Hungarians spent an average of 12.4 days in hospital. It is believed that this policy promoted lengthy hospital stays and removed the responsibility of home care from the family” (Soveny, Szegedi, & Druskoczi, 2005, p. 1). Though Csilla néni’s son was deeply concerned about her health decline, he also perceived her frequent use of the ambulances as unnecessary and perhaps an attempt to get attention. Certainly the elderly may need additional care, yet they may also have been taking advantage of a health system that was already strained. Cultural practices may respond to societal change and may help explain the impact of societal change on perceptions of health. The individual body as illustrated in Csilla’s story of health decline can be related to personal changes in her life, and due to the loss of her husband, but also added societal strain in terms of the declining value of her pension and frustrations with a

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problematic medical system as expressed in the social body. Individual practices can express agency, and how Csilla chose to respond to her difficult situation, illuminates the body politic, and a mystification of the body. 4

Mystification: Body Politic & Agency

Though Hungary’s healthcare system provides affordable care, it can be alienating to the patient. Mystification is a response to alienation due to frustration, confusion, or an inability to control, and in terms of a mystification of the body in Hungary, this may be a response to not only a confusion with a transitional society but also the healthcare system’s tendency for misdiagnosis, over prescribed medicines, and under-the-table tips to the doctors. Alienation encourages alternative understandings and approaches in an attempt to make sense of the confusing and for individuals to take control of their lives. Seeking forms of healing outside the official medical system may be ways the oppressed seek to take control of their lives such as relying on one’s community, folk health beliefs and antidotes. Beliefs in the supernatural and magic can be attempts at controlling the seemingly uncontrollable (Malinowski & Redfield, 1948), to explain unfortunate events (Evans-Pritchard, 1976, 1979), and to understand societal change (Wallace, 1956; Taussig, 1980; Ong, 1987) and in this regard, alienation to the healthcare system may inspire some to seek supernatural care. 4.1 Community and Culture of Care Neighbors have customarily provided help for the elderly in Hungary. The government initiated homecare in Hungary in 1997 including “professional nursing care, physiotherapy, speech therapy and hospice care” for a sliding scale fee per visit with a base price of 2850 HUF (Boncz, Nagy, Sebestyén, & Körös, 2004, p. 254). However, according to Lakatos, one in seven of the elderly population relied on neighbors for nursing care (2000). Of those over the age of 60, 34.4% relied on neighbors, and 19.2% relied on friends for help. Institutional help was highest in Budapest (8.2%) as compared to the countryside villages (3.3%) (Széman, 2004, p. 14). Adult children and family members had social and legal obligations to care for elderly relatives until “The Act on Local Government of 1990” that enlisted local authorities to deal with basic healthcare, and “The Act on Social Welfare of 1993” that initiated a new welfare program. Local authorities as well as voluntary associations now provided services for those in need. These programs were incorporated into the existing

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socialized medical infrastructure. Though private doctors became available following the fall of communism, most elderly living on limited incomes could not afford private healthcare and preferred to rely on the kindness of family, friends, and neighbors (Széman, 2004, p. 8). As Csilla’s mysterious illness progressed she depended more on friends and neighbors for assistance. By 2007, though she had once worked delivering meals to invalids, she was now receiving meals at home. Since most people used microwaves to heat up the food, the meals were packed in plastic boxes rather than the tin boxes she used to deliver. A social worker nurse would come visit her and she rarely left the apartment now. She stopped eating the delivered food as she complained she did not like it, so her son, arranged for a modest fee to have a neighbor prepare and deliver food. On my first day back she mustered up the energy to go outside, however subsequently it was a challenge. After a long series of struggles trying to motivate her to be more active, I reached my breaking point when we planned a visit to the cemetery to visit her husband’s gravesite. She wanted to go, and arranged the time and date, but when I arrived she was still in bed. It was around this time that I purchased the lovebirds. I thought that if I could get her to focus on something else it might inspire her to engage in life. She asked her neighbor to care for the birds and eventually gave them to a friend of her son. Csilla became more reliant on friends and neighbors to help her. Her son tried to hire in home care, but she did not like strangers in her small apartment. As was common in the old Soviet style apartments, the living room doubles as the bedroom. The bed would be folded away into a couch each day, but now Csilla’s bed was always left open and there was barely room to walk around it. Several nurses quit. The city sent several home care providers to check on her, collect her laundry, and monitor her medicine intake, and once a week help her to bathe. The neighbor who brought her food would regularly visit and help her in any way she could. In Hungary there was a strong tradition of family obligations in terms of caring for an ill parent or family member (Széman, 2004, p. 14), but her husband was gone, her only son lived in the US, and most of her relatives lived far from Budapest. Despite living in the US, her son enlisted the help of his friends still living in Budapest to check in on her so that two of his boyhood friends, both also single children, became surrogate sons to her. Out of desperation, Ervin tried to take his mother’s medical care into his own hands. His friend worked as a medical technician that did CT scans and even though her own doctor did not refer her, Ervin asked his friend if he could arrange the CT scan as a special favor for him. Friends and neighbors became important supporters for Csilla’s wellbeing.

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Though Csilla néni still depended on social services provided by the state, she preferred to get assistance from friends, family, and neighbors. Relying on folk diagnosis and remedies can indicate another form of alternative care. 4.2 Folk Diagnosis and Remedies Relying on folk diagnosis and remedies may be related to the turbulence of a society in transition. Kürti suggests the turn to alternative healing methods may be due to cost. “With the continual rise in drug prices and the costs of medical care, Hungarians have found good reasons for turning to faith healing and alternative medicinal practices, all of which now utilize both printed and electronic media to boost sales and create popular demand” (Kürti, 2001, p. 330). I would add, however, that often doctors did not give clear explanations for one’s illness. People may be seeking other ways in which to take control of their health issues with their own understandings of illness and alternative home remedies. Folk remedies may be an alternative to the official healthcare system and a response to societal change. In Hungary I have visited salt mines said to have healing properties (See Schofield, 2004), drunk foul sulfur smelling water said to cure heart and stomach ailments, and been whipped with stinging nettle plants to sooth joint pain, though I was told using the stinger of a bee would also work. And if one was stung and wanted relief, Ervin said urinating on the sting would relieve the pain. Chewing fresh tarragon helps digestion, and apparently cures hoof and mouth disease in cows. Csilla’s sister insisted she cured the growing cataracts in her eyes by stinging them with the soapsuds from a popular brand of soap (baba szappon). Csilla slept with a baseballsized pink crystal under her pillow and a small prayer book by her side. Next to Csilla’s pile of prescription bottles were alternative remedies such as ginkgo biloba tea and Hungarian herbal elixirs such as béres csepp. Kürti explains: The name of the “Béres Drops” may not be familiar to Western ears, but to most Hungarians it conjures up images of the miracle drug, a potent mixture of herbs and (secret) ingredients that can successfully fight cancer. The Béres family, operating several major pharmaceutical companies throughout Hungary, is a textbook example of how new, post-communist entrepreneurs have operated. By all accounts one of the richest family clans in Hungary, the Béres family started its business in the 1980s by manufacturing small bottles of tinctures that were claimed to be a natural blocker to the growth of cancerous cells. Under the last years of state socialism, most people only laughed at the idea, while the desperately ill

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were already hooked. The family tried in vain to obtain scientific credibility as well as a permit to operate legally. But (and this is where we can see the cultic milieu’s influence on daily politics and the society at large), as soon as the tight control of food, drugs, and the medical system started to crack, the Béres family found more and more supporters. They came not only from among the elderly and the desperately ill who sought a cure and were in need of pain killers, but even from people who had no illnesses but who had begun to take the Béres drops which were becoming a hot commodity on the black market for their beneficial effects. As one young enthusiast claimed, “If it doesn’t hurt, why not take it?” Kürti, 2001, pp. 330–331

As Kürti suggests, after the fall of communism the turn to and gradual societal acceptance of alternative medicines became more prevalent. He claims this is part of a supernatural fad related to the political and cultural context of Hungary’s changing society. Csilla néni also had a unique explanation for her illness. Csilla néni believed her illness worsened as a result of a Gypsy woman’s curse. Csilla néni had a job as an afterschool caretaker for this woman’s younger son and Csilla loved caring for this vibrant energetic young boy but had to quit, as she could no longer keep up with him. When this woman learned Csilla’s son lived in the US, she sent him a photograph and asked if he could find her a husband. He did not. Later when Csilla started to get ill, this woman offered to be a paid caretaker. Ervin did not trust her and decided to hire someone else. Csilla believed this woman retaliated by cursing her. On several occasions Csilla worked herself into an emotional state insisting the only explanation for her illness was this woman’s curse. At first I was shocked at this claim and tried my best to soothe her fears, explain this could not be possible, and calm her down. In retrospect, I understand her frustration with not understanding why she was ill, and not understanding why she was not getting better. The doctors could not give her a clear explanation of her illness, and referred her to a psychologist. Ervin spoke with the psychologist, and although she was very kind, she seemed to suggest it was Csilla’s fault for being ill. Clearly she had depression, but Csilla also insisted she had physical pains; she could not sleep yet she was constantly fatigued; and she had painful debilitating headaches. The multitude of medicines did not help; the doctors could not help, what else could explain her illness? Folk diagnosis and folk remedies may be a response to trying to make sense of and trying to take control of health issues that are difficult to understand. In some cases people have turned to supernatural explanations and sought assistance from shamans.

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4.3 Shamans Health, illness, and healing are connected to the body, and in some cases magic. A shaman is typically a part time practitioner trained in healing methods that can include herbal medicinal knowledge, setting bones, and magic healing which may entail going into a trance to achieve spiritual guidance. The shaman uses magic to cure illness for the body is a site of illness but also a site for magic. Malinowski suggests: “Magic is not only human in its embodiment, but also in its subject-matter: it refers principally to human activities and states, hunting, gardening, fishing, trading, love-making, disease, and death” (Malinowski & Redfield, 1948, p. 56). Furthermore, “It may be here mentioned that the human body, being the receptacle of magic and the channel of its flow, must be submitted to various conditions” (1948, 57). As he suggests, with disease and death the body is the site of healing and the “receptacle of magic.” Out of desperation, Csilla néni resorted to alternative healers to ease her pains. With a recommendation from a friend, Ervin took Csilla néni to a female healer. Ervin recalled, “When I first saw her, I thought she was young but when we got closer we realized she was old. She just looked young from a distance.” Ervin said there were some weird moments that seemed to suggest she did have supernatural abilities, such as when they were looking for her house, she suddenly appeared and started to wave for them to come in. “How did she know we wanted to see her? We were talking to her in the house and she got up to walk towards the phone before it started to ring. I asked her about this and she said she can sense when someone is going to call.” She said she had spirit guidance. Unfortunately she said she could not do much for Csilla néni until Csilla could get off all the medication the doctors had prescribed, but she did massage her neck making her very sleepy. Csilla néni had been complaining that she could not sleep and now she asked if she could sleep there. However, the healer charged 1,000 Forints ($4 USD), so Csilla néni was not too eager to go back. She was hoping for a quick fix and it did not happen and given her fixed income, this was a lot of money. The female healer criticized the over prescription of medication, suggesting the medical system itself may have been partially to blame for Csilla’s illness. On the other hand, a spiritual healer, knowing most clients may be seeking her out as a last resort, may want to affirm the patient’s doubts and fears of the medical system. Furthermore, the growing inflation weakens Csilla’s income, making her hesitant to pay a healer. Her neighbor recommended another healer with whom I was able to meet in 2000. He would consult with her for free, but she could give a donation if she wanted. He was an “Ingas ember” – a pendulum man – because he uses a pendulum much like a diviner uses a divining rod. A short 63-year-old man with short white hair and clear brown eyes wearing a brown suit jacket with

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a knit vest handed me his business card stating he was a qualified masseur, reflexologist, ground radiation tester ( földsugárzásmérő), life counselor, and reiki ying yang master. He put the pendulum over Csilla’s medication and after it vibrated over the calcium vitamins, and the andoxin pills, he told her these were bad for her. He also used an L shaped rod to check energy and suggested her headaches were due to a bad alignment of energy that could be improved if she moved her bed. He claimed he could diagnose one’s health by looking at the patient’s eyes. He became a “táltos” (shaman) nine years ago after he had a stroke. After reading a book about the evils of chicken soup he began to follow a strict vegetarian macrobiotic diet and learned more about healing and health. He brought in a large black satchel much like a doctor’s medicine bag and pulled out various Xeroxed articles and booklets to show us. Much like the previous healer, he subtly critiqued the medical system for prescribing medicines that may be causing more harm than good. He also verified his qualifications and training by giving anecdotal evidence and by handing out literature that appeared to legitimate his healing techniques. Csilla néni did not like that she was not the center of attention and interrupted several times to insist we eat. Finally she said she did not need his help and returned the papers he gave her stating, “I don’t want these.” Despite her abrupt rudeness, he politely said 80% of the people he talked to think he is crazy. Trying to make a good impression, he did a quick reading. Using the rod he suggested Csilla néni might have problems with her neck and head, and Ervin and I might have problems with the stomach area. He must have sensed my apprehension as he reassured me he was simply trying to help. He touched my arm, looked intently in my eyes, and said I had a brightness at birth and that if I took care of myself I would have a long life. He presented himself as a professional whose only concern was the wellbeing of the patient and seemed to disguise the fact that this was a money making venture by making payment optional. I could see his kind, optimistic, and unassuming demeanor might appeal to someone who was ill, hopeless, and looking for some sense of control and understanding in light of a confusing dysfunctional medical system. Societal change, coupled with a problematic medical system, may have inspired some to grasp for meaning and understanding in their own way. They may try to self diagnose, or to try home cures. They may want to depend more on a community of care from family, friends, and neighbors. And out of ­desperation, perhaps turn to supernatural explanations and remedies. Societal disruption, alienation, along with failing health may have made Csilla distressed enough to cope the best way she could. Cultures may respond to societal change by looking towards mysticism, and this societal change and

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mysticism could be a factor in a mystification of the body in post-socialist Hungary. Various theories see mysticism as a response to dramatic societal change. 4.4 Responses to Dramatic Societal Change Societies that undergo rapid forms of change may look to former supernatural belief systems in order to give meaning and hope. Anthony Wallace suggested revitalization movements were attempts to make sense of societal change (Wallace, 1956, p. 265). Examples might include nativistic movements or cargo cults where the society, in an attempt to make sense of a society in flux, the culture may revert back to prior spiritual beliefs. However, their interpretations of the present that rely on the past may not be accurate, indicating a disjuncture of understanding. The cargo cult, for example, resulted when the people of Melanesia did not understand why the Japanese and Westerners were bringing cargo. They believed if they marched like the Western soldiers, and built things that looked like airplanes, their spiritual ancestors would bring them cargo as well (Wallace, 1956). Societal change can cause cultures to grasp for understanding in terms of past beliefs as a way to come to terms with and cope with uncertainty and confusion. They may turn to the supernatural for explanations. The uncertainty of societal change can contribute to alienation and a push toward finding solutions through supernatural explanations. Taussig connects understandings of magic to societal change and alienation. He claims mining is a dangerous activity where one might resort to magic or belief systems to give a sense of control or protection. However, in Taussig’s discussion of miners’ rituals to honor the devil, he suggests these are rituals of the oppressed as they struggle to understand and adapt to a changing society. Proletarianization of peasants into miners and the modernization of Indians have led not to a disenchantment of the world but to a growing sense of its destructiveness and evil as figured in the devil. Mining rites embody and attempt to transcend this transformation; they act out history and are rituals of the oppressed. They do so under the spell of magic that points to nature’s complicity with liberated man [. . .] Nature and social relations have been and continue to be distorted. Both are a­ lienated from the balance that should obtain in ideal conditions like those approximated in contemporary Andean peasant communities. The miner’s rites of production and misfortune exemplify this alienation and the demand to transcend it. They can be seen as healing rites, both in a literal sense

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and in the metaphorical sense of their healing the wounds and contradictions inflicted in Andean culture. Taussig, 1980, pp. 155–156

Magic in this sense functions as healing rites not only to heal the sick but to balm difficulties of societal change that bring feelings of oppression, loss of control, and alienation. Shifting to a capitalist market economy through modernization, and proletarianism, contributed to these miners’ disjuncture between the past and the new, and between nature and the society, as they understood it. This alienation contributed to a desire to transcend it through healing rituals aimed at not only physical wounds but societal ones as well. He suggests The interpretation that I wish to elaborate is that the devil-beliefs form a dynamic mediation of oppositions, which appear at a particularly crucial and sensitive point of time in historical development. These beliefs can be thought of as mediating two radically distinct ways of apprehending or evaluating the world of persons and of things [. . .] In exploring the distinct metaphysical and ontological connotations proper to each of these domains, use-value and exchange value, we will inevitably be led to contrast precapitalist folk mysticism with that form of capitalist mystification Marx sardonically labeled commodity fetishism. Taussig, 1980, p. 18

Taussig uses cultural Marxism to understand how indigenous persons make sense of a society that no longer makes sense to them. The people of his study negotiated within this society using their own understandings of magic. Folk mysticism translates capitalist mystification and commodity fetishism as a response to a changing society. Post-socialist societies have been undergoing dramatic societal change that has inspired some to turn to magic. Bourdieu suggested to look at magic as interrelated to other aspects of society (1990), hence a society in flux could be related to resurgence in magic practices. Linquist, drawing on Bourdieu, looks at magic as “a set of practices that are pervasive and widespread among the people of all walks of life. These practices are thoroughly instrumental, shaped by particular cultural ‘logics of practice’ ” (Linquist, 2000, p. 316). Linquist looked at commerce from the perspective of a small trader in post-socialist Russia to discover that underlying the nature of commerce were issues of danger and hope, which inspired the use of magic. She argues, “In coping with

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danger, and in the face of pervasive distrust, the faculty that allows persons to cope and persevere is not ‘trust’ but ‘hope.’ Hope, here tentatively defined as ungrounded faith in good outcomes, is nourished by magic, and therefore it should be seriously considered as one of the key elements of this peculiar logic of practice” (2000, 317). This, she suggests, is a direct response to a shift to a capitalist market economy based on market competition and unpredictability creating an environment of uncertainty and risk (2000, 318). Though Russia’s Soviet economy had risks, the post-socialist market economy had more. “If trade had been like gambling in Soviet times, now it would better be compared to walking a mine field, Market competition tended to be resolved not only through price setting and quality of goods, but also by hiring paid killers. According to a popular saying, the most dangerous profession was now that of a businessman” (2000, 333). The magus cured the patient, whom she diagnosed as having an energy blockage that stymied her business ventures. Societal change, in this case post-socialist society, can create situations of uncertainty, and risk, that may inspire the use of magic as a measure of hope. Drawing on these discussions of magic and healing in light of societal change brings insight into Hungary’s healthcare system and brings understanding to Csilla’s turn to alternative forms of healing. How is Societal Alienation and Mystification Mirrored in Healthcare and the Body? Disorientation due to societal change can cause feelings of alienation that may inspire people to explore alternative explanations for illness and alternative forms of healing. Looking for medical options outside the realm of state healthcare providers may be attempts to control the uncontrollable, and to explain the inexplicable, hence emulating understandings behind the logic of magic. Early anthropologists have long pondered what purpose magic may serve, and why people turn to magic, to suggest there was a logical reason (See also Tylor, 1871; Frazer, 1890). Bronislaw Malinowski suggested magic might be used in unpredictable circumstances as a way to give a sense of control over the uncontrollable (Malinowski, 1948, See also Gmelch, 2000). Evans Pritchard found magic could provide meaning for things one could not explain (EvansPritchard, 1979). Taussig suggests a society undergoing change may undergo forms of alienation, or a disjuncture of understanding. Using cultural Marxism, he explores indigenous people’s alienation motivated by societal change to Western Capitalism resulting in their mystification of it by misinterpreting market economic principles as magic money that grows, and devil contracts to explain why some suddenly profit (Taussig, 1980). In a health care system 4.5

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with ill persons unable to make sense of their own illness, it is not surprising for some to grasp for some sense of control. As Sharp and Sikstrom suggest, alienation from the healthcare system can result in a mystification of the body (Sharp, 2001; Sikstrom, 2002). In cases of an unusual or serious illness, or one that does not respond to medicines, one may turn to magic for assistance. In many societies magic may be used along with medicinal remedies. Evans-Pritchard argues: Azande attribute nearly all sickness, whatever the nature, to witchcraft or sorcery: it is these forces that must be worsted in order to cure a serious illness. This does not mean that Azande entirely disregard secondary causes but, in so far as they recognize these, they generally think of them as associated with witchcraft and magic. Nor does their reference of sickness to supernatural causes lead them to neglect treatment of symptoms any more than their reference of death on the horns of a buffalo to witchcraft causes them to await its onslaught. On the contrary, they posses an enormous pharmacopoeia (I have myself collected almost a hundred plants, used to treat diseases and lesions, along the sides of a path for about two hundred yards), and in ordinary circumstances they trust to drugs to cure their ailments and only take steps to remove the primary and supernatural causes when the disease is of a serious nature or takes an alarming turn. Evans-Pritchard, 1976, p. 195

Magic can serve to explain an illness one does not understand. Csilla néni, for example, did indeed rely on western medicine for help, but when her illness could not be cured or explained, she suggested a Gypsy woman cursed her. In cases of illness, magic might enable patients to feel a sense of control over an illness that one appears unable to control. Malinowski argues that magic: gives man the power over certain things . . . Man, engaged in a series of practical activities, comes to a gap; the hunter is disappointed by his quarry, the sailor misses propitious winds, the canoe-builder has to deal with some material of which he is never certain that it will stand the strain, or the healthy person suddenly feels his strength failing. What does man do naturally under such conditions, setting aside all magic, belief and ritual? Forsaken by his knowledge, baffled by his past experience and by his technical skill, he realizes his impotence. Yet his desire grips him only the more strongly; his anxiety, his fears and hopes, induce

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a tension in his organism which drives him to some sort of activity [. . .] His organism reproduces the acts suggested by the anticipations of hope, dictated by the emotion of passion so strongly felt. Malinowski & Redfield, 1948, pp. 59–60

When one does not feel able to understand, “he realizes his impotence,” and due to anxiety may attempt to gain control through magic. Malinowski goes on to suggest “The function of magic is to ritualize man’s optimism, to enhance his faith in the victory of hope over fear. Magic expresses the greater value for man of confidence over doubt, of steadfastness over vacillation, of optimism over pessimism” (Malinowski & Redfield, 1948, p. 70). Magic may give a sense of hope when things seem hopeless. It is not uncommon for non-Western societies to perceive a close interconnection between diagnosis, illness, healing, and magic, particularly when disease is perceived as a misfortune (See Foster, 1976). In post-socialist Russia, Linquist found the magus (shaman) she studied worked “with incurable diseases like psoriasis; and she treats infertility and grave drug addictions” (Linquist, 2000, p. 329). When Csilla reached the state of hopelessness, she resorted to alternative forms of healthcare. Dramatic societal change may contribute to feelings of helplessness and confusion inspiring some to seek understanding through magic. Furthermore, the body can be the receptacle of magic, and shamans use magic to cure especially troubling illnesses that do not respond to medicines. The following looks more directly at mystifications of the body within the healthcare system. 4.6 Healthcare and the Mystification of the Body Alienation and fragmentation of the body may inspire the patient to seek alternatives. In Sharp’s study of human organ donors she states “The human body is a common target for metaphorical thinking in biomedical practice in the United States, where elaborate rhetorical constructions frequently cloak the more troubling aspects of human suffering. Death in particular is heavily mystified, where medical slang objectifies and thus dehumanizes patients, denying simultaneously that dying is a natural outcome of life” (Sharp, 2001, p. 112). In response to this dehumanizing process, the surviving donor family members have made attempts to reinvent, humanize, and symbolically control the organ donor process. Through “their own alternative memorials, donor kin disrupt the professional silence that cloaks donors’ deaths. Their memorials insist on radically different constructions of the good death, bearing the potential to transform the anonymous dead once again into social creatures” (Sharp, 2001, p. 129). The alienation, fetishization, and fragmentation of the

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body inspired people to construct alternative responses. It was a way to control what was seemingly out of their hands. Csilla turned to friends and neighbors to help her because she was not satisfied with the care she received from the state healthcare system. Supernatural explanations may indicate a societal coping mechanism within a changing society. Kressing in his study in Ladakh argued the increase of traditional folk healers could be viewed as a coping mechanism related to foreign influence and change that had resulted in stress in the region (Kressing, 2003). Lászlo Kürti suggests that after the country opened up to the West after 1989, there has been a rise in neoshamanism linked to “the social milieu of the last decade of state socialist rule and its aftermath” (Kürti, 2001, p. 322). During the socialist period people were more reticent to accept psychics, faith healers, and seers, yet after 1989, peoples’ attitudes have shifted towards seeking alternative answers (Kürti, 2001, pp. 333–339). “[The] current evils – a breakdown of social values, unbridled capitalism, consumerism, and the threat of Westernization – must be fought with the spiritual strength which is outside the accepted and mainstream culture. In their view, nothing serves this purpose better than alternative values, lifestyles, and religious practices which provide both explanations for the past problems and solutions for the present ills of the world” (Kürti, 2001, p. 339). Seeking alternative healthcare may be an attempt to understand the past and present, to understand illness, and take control through spiritual strength. Following the fall of communism there has been an increased interest in alternative medicine. Buda et al. suggest, “alternative medicine is being more broadly used, and is not just for simple-minded, low-income desperate people”, whereas Lazar suggests it is a response to the post-socialist condition (Buda, Lampek, & Tahin, 2006; Lázár, 2006). Lázár argues Hungary is caught in a liminal stage, not socialist, not yet capitalist, and the combination of old with new affects psychological well being and perceptions of health which may make ritual healing methods, even unconventional shamans, particularly reassuring (Lázár, 2006). All of the above seem probable explanations, but I would also add the general feelings of distrust towards medical authorities as ­instigating people to try alternative methods and take health matters into their own hands. Alienated by a changing society and a vulnerability at the hands of the medical system may lead to a mystification of the body. Just as Hungary shifts from a socialist to post-socialist society, the shifting society may affect ­interpretations of the body. Particularly in changing societies there may be reinterpretations as people grasp for understanding and meaning in their lives (Wallace, 1956;

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Ong, 1987; Taussig, 1980). With societal change comes disrupture, where “key signifiers are strategically out of joint with what they signify” (Taussig, 1980, p. 5). Taussig goes on to suggest, “Marx pointed to the same disarrangement and rearrangement between us and things in the fetishism of commodities” (1980, 5). From a Marxist perspective, a capitalist system of production veiled systems of social relations. Capital is not natural, but rather a system of surplus, supply and demand. This alienation, or mystification masks hegemony. Just as the social relations of production become mystified, Hungary’s medical healthcare system, a form of production, a system transitioning from a redistributive form of socialized medicine to a market driven economy, has also mystified the commodity – the commodity being the body itself. Nancy Scheper Hughes suggests, “the mind/body dichotomy and the body alienation characteristic of contemporary society may also be linked to capitalist modes of production in which manual and mental labors are divided and ordered into a hierarchy. Human labor, thus divided and fragmented, is by Marxist definition ‘alienated,’ and is reflected in the marked distortions of body movement, body imagery, and self conception” (Scheper-Hughes & Lock, 1987, p. 22). The commodity, the marketed item in terms of health, can be the body itself. Alienation from the medical system may inspire patients to seek alternative forms of care. Csilla’s story shows how she came to rely on a community of friends and family. With a lack of understanding, people may self diagnose and self medicate with alternative medicines, and in some cases, much like Csilla néni, they may refer to shamans. Alienation from a changing society, and in particular a problematic healthcare system, contributed to a mystification of the body. 5

Csilla Néni’s Fall: Individual Body

In 2008, after being primarily bedridden for a year Csilla néni’s bones and strength had weakened. What would have been a minor fall as she got out of bed one night, resulted in splintering her leg. She laid on the floor all night crying for help, but no one heard her cries. Her neighbor made her regular visit to check on her only to find her writhing in pain on the ground. After her initial stay in the hospital, it was decided she needed more time in a rehabilitation hospital before returning home. She certainly could not care for herself with her leg in a cast and her son feared she might fall again. Her son could not immediately return and risk losing his job, and he reasoned her injury was not life threatening. He intended to return to Hungary as soon as he could

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get time off. In the meantime, he enlisted his friends and neighbors to find the best private hospital for her. Csilla néni told her son that if she did not go home immediately, she would certainly die at the hospital. Most of the elderly would rather stay in their homes than be sent to a facility but many families are no longer capable of caring for an elderly parent or relative due to especially long working hours (over 8 hours a day) as well as their own family obligations (Széman, 2004, p. 11). In this case she did not have any relatives living near Budapest. Blasszauer suggests: institutional homes for the aged are “perfect schools for rapid aging. Some Hungarian health administrators call them “the places for collective dying”; others refer to them as “houses for the poor or forgotten people.” In Hungary no humanistic care for the elderly has developed yet that would secure old age against existential fear and anxiety. Blasszauer, 1994, p. 14

When I had heard that she was in the hospital I was concerned but certain she would recuperate from a broken leg. Less than a month after being put in the rehabilitation hospital, just as she predicted, she died. She was 75. I went through various stages of grief, including anger. I was mad at her for leaving, I was mad at the medical system, and I was mad at myself for not realizing the seriousness of her disease. Renato Rosaldo’s famous piece on headhunter’s rage (Rosaldo, Death in the Ethnographic Present, 1988) shows how the grief of losing his wife in a tragic hiking accident allowed him to understand the process of mourning, grief, and anger. He became concerned that “ethnographers tend to flatten their accounts, distancing themselves from the tears and agony, as they seek out the lowest common denominators that make all funerals not different from one another but the same” (Rosaldo, Death in the Ethnographic Present, 1988, p. 425). He argued for exploring the death as a human process and to add the variable nature of bereavement. The priest that would oversee Csilla’s funeral went on vacation for a month. On the one hand I was sickened that she could not be put to rest sooner, yet also relieved that I could finish my teaching schedule and still be able to fly back to Hungary to attend the funeral. The family asked me to take photographs. I realized that taking photographs allowed me to distance myself from the event, yet also at the same time engage in it (See Figure 19). The lens fogged up several times, as my tears were uncontrollable. Though I will not go into the funeral itself here, I feel it is important to note that her life and death affects me deeply. To this day, I still look for her amongst the crowd of permed white haired women. She has inspired my research. I wrote this piece because I wanted to understand what happened to her, and I wish I could have helped her more.

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Figure 19 The family asked me to take photographs during the funeral, and in a way it helped me distance myself from my sorrow. The men on the bikes carry the shovels they use to dig the graves. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

6 Summary Embedded in an understanding of the mystification of the body is the interconnection between the individual body (Csilla), the social body (post-­socialist Hungary), and the body politic (hegemony, alienation, and resistance). Healthcare systems can fragment the body; associate the body as a commodity that can alienate the patient (Martin, 1992; Sharp, 2001; Sikstrom, 2002). The patient fails to see that there are sets of oppressive social relations behind the healthcare system linked to exchanges of money for commodities. The commodity, in this case, is the body. Doctors receive a salary to care for the body. Overburdened underpaid doctors may lose touch with the human subjective experience of the patient. With dehumanizing the experience, the body becomes fragmented from the real person with a subjective life story, family and friends (Martin, 1992; Sikstrom, 2002). Longing for a sense of real social relations, perhaps alienated from the official healthcare system, and from a society in transition, patients may attempt to take control of their own bodies (See Sharp, 2000, 2001). Much like Csilla néni, they may look for alternative forms of community care through friends and neighbors, through self-­selecting alternative medicines or treatments, and through supernatural healing. With the disorientation of societal change to a capitalist market economy and feelings of alienation within the medical system, patients such as Csilla

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néni may grasp to understand what they find confusing, and to control what is out of their hands by seeking forms of healthcare outside the official system. Hungary’s socialist rooted healthcare system provided affordable care. Given Csilla’s socioeconomic status, the Hungarian healthcare system gave her medical care and attention that most likely would have been too expensive for a person without insurance in Western countries. Many people from the West, including some émigrés, go back to Hungary to receive medical treatment because it is more affordable. On the other hand, there are many cultural problems within the medical system, stemming from its socialist past as well as new economic problems postsocialism, that lead to feelings of distrust, uncertainty, and alienation. Both patients and medical staff abuse the system – patients wanting special favors using gratuity money, and doctors accepting it. Distrust of medical authorities, that may give the wrong prognosis and the wrong prescriptions, lead patients to feelings of conspiracy or sheer lack of confidence. Yet the doctors are overburdened and underpaid. Some doctors seek jobs in the West for better salaries. Those patients with more resources or political pull can push for better health treatment, whereas those without resources, such as Csilla, cannot. Frustration and alienation from the healthcare system inspires a mystification of the body. Some have resorted to taking health matters into their own hands by looking at alternative forms of healing, and folk explanations for health problems. This chapter does not give a thorough understanding of the healthcare system in Hungary, nor do I have any suggestions or solutions for its improvement. I do not want to suggest the American system is better, as it too has its benefits and dysfunctional problems. Rather, the aim was to explore Hungary’s healthcare system as a complicated human process affected by its Socialist past as well as its post-socialist present. Understanding illness and healing in terms of the logic of magic coupled with alienation can help explain why an ailing individual such as Csilla may seek to control the uncontrollable, and explain the inexplicable to unveil a mystification of the body. While this chapter explores the way the socialist past may inform understandings in present day society, the next examines the ways people reinterpret the past in the form of Communist kitsch. Generational and cultural divides underlie the kitsch-ification of Communism to indicate the complicated nature of memory and power.

Chapter 5

The Kitschification of Communist Material Culture: Politics Reinterpreted ‘What might be under this green and white fuzzy blanket?’ Fábry Sándor queries mischievously to his audience. ‘Old Marxist categories come to mind, of who defeats whom . . . (Fábry, 1999)’ On post-socialist Hungarian television, Fábry has a ‘Tonight Show’ style talk show (Esti Showder) with a recurring comic skit he calls the ‘Dizájn Center’ (Design Center). In this skit he looks at nostalgic material items, especially Soviet era electronics such as portable personal sun tanning machines, old reel tape recorders, old pinball machines (‘Flipperek’), and East German razors that pulled hair rather than shaving it. Tonight he has selected three audience members (Kriszti, Tomi, and Zsuzsa) for what he is cryptically calling a ‘somersault’ race but will soon be revealed as a washing machine race. This washing machine race accentuates the inadequacies of the Russian Evreka brand centrifuge laundry spinners that tended to bounce about the room if the wet clothes were not perfectly balanced. The washer race is both an absurd, yet nostalgic look at the difficulties of the past. Communist kitsch can be seen from many different perspectives such as humor, as longing for elements of the past, and as subversion of former authority, but ultimately it softens the past. This chapter argues that Communist kitsch gives insight into a desire for collective understanding about both the communist past and post-communist present, yet it also highlights a cultural ambivalence towards both much like a carnivalesque turn that can affirm a repressive system yet also parody and mock it in the form of Communist kitsch. I am creating the term ‘kitschification’ to describe the process in which material culture symbolically reflects a reinterpretation and disempowerment of past powers. This reinterpretation creates a fantasy of the past and highlights the intricate connection between memory and its responses to present day social, economic, political, and cultural contexts. Kitschification creates a multivocal key symbol reflecting multiple perceptions (East, West, Generational, class, political, etc.) and is expressed in multiple ways (retro fashion, everyday material items, tourist items, etc.). The kitschification of Communism evokes various understandings of nostalgia in material form that underscores reinvented commentaries on the past that neutralizes political complexity. Based on fieldwork observations in Budapest as well as insights from established informants, this chapter looks at material objects formally associated © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���6 | doi ��.��63/9789004328648_007

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with the Socialist era that people now view as kitsch. Printed materials, websites, restaurants, shops, tourist sites, and souvenirs, along with personcentered interviews give insight on Communist kitsch as it sheds light on understanding struggles over the intersection of the past and present. Pisti (b. 1957) would call to let me know when Fábry’s show aired on TV, and though I being an American often do not understand Fábry’s humor, I could see his appeal. Pisti’s quiet demeanor often leaves him disappearing at the sidelines of a group, but when spoken to he gives an air of soft-spoken nobility and intelligence that defies his poverty. He wears fine designer clothes bought from the imported used clothing stores that became popular in Budapest a couple of years ago and gives refined comments on quality of the red wine purchased from the local Budafok wine caves in recycled empty plastic soda bottles. His lean body frame makes him appear taller than he is, and his balding hair makes him appear more serious than he is, as when he laughs he has a silly toothy grin and his eyes widen with childlike sparkle. When I told Pisti I was interested in exploring Communist kitsch, he looked up several places on the Internet and accompanied me on visits to several “retro” themed cafes, and Communist tours. These are not places Pisti would typically go to, but he enjoyed the opportunity to explore them with me. Having taken a flexible interest mortgage from a Swiss bank to purchase a home for his mother, Pisti, like many others, had not anticipated the rising interest rate of the Swiss Franc. The mortgage crisis starting in 2008 created insurmountable debt well over the value of the home itself forcing Pisti to seek minimum wage work in Germany and rent out his apartment trying desperately to support himself and his mother. Pisti knew a Hungarian friend who had emigrated to Berlin years ago who told him that he could deliver newspapers for 780 Euro a month. Unfortunately you must have a German address to get work, “And it was not possible to obtain a physical address in Berlin, so I went to Hamburg.” He registered using a friend’s address but still struggled to find steady work and make enough to live on, eventually he returned to Budapest but still considers going back to try again. He explained it is more difficult to get a job in Hungary “because of the recession mainly. It is also because of the condition of the labor market. The older one gets, there are more and more younger people always wanting to work.” He believes that you need to speak English to get a good job in Hungary, and regrets that he studied German while a student during the Socialist era. “Well, when I was in the first level of high school, I went to German class. So there was this choice to specialize learning a language, and at that time students mainly chose English or German. It was my misfortune that I chose German.” At the time it seemed like a good decision as he had some familiarity with the language because his Grandfather spoke

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German, but he also thought it would be helpful to get work in Germany. “And well, this was always in people’s head, that here is Germany, it is close, maybe you could go to work or there might be something to do there. Well it was not possible to go [to the West] but there was the Austrian border. But it is interesting that one could not even go out, and yet people were thinking it was good to learn German because it might be used.” Even though it was difficult for most people to travel to the West during the Socialist era, people like Pisti thought about travel and the potential to work. Post socialism, and with EU status, it is now possible to work in the West, but for Pisti, it has still been difficult. In my interview with Pisti in 2013, I was surprised he claimed his participation with the Young Pioneers was the best period of his life, yet in retrospect I can understand his nostalgia for the Communist era as he has struggled in today’s society. I use Pisti’s story as a way to further explore Communist kitsch, as a form of longing for a past way of life, mockery, and style. Multivocal symbols, such as Communist kitsch, appeal to disparate groups and entail multiple meanings. For someone like Pisti there can be feelings of nostalgia for a past way of life less stressful than today, yet for a younger generation who did not live through the Communist era, there might be an attraction to Communist kitsch as a form of retro style. Still for an American like myself there can be an attraction to Communist kitsch as representing the cold war image instilled from American propaganda. The process of kitschification contributes to effacing the political complexity of the socialist and post-socialist condition yet different people have different perceptions of it. This chapter explores Communist kitsch as illustrating a collective ambivalence towards the post-socialist condition by (1) reinterpreting time and space, (2) symbolizing the cold war ‘other,’ (3) creating fantasized spaces, (4) and by representing a cultural and generational divide. Material objects can evoke meaning yet also comment on the past as illustrated in Fábry Sándor’s humorous ‘design center’ routine that pokes fun at Soviet era electronics. The Hungarian tourist industry seems to promote Communist kitsch to appeal to Western perceptions of the cold war ‘other’ creating an identity to appeal to the Western consumer. However, there is a trend among Hungarians to use Communist kitsch to preserve a collective memory of everyday life practices. This image of everyday life takes form in fantasized representations of the lived experience that use Communist kitsch to create retro themed spaces such as cafes and restaurants. Perceptions of Communist kitsch differ: The Western tourist has a different perception than the local Hungarian. There is also a generational divide between those old enough to have experienced socialism and the younger generation who are more accustomed to a globalized economy. This chapter looks at the implications of turning former symbols of oppression

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to kitsch in order to address the multivocality of Communist kitsch as it sheds insights into the past and present, identity, and power. 1

Communist Kitsch

Though certainly not all formerly Communist countries experienced communism in the same way, we can still gain insight into understandings of Communist kitsch through Milan Kundera’s perspective: a complex mixture of apathy towards an oppressive system yet also sentimentality. During the Communist era, Kundera suggested that Communist kitsch in the Czech Republic was related to a complacency people appeared to have towards an oppressive system (Kundera, 2004). He describes how some people went along with their everyday activities, and they participated in Communist events, regardless of whether they firmly supported Communism or not and he found this disturbing. By going along with the system, Kundera posits they were not challenging it. From this point of view Communist kitsch can be understood as a form of dangerous apathy. Communist kitsch can entail multiple meanings as it can be a form of nostalgia, a longing for a past way of life during the communist era, while at the same time Communist kitsch can also entail parody and mockery that may efface former oppression. It can be compliance and apathy as Kundera suggests, but also, I believe, through parody it highlights social uneasiness. In post-socialist Hungary, Communist kitsch takes on new meaning as people refurbish the past to fit the new challenges of a market economy thus providing commentary not only on the past but also present-day global society. The following segment addresses the meaning of Communist kitsch as it relates to nostalgia and retro trends. 1.1

What is Kitschification? Laughter liberates not only from external censorship but first of all from the great interior censor; it liberates from the fear that developed in man during thousands of years: fear of the sacred, or prohibitions, of the past, of power. Bakhtin, 1984, p. 94

Kitsch can inspire a kind of cringe response looking distasteful or tacky yet at the same time elicit fondness or humor. Making something kitsch that once represented Communism leads to reinterpreting a past power in a manner that might have been once prohibited. Nadkarni and Shevchenko argue that

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“Converting political icons into kitsch was thus part of the necessary symbolic work of the time, in order to render the former icons powerless and to enable post-socialist subjects to look back at the past with no fear of its return (Nadkarni & Shevchenko, 2004, p. 500). Looking at humor, to paraphrase Bakhtin, reveals another facet of kitsch as a way to ‘liberate’ from a past power. Humor is often about topics society finds uncomfortable or fears and it can play on things the culture finds distasteful or grotesque (Bakhtin, 1984, p. 223; Mikula, 2003, p. 172). Societal taboos may be too difficult to talk about directly but humor allows us to address potentially volatile topics (Freud, 1960). In de Certeau’s discussion of legendary objects, he suggests material objects of the past can be ‘spirits’ of the city that articulate time and space (De Certeau, Giard, & Mayol, 1998, pp. 135–137). ‘Certainly, the pedagogical processes of which they are the object include an internal contradiction: they must at once protect and civilize that which is old, make new that which is old (de Certeau, 1998: 137).’ With this in mind, I interpret Communist kitsch in Hungary as indicators of the Communist past (that which is old) and reinterpreted in the post-socialist present (make new that which is old). The question then arises, what is the significance of this process? This process is linked to what I am calling kitschification. Though there has been much debate over the meaning of ‘kitsch’ (Boyers & Boyers, 1990), I am looking at it within the particular context of post-socialist Hungary and how this process of kitschifying can highlight shifting understandings of the past. Kitschification is a process by which popular culture reinterprets time and space, and within the context of post-socialist Hungary, as a form of humor and nostalgia it can smooth away political and historical controversy. 2

Nostalgia and Communist Kitsch

Originally the term nostalgia referred to a sort of pathological longing for home, and Communist nostalgia in particular might be perceived as a longing for the past communist era after its demise in 1989. However, the term itself raises far more complicated issues. Svetlana Boym suggests the roots of the meaning behind nostalgia stem from understanding it as a medical condition which Swiss doctors could cure with opium and leeches (Boym, 2001, p. XIV). Within today’s global society, Boym sees two general trends: 1) restorative nostalgia, 2) reflective nostalgia. Restorative nostalgia stresses nostros and attempts a transhistorical reconstruction of the lost home. Reflective nostalgia thrives in algia, the

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longing itself, and delays the homecoming – wistfully, ironically, desperately. Restorative nostalgia does not think of itself as nostalgia, but rather truth and tradition. Reflective nostalgia dwells on the ambivalences of human longing and belonging and does not shy away from contradictions of modernity. Restorative nostalgia protects the absolute truth, while reflective nostalgia calls it into doubt. Boym, 2001, p. XVIII

Like restorative nostalgia, Communist kitsch reconstructs a past ‘home’ or way of life connected to Hungary’s communist past, and might portray this past as ‘truth and tradition’ and yet as Boym suggests these can be invented truths and traditions. Like reflective nostalgia Communist kitsch conveys a sense of longing yet also looks at it from the context of present day society and may call ‘it into doubt.’ Communist kitsch symbolizes in material form both the longing for the past, and questioning of it, but furthermore, through parody harks of issues of power, and social commentary of both the past and present. Nadkarni and Shevchenko outline at least four different types of nostalgia: proustiana, habitus kitsch, cultural belonging, and fashion nostalgia. In some cases nostalgia might be commodified in politically neutral forms, it can entail aspects of everyday life during the communist era that no longer exists, its shared experience might inspire cultural belonging, yet also distinguish generational divides between those who lived during the communist era and a younger generation who did not. Yet as Nadkarni and Shevchenko warn “There is a sense in which, even in Hungarian context, nostalgia plays an implicitly, if not explicitly, political role. Post-socialist nostalgia enables Hungarians “to not talk about the past while talking about it”: to retain one’s childhood memories while refusing to pass definitive judgment upon the larger political and historical context within which they took place (Nadkarni & Shevchenko, 2004, p. 516).” My friend Pisti, for example, retains a fondness for his childhood participation with the Young Pioneers as he interacted with a group of friends and they worked on collective activities, and though the Young Pioneers was run by the Communist Party, Pisti did not, as Nadkarni and Shevenko suggest, dwell on the political historical implications of this. When I asked Pisti when was your favorite time of your life he said, “Well, I think it was the úttörő évek, the young pioneer years. Well, I do not know, I think this was the most interesting, most exciting.” The úttörő or “young pioneers” were part of the Hungarian Democratic Youth Association influenced by the Communist government. On the one hand they were like a boy scouts club that encouraged healthy living, doing charitable acts, respect for elders, a love for nature, and good study habits, yet underlying these goals

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were variations of the points of the political system: to be brave, to fight and work for one’s country, and the Hungarian People’s Republic. I remembered there was a children’s train in the Buda hills that used to be run by the young pioneers, and asked if he ever knew a classmate who ran the trains. “No, I did not get to, and I don’t think anyone I knew got to work there either. I think that parents who were in the Party arranged for their children to get a position there, or someone was an especially good student with outstanding talents.” The honor of running the train carried a certain amount of status and only the privileged few got that experience. The young pioneers included a number of children’s magazines, toys, and uniforms espousing the symbols and messages of the Communist party. Pisti recalled that everyone had to wear the red pioneer scarf. “I know that at the school where I went, the administration took these things seriously. It really could not be treated lightly to wear the pioneer tie was protocol. I think it had to be used at the camps, the summer camps. On school holidays we wore it to celebrations. I had to wear it, I think this was protocol.” Surprised that he had an interest in a Communist youth organization, I asked him why he liked the young pioneers: “There were no serious problems then. Then it was the most fun, gaiety, and laughter.” Even though the Young Pioneers was sugar coated in Communist propaganda and ideology, Pisti did not dwell on the political nature of it, but rather remembered with childhood fondness. Former communist items, now perceived as campy or kitsch, can be linked to identity, memory, power and resistance associated within the context of present day society. Berdahl suggests East German Ostagie “tells us more about the present than the past” (Berdahl, 2010, p. 59). She perceives the celebration of former East German products as indicators of politics, that both “contests and affirms a new order” (Berdahl, 2010, p. 49). She states that “For many people on both sides of the inter-German border, this lack of product innovation and consumer choice, more than any political difference, constituted the principle distinction between East and West” (Berdahl, 2010, p. 49). Ostalgie, she states, “does not entail an identification with the former GDR state, but rather an identification with different forms of oppositional solidarity and collective memory. It can evoke feelings of longing, mourning, resentment, anger, relief, redemption, and satisfaction – sometimes within the same individuals (Berdahl, 2010, p. 56).” Given my friend Pisti’s current economic struggles, it is not surprising he should long for the past. Communist kitsch in Hungary, like Berdahl’s discussion of East German Ostalgie, can reflect a type of nostalgia that may be associated with the past, but actually tells more about the present and the complicated sometimes conflicting emotions it inspires.

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Communist kitsch can indicate how the trauma of dramatic change can lead some to grasp for control by reinventing the past. Jonathan Bach talks about the impact of change on former citizens of the German Democratic Republic (GDR). As a response to the dramatic societal changes people turned to the World Wide Web to create a virtual reproduction of the GDR “as parody, as nostalgia, as memory, as history, as biting commentary on the present and as subtle digs at the past”. Bach also explores the ways in which nostalgic consumption patterns express both a modernist nostalgia and nostalgia of style. The modernist nostalgia is “less a longing for an unredeemable past as such than a longing for the fantasies and desires that were once possible in that past. In this way, modernist nostalgia is a longing for a mode of longing that is no longer possible” (Bach, 2002, p. 547). Bach suggests the exposure to Western modernism and post modernism creates feelings of disorientation spurring a ‘modernist nostalgia.’ “The modernist nostalgia of the East is a straightforward longing, not for a past per se but for the fantasies of the past” (Bach, 2002, p. 554). Communist kitsch can create a fantasy of the past that is no longer possible, or in fact may be a rosy picture of what might have been. Susan Stewart suggests Nostalgia is a sadness without an object, a sadness which creates a longing that of necessity is inauthentic because it does not take part in lived experience. Nostalgia, like any form of narrative, is always ideological: the past it seeks has never existed except as narrative, and hence, always absent, that past continually threatens to reproduce itself as a felt lack. Hostile to history and its invisible origins, and yet longing for an impossibly pure context of lived experience at a place of origin, nostalgia wears a distinctly utopian face, a face that turns toward a future-past, a past which has only ideological reality. This point of desire which the nostalgic seeks is in fact the absence that is the very generating mechanism of desire. As we shall see in our discussion of the souvenir, the realization of re-union imagined by the nostalgic is a narrative utopia that works only by virtue of its partiality, its lack of fixity and closure: nostalgia is the desire for desire. Stewart S., 1993, p. 23

Communist kitsch reflects a longing people had during the Soviet era of the future, of the possibilities of Western consumption, it reflects a longing that one used to have of the past for a time filled with possibilities. However, this longing, the fantasies of the West bringing a promising future, no longer

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exist. An older man, knowing I am American, approached me to share a story about the first time he had an American coke. Someone had smuggled it in from the West and he recalled how special it felt to take a sip of something that to him represented America a place he could not travel to, a place with products unavailable in Hungary. Today, he lamented in disappointed angry undertones, the shelves at Tesco are filled with Coca-Cola so that now he no longer has that special feeling he associated with his first sip. Like Stewart’s discussion of nostalgia, this man’s story suggests the “longing for longing” for things from the west, “if only we could have access to Western products, if only we could travel freely, if only we could taste a coke.” Even Pisti’s story shows this longing: the past possibility of using his German skills for work, yet today’s disappointment that this has not panned out, and that perhaps he should have learned English instead. This longing of possibilities faces the disillusionment of present day society in which these items no longer carry the same forbidden sense of longing (See also Bach, 2002, 549–551). On the other hand there is also a ‘nostalgia of style’ that “constitute[s] floating signifiers of the ‘neokitsch’ that undermine consumption as an oppositional practice by at once turning the consumer into the market and the goods into markers of personal ironic expression” (Bach, 2002, p. 547). Furthermore, “This resurrection of the past-as-camp appeals at once to eastern Germans too young to actually experience East Germany and to westerners looking to consumption as ‘a privileged site for the fabrication of self and society’, of culture and identity in a new age of anxiety governed by the floating signifier of globalization” (Bach, 2002, p. 553). Ironically, he argues there is a connection between nostalgia for the past longing for capitalism and a response to the traumatic change’s potential loss of GDR identity that creates “a longing for the intangible material world across the border, and the capitalist nostalgia of today’s unified Germany organized around an aesthetics of kitsch. As the direct memories of the GDR fade, the taste that remains may not be the bitter aftertaste of longing lost, but a highly aestheticized and decontextualized sense of camp” (Bach, 2002, p. 554). Communist kitsch in Hungary, in this regard, may also be a response to sudden societal change and way of life, but also a response to a global economy traditionally controlled by the West. Balming political tension through humor, the process of kitschifying Soviet era memorabilia makes it more palatable for today’s society, as some may be attracted to the aesthetic qualities of the period or find the pieces nostalgic. Though many of the people I talk to insist they are not political, there are strong political divisions as some see Prime Minister Orbán as a savior renovating the country and bringing the nation together, while others fear he is taking political control much like a robber or dictator. Certainly different types of people

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use Communist kitsch items and have different perceptions of them making Communist kitsch a mulitivocal symbol particularly relevant to today’s society. One form of Communist kitsch, as will be discussed in the following, deals with how it is marketed and for whom. Communist Kitsch Appeals to Western Perceptions of the Cold War Other The Hungarian tourist industry portrays itself as the ‘cultural other’ by creating a simplified reinterpretation of the past, a kitschified version, for the Western tourist gaze. Verdery links post-socialist studies to post colonial studies to suggest a parallel emphasis on knowledge and representation. “Just as postcolonial studies examine the ‘self’ and ‘other’ in the colonial encounter, we might further explore the history of such representations in the socialist and capitalist worlds – each holding up the other as its nemesis, the image of all that is evil” (Verdery, 1996, p. 17). I would argue that today the Communist East ‘other’ image has become marketable to the Western tourist, yet ironically, it is the Hungarians themselves creating this image for sale. Why would they present themselves as a cold war stereotype? Berdhal looks at the consumption of former East German products as a form of resistance highlighting East West divisions. 2.1

Indeed, the marketing and consumption of Ostalgia represents a certain commodification of resistance, particularly when several of the supposedly eastern German products are now produced and distributed by western firms. This framing of resistance to West German dominance in terms of product choices and mass merchandising entails a sort of Ostalgia for the present – practices that both contest and affirm the new order of a market economy. On the other hand, however, these practices also reflect an ongoing politicization of consumption, different in context but similar in form to the socialist period. Rather than using coveted western goods to construct and express resistant political identities, as under socialism, eastern Germans turned to old GDR products – an inversion of what John Borneman termed the “mirror imaging process” that contributed to the construction of two German states and identities during the Cold War. Berdahl, 2010, p. 45

Just as Berdhal suggests the commodification of Communist kitsch can reflect past cold war tensions symbolizing power struggles, resistance, and

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identity that can both “contest and affirm the new order of a market economy”. Fehérváry further notes in the context of the state’s utopian promises, on the one hand, and the populace’s increasing exposure to images of the West and western consumer goods on the other, the Cold War opposition between communist and capitalist systems become embodied in their respective products. In accord with state-socialist ideology, its mass production emphasized quantity over quality in an effort to make goods available to everyone in society. However, the perceived ‘inferior’ quality of these products – in comparison to western products – came to stand for the inferiority of the socialist system itself, as well as the state’s negligent and even ‘inhumane’ treatment of its subjects. Fehérváry, 2006, p. 56

Material items associated with socialist past can symbolize East West divisions provoking “cultural other” perspectives. The ‘cultural other’ is a Western-centric comparison from a position of power pitting us (the self) against them (the other). Constructing the ‘cultural other’ has to do with issues of representation and how this representation could be used against them. The ‘other’ may be portrayed in a simplified stereotyped manner often as primitive, backward, less sophisticated, or exotic. To make a group of people ‘the other’ is to deny them agency, and complexity. It is this simplification process that is a form of oppression and exclusion (Asad, 1973; Fanon, 1952; Said, 1979; Spivak, 1988). During the communist period travel to and from communist countries was restricted hence limiting the tourist market. Following the fall of communism former communist countries have become popular destinations for the Western tourist in part out of curiosity for a society they knew little about. Ironically the tourist industry in Hungary creates a kitschified image of the ‘communist Other:’ a cartoon kitsch version of what American tourists believed Cold War communism to be. The Red Scare, Hollywood Blacklists, house unAmerican Activities Committees, space wars, all represented the Cold War struggle for power between Western Capitalist Societies and Communist societies. When President Reagan proclaimed “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down that wall” it was not simply to remove the Berlin wall that separated Eastern (communist) Germany and Western (capitalist) Germany, it was for Gorbachev to surrender the war for Communism and embrace Capitalism. The cold war ‘other’ is what Western tourists want to see. Hungarians are willing to sell this

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kitschified version of the Cold War, despite that the everyday experience of communism was much more varied, complex, and contested than the average American was led to believe. Bach observed in Germany a difference between the way East and West Germans marketed and perceived Communist kitsch. Bach suggests that Westerners may perceive East German nostalgia (Ostalgia) “as deluded ingrates longing pathetically (if understandably) for the socialist past. Yet when the subject is the knowingly ironic westerner (or “sophisticated” easterner) enjoying the retro aura of GDR era design, Ostalgia appears as (p)ostmodern artifact valued precisely for its lack of emotional attachment to a specific past” (Bach, 2002, pp. 546–545). Westerners saw kitsch as a mockery of a once powerful and oppressive regime, yet for East Germans the appeal of Communist kitsch lies in the form of material goods from their past everyday lives. The Berlin wall did fall, and communism seemed to crumble with it and as a result Western tourists (self) want the negative stereotyped images of Communism (the other) that were promoted during the Cold War to be affirmed, to justify and legitimate Capitalism’s conquest. The following looks at various ways tourism markets a kitschified Cold War through symbols such as the Trabant, Communist themed tours, tourist sites, and communist souvenirs. .

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Elaborating Symbols of Communism: The Trabant

Communist kitsch creates a stereotyped image of the cold war ‘other’ that provides an additional facet to understandings of historical ‘truth’ as seen for example in the depiction of the Trabant. Sherry Ortner defines “elaborating symbols” as providing categories for thinking about how the world is ordered and how people should act within it (Ortner, 2008). The Trabant car provides an “elaborating symbol” of the Communist era especially in terms of material shortages and the ability to adapt to the challenges of the era. The Trabant was a two cylinder East German car that was popular during the Communist era. Because the state system often had a shortage of products, Gyuszi (b. 1956) remembers his family paid in full and then waited several years to obtain what he affectionately called the “the Trabi paper car.” One had to measure how much gas was in the tank by sticking a dipstick in a bottle under the hood. Though made to hold four people, it is more remarkable how many uses the Trabant endured from family bus, hauling van, to tow truck with a rope. Sadly Gyuszi’s father heard the Trabant with its two-cylinder engine would be illegal to drive and sold the beloved car. Gyuszi still regrets the loss of the family Trabi and often stops to look inside parked Trabant cars and reminisce, if

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only his father had not sold the car so soon. To some extent the fondness for the Trabant in Eastern Europe is much like the fondness Americans carry for the old Volkswagen bug or Chevy (Berdahl, 2010, pp. 60–67). Gyuszi is not alone in his fondness for the car as seen among a post-socialist generation the Trabant has become a nostalgic hobby car as evidenced by various car clubs (www.trabantklub.hu). However for the Western tourist the Trabant has become a key symbol of the difference between the East and West: it is slow, problematic, and backwards in comparison to Western manufactured cars (Berdahl, 2010). Several Trabant tourist packages in which the tour guide drives the tourist in an old Trabant claim to give the true communist tour yet it is a stereotyped image of what was. There are a number of Trabant tours such as the CityRama, which encourages tourists to “get into the old, small and smelling (sic.) vehicle and get familiar with the mysteries of Hungary’s communist history down in the former bunker and up on the Stalin’s grandstand” (City Rama, 2011). Using the word ‘mysteries’ seems to make the experience exotic, and the old, small, and smelly Trabant harks of inefficiency or backwardness. In the Budapest hotel guide tour they suggest, “there is no better way to see Budapest than with an original Trabant 601 . . . With this unique sightseeing in Budapest you can combine unsurpassed driving feeling and nostalgic sightseeing with the real atmosphere of the past communist era” (City Rama, 2011). This tour gives you the ‘real atmosphere’ of the past so that the tourist could feel what it was like to live during the Communist era. There are several guided Communist tours in the Trabant that claim to give you a sense of the real experience. Budapest Tours summarizes “how it all started, how Big Brother told us what to do and what not to do. We’ll teach you about how life was behind the Iron Curtain. Learn how children were brought up, how families lived, how we could travel, where we could travel, how long it took to get a passport and many interesting experiences from black markets to banana lines” (www.viator.com). This gives the impression that people were passive lemmings that followed Big Brother’s instructions without question, when there were many forms of everyday resistance and there was more to everyday life than oppression and inconvenience. The Trabant tour creates an ‘authentic’ lived experience for the tourist, yet this ‘authenticity’ simplifies stereotypes that do not necessarily depict people’s more nuanced life experiences. For the local Hungarian the Trabant is a hobby car that illustrates a fondness for a material object from their past, not a reminder of nor a fondness for communism. Nostalgia does not necessarily mean a desire to return to the past, yet Communist kitsch stereotypes the past and hence negates the complexity of experience.

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Communist Tourist Sites: Statue Park

Postsocialism resulted in symbolic removals of the socialist past, yet it is this socialist past that is evoked in Communist kitsch as exemplified in Hungary’s Statue Park. For Verdery, Statues are dead people cast in bronze or carved in stone. They symbolize a specific famous person while in a sense also being the body of that person. By arresting the process of that person’s bodily decay, a statue alters the temporality associated with that person, bringing him into the realm of the timeless or the sacred, like an icon. For this reason, desecrating a statue partakes of the larger history of iconoclasm. Tearing it down not only removes that specific body from the landscape, as if to excise it from history, but also proves that because it can be torn down, no god protects it. Verdery, 1999, p. 5

Many former Communist countries destroyed or removed communist statues and symbols, but Hungary’s removal of the statues from the city streets and isolating them in a remote suburban part of the city both erases them from the political landscape of the city, yet preserves them as a marker of a forgone era. Now called ‘Szobor Park’ which translates as Statue Park, it is also referred to as ‘Memento Park’ suggesting it as a reminder or keepsake of the past (See Figure 20). The advertisement for the park describes it as having “gigantic statues and ghosts of communist dictatorship” (szobor park, 2011). The use of the word “ghost,” like Verdery suggests, creates an image of the statues as the dead bodies or spirits of a Communist system put into the grave. It is as if they have been neatly frozen in time in a safe distant place that some of my informants claim was once a place to dump garbage. Though unlike a cemetery where friends and loved ones might visit a grave, this park carries a sense of sensationalism catering to gawking tourists curious to see what they did not know. The park itself did not provide guided tours though outside tour groups might bring their own guides to describe the statues. On my visit to the park the worker at the gate who collected fees and sold tourist guide booklets in English and Hungarian explained the English version was more expensive than the Hungarian, yet she also remarked that few Hungarians visited unless they had emigrated from Hungary or were accompanying a foreign friend who wished to visit. I asked Pisti if he had visited the Statue Park, “I went because I knew it was there, and once I happened to be there in the Budafok area. I did not plan to go there, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I would check

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Figure 20 At the entrance of Momento Park stands a large Soviet-style statue of Lenin. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

it out.” He went to the park by himself due to happenchance: he was there, he was curious, why not go in. As Beverly James suggests, though there was a slew of political maneuvering behind the building of the park, “the Statue Park is not a burning issue for most Hungarians” (James, 2005, p. 37). There is a general feeling that it is made for tourists.

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Visiting the ‘ghosts of communist dictatorship’ seems to create a cultural ‘other’ for the Western tourist’s gaze. Nadkarni suggests the park statues allow the visitors to both forget yet remember the socialist era. Framing the park with the consumption of such socialist kitsch has made it more marketable for Western European and North American visitors, who view the park as proof of both the oppressed socialist past that feared and hated these statues, and the democratic present that is free to laugh at them. Indeed, western reports of the park opening often played into these fantasies of monumental ignominy: describing the park’s architecture as a humorous ‘theme park or Leninland’, or romantically locating the park on a ‘bleak’ or ‘windy’ hilltop. Nadkarni, 2006, p. 203

The park serves to reaffirm for Western tourists the triumph over Communism and seems to provide theme-park like stereotypes to undermine the reality of the past. Communist tours also appear to grapple with reinventing the past for tourist consumption, yet there are people who may also want to preserve their own understanding of the past. This complexity was highlighted in a Communist tour that I took. 5

Communist Tours

Communist tours symbolize kitschified versions of communism stereotyped for the tourist’s gaze, and yet the Hungarians themselves create these images of the communist past for sale. They are selling what the Western tourist consumer wants to buy. Communist kitsch in tourist packages depicts the Cold War ‘other’ emphasizing a simplified binary opposition between East and West. The free Budapest communist walking tour claims the tourist will gain: Personnel (sic.) and realistic insight into what life in Hungary was like under Communism and what has happened since. This tour also provides an interesting first hand account of life pre and post Iron Curtain and helps to understand the local way of living and not just see the city from a tourist’s viewpoint. The undercover stories reveal interesting facts about traveling, housing, education, media, propaganda, sport, healthcare, religion, economy under Communism and in comparison with the post-Communist era. Tour (sic.) provides clear picture about everybody over 30 lived through and how it affects current attitudes of locals. Budapest Walking Tours, 2012

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In the summer of 2011 I participated in the ‘Communist walking tour’ throughout the streets of Budapest. Most of the participants were Americans, though there was one couple from Australia, and a woman from Mexico. Most were in their late 20s and 30s but there was a good representation of retired American baby boomers. A man and woman in their late 30s were our tour guides. They often told stories of their own personal experiences to give a sense of authenticity. Both of these tour guides had lived outside of Hungary in Western countries before returning contributing to their strong English competency, but also an ability to look at their own country from a Western perspective. My Hungarian friend, Pisti came with me on the tour but when we soon realized the tour would be all in English, he left. In fact, most guides to ‘communist’ sites are in Western languages not Hungarian hence not for the native but the tourist to view the other. Highlights of the tour included a secret escape bunker for the Communist elite, and gun-pocked buildings showing the impact of the 1956 rebellions. Despite stating at the start “This tour is not political. We are not here to judge. If you would like we can talk at the end,” the tour seemed to focus on themes that emphasized Soviet control such as travel, housing, religion, and propaganda. After a brief history, we stopped at what was once the old bus terminal to talk about Communist travel restrictions. The government gave either red or blue passports; the red passports allowed for restricted travel only to other communist countries, and the blue passports allowed for greater travel but were limited to 1/3 of the population. “You had to be “reliable” to get one,” stated the tour guide. Then we stopped in front of a Soviet era style panel building to discuss housing. The tour guide explained that there was not enough housing so the Communist system built these “panel” style apartments that were small but could be built quickly to house many people. An older American man pipes in “And they look like shit.” Undeterred the tour guide continued explaining each had a “house master” who swept the steps, emptied the garbage, but they might also “report” on people’s political involvements. And as if to show the positive in relation to present day society, she stated that whereas every person had some sort of housing, today there are 30–40 thousand homeless in a population of 10 million. Stopping at the Basilica, the tour discussed restrictions regarding Religion. She proclaimed the government banned religion in early Communism but you could go to a remote village secretly to have a first communion, for example. Still there was the potential for an individual or priest to be taken away. In front of the old stock market building that once housed the Magyar Television (MTV) offices, the tour focused on the theme of propaganda. The tour guide suggested that the general cold war message was that Communism was fighting for the people, whereas American imperialism was bad indicated by segregation and poverty. She explained

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c­ ensorship such as in the 1950s when no American films were shown, however later the party decided which American movies and television programs could be broadcast. As if to justify or explain why people lived within such a society with so many restrictions she said “the biggest support comes from self-­ censorship, not an oppressive state. There was an invisible line, we didn’t know if we would be punished or what might happen if we crossed it. Many did not want to risk their comfortable lives. Self-censorship still exists today.” On the one hand the tour seemed to highlight cartoon kitsch versions of Communist oppression that strengthened perceptions of difference that might appeal to a Western tourist, yet it also tried to humanize the experiences of those who lived through it. The sense of political tension came to a head with our stop in Szabadság Tér. The tour drew attention to the political controversy surrounding monuments in Szabadság Tér shedding light on its Communist past. Lined on the periphery with grand architectural buildings that house the Former Stock Exchange, the National Bank of Hungary, and the American Embassy, Szabadság Tér consists of a beautifully manicured park with grass, trees, and lovely flower arrangements. Established in 1886, the government erected Szabadság Tér (Freedom square) on the site of former Austrian army barracks. In 1920 Admiral Miklós Horthy sanctioned various monuments in honor of Hungary’s lost territories following WWI, including a floral map of Greater Hungary as a reminder of the land lost due to the Trianon Treaty but these were removed following WWII. In its place the Soviet government erected a monument of the Red Army to honor the Soviet soldiers who died liberating Hungary from the Nazis and Arrow Cross allies during a siege of Budapest from December 1944–February 1945. A cement pathway leads to two sets of five steps that go up to the concrete obelisk built by Károly Antal. Looking from bottom to top, a green patina bas-relief of soldiers in battle marks the base, as your eye goes up it states in Russian and Hungarian “Glory to the Soviet Liberation Heros,” further up there is a crest with Communist hammer and sickle, and a bright gold five-pointed communist star grandly tops the point of the obelisk. Kitty-corner towards the left in the background some two blocks away one can view the Parliament building, and across the street to the right stands the American Embassy. Some would like this monument removed, and in 2006 it suffered from a series of vandal attacks. Some believe Hungary made an agreement with Russia to keep the monument standing, a view that cannot be verified, but understood given Viktor Orbán’s growing ties with Russian President Vladimir Putin, such as the Gazprom natural gas line project. As if to pacify tensions, on June 29, 2011 the year marking what would have been Ronald Reagan’s 100th birthday, Viktor Orbán unveiled a larger than life size 7 foot bronze statue of Reagan made

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Figure 21 On the “Communist Walking Tour” we visit the Ronald Reagan statue that faces the Soviet obelisk, which honors the Red Army. The tour guide suggests this stance makes reference to old Cold War tensions. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

by István Máté. Orbán said, “Today, we are erecting here a statue to the man, to the leader, who changed, who renewed, this world and created in it a new world for us in Central Europe – a man who believed in freedom, who believed in the moral strength of freed people and that walls that stand in the way of freedom can be brought down (Birnbaum, 2011).” Ronald Reagan’s signature written in bronze lies at the base of his feet, and by 2015, already his statue has a brown patina save for his hands that shine brightly due to many people walking up to the statue to shake his hand, and take selfies (See Figure 21). Several people on the tour took smiling photographs next to Ronnie. The statue stands on a thin granite square flush with the sidewalk, so when standing in front of the statue he looks as if he is casually walking towards you. Looking over his shoulder one can see the Imre Nagy bronze monument erected in 1996 (Nagy being killed following the 1956 uprising), but more prominently one can view the dome of the Hungarian Parliament building. If you walk behind the statue and look towards the park, smack between him and the American Embassy stands the Soviet Monument. The tour guide suggested the Russians originally placed the Soviet Monument in front of the US embassy as an ‘in your face’ ­gesture, and the later placement of Ronald Reagan suggests a counter response.

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Though this might be urban legend, the placement of Reagan’s statue harkens of the memory of Cold War tensions. Not only did the tour reinforce the Western view of the oppressive communist state but it highlighted the triumph of Capitalism as exemplified by Ronald Reagan’s statue. These monuments draw attention to how political regimes mark space by putting certain statues in particular spaces, and as Verdery suggests, this also punctuates temporality particularly “by giving new contours to the ‘past’ through revising genealogies and rewriting history. Since 1989, the last of these has been very prominent in ‘overcoming’ the socialist past and (as some people see it) returning to a ‘normal’ history” (Verdery, 1999, pp. 39–40). The statue of Reagan, a president who had a strong anti-Soviet stance, renews Cold War dialogue arousing binary views of resistance between oppressive communism and the freedom of Western capitalism. This view seems to confirm what the Western tourists want to see in a “Communist tour,” yet the tour also tried to show the complexity of the era. The tour guide Éva recalled when she was a student that the state had removed a section of the textbook that covered George Orwell, yet the teacher had brought in her own copy for the students to read indicating that in practice there were everyday forms of resistance. As Verdery suggests, some want to return to a “normal” history, and I believe for some this means to capture the everyday reality of experiences for people who lived through the Communist era suggesting a contrast between dominant constructions of history more obviously manipulated in the Soviet era and the “real” experience for those who lived through it. The tour gave a feeling of “normal” history by incorporating everyday material objects yet this “real” history is also a manipulation, a reconstructed memory from the perspective of present day society. At the end of the tour, tourists were given a more visceral experience as the tour guides’ allowed the group to touch their personal collections of Soviet era material objects such as a propaganda postcard glorifying the Soviet housing projects, a Soviet era blue passport, and a stamped party book. Underneath the kitschified façade of the Cold War, the tour guides attempted to show the complicated nature of the experience from the perspective of people’s everyday lives. In 2007 I taught a post-socialist anthropology course at UCLA during which I brought in my own collection of Soviet memorabilia including Communist party books, Work IDs, red star pins, Soviet sport awards, etc. I encouraged students to look closely many fascinated with the ability to pick up, and handle symbols of Communism. One student asked in shock, “How did you get these items?” Until that question, it had not occurred to me that these would be ­difficult to obtain as people just gave them to me as they wanted to get rid of them. In 2014 many similar items such as red star pins, Lenin statues, and Stalin paintings can still be obtained at the Ecseri flea market where, according

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Figure 22 One can buy Soviet memorabilia from the Ecseri bolhapiac, a flea market located a 45 minute bus ride from the center of town. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

to a market vendor, mostly Western tourists buy them (See Figure 22). Fascinated with being able to handle Communist symbols integrated into people’s everyday life experiences creates a tangible experience for a Westerner who did not have the first hand experience of living during the Communist era. Being able to touch these real life examples of Communism forces the Westerner to realize how symbols of oppression affect people’s lived experience, but also how they lived normal lives within this society. Like the “exotic other,” these symbols are like souvenirs from a life that would be hard to imagine, and the Western tourist can buy them (See Figure 23). 6

Communist Kitsch as Souvenir

Kitschification can also be like a souvenir, in that it is a fantasized representation of a time and place that creates a cold war ‘other’ for the Western gaze. Souvenir stems from the French word meaning memory yet these often depict a stereotyped image of the Communist past rather than authentic reality. Souvenirs are sold as a depiction of place to remember one’s visit and they capture memories of experience associated with interpretations of a place. Literature on souvenirs suggests that they often stereotype the place,

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Figure 23 Outside the “Red Ruin” pub in Budapest, a kischified Lenin lures tourists in. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

and perhaps do not accurately depict the culture (Watson & Kopachevsky, 1994). “The consumer’s story cannot be separated from the form of souvenir. Their own story connects aspects of place, people, culture, time and or heritage to their own understanding” (Ballengee, 2002, p. 103). According to

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Ballengee-Morris souvenirs do not necessarily depict an accurate portrayal of time and place but rather the owner’s assessment or understanding of the time and place. Souvenirs can be stereotypical representations that put an emphasis on a ‘romanticized heritage’ versus the complex reality of the place (Ballengee, 2002, p. 106). In the swank Budapest shopping street, the Vaci utca, there are a number of tourist shops selling Communist themed items from cups with Lenin’s face, to Russian military hats, and communist red stars (See Figure 24). Hungarians sell communist themed souvenir items but most are sold or marketed to Western tourists eager to have their ‘cold war’ assumptions about the communist ‘other’ reaffirmed. Why would Hungarians market souvenirs from a disturbing past? Carmen White looks at Fiji tourism to note the ways souvenirs such as war clubs and cannibal forks can mark “difference” from the Western tourist, a type of sensationalism evoking both the fantasies and fears associated with Fiji “savage” “barbarian” cannibalist past. This imagery combined with presenting contemporary Fijians as friendly and congenial, ultimately invites “a tourist gaze upon a successful colonial project whereby Fijians were ‘tamed’ from, and exorcised of ‘primitive’ impulses that allowed their purer impulses to emerge. [. . .] Still, while souvenirs and other emblems of material culture highlighted in Fiji tourism are significant to the creation of narratives, tourism promotion is particularly reliant upon living, breathing Fijians to carry its central themes” (White, 2005, p. 168). She goes on to suggest the industry presumes tourists desire to see the exotic native other. In much the same vein, Nadkarni and Shevchenko note that The forms and practices of post-socialist nostalgia have mesmerized not only the countries of the former Soviet bloc, but also their cold war counterparts. One reason for the unremitting Western media fascination with this topic undoubtedly stems from the loss of the political cold War “Big Other,” a logic by which the end of state socialism in Eurasia and Eastern Europe proves the triumph of democratic ideals and the commodification of political icons into kitsch demonstrates the success of capitalism. In addition, however, post- socialist nostalgia also appeals to the desire to see oneself through the “Other’s” desiring gaze (the lost structure of fantasy that both East and West mourn). Nadkarni & Shevchenko, 2004, p. 497

Westerner’s view of Communist kitsch can arouse sensationalist fantasies and fears associated with the “cold war” other, yet also induce a sense of victory having tamed it. The fact that Hungarians produce and market Communist

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Figure 24 Tin cups reminiscent of the Soviet era depict retro themes and Communist kitsch: a Trabant, a Lada, a tractor, Soviet era cartoons and company logos, and profile views of Marx, Engels, and Lenin. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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souvenirs shows their market potential – Western tourists buy it, and in a Capitalist economy, Hungarians can profit from it. Though Communist kitsch may portray one perspective of the past for the Western tourist, it may also portray another perspective for Hungarians who desire to re-experience particular memories and associations connected with this past as will be explored in the following discussion of fantasized spaces. Communist Retro Kitsch Preserves a Collective Memory of Everyday Life Practices through Fantasized Space Kitschification celebrates the people’s unofficial experiences regarding life during the communist era. Every individual has their own unique memories and interpretation of the past, and for some this everyday daily experience, the so-called authentic memory, is often paired in contrast to ‘official’ historical depictions. Focusing on material culture from people’s private lives and experiences is one means of expressing the daily experience over the official depictions. In looking at the socialist experience the “emotional works of flesh and bone people have usually been overlooked” (Yan Y., 2003, p. xxii). Yes the historical political context influences the individual experience, and yet it is this individual experience of everyday life outside the state in which people chose to focus to represent their social reality. 6.1

7

Retro and Kitsch I asked Pisti about the Retro trend in Hungary, and he responded “I think the young people here like [retro] because I think there is a general interest in old things. In fact, the young people of today are interested in what their parents’ generation was like. Today’s teenagers are interested in what it was like for their parents when they were teenagers. But I think it may be because their parents are always telling stories about when they were teenagers. You probably realize this [retro] is a business, which is an interesting thing, this attempt to portray everywhere what it was like twenty or thirty years ago.”

Retro refers to a stylized version of a recent past typically reflected in material objects. Soviet Retro in Hungary, for example, might include red polka dot fabric, Terv cigarette boxes, East German Trabant cars, and red Soviet stars. Retro often reflects personal style linked to capitalist market consumption. Unlike the concept of nostalgia, Platt argues that

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retro, in distinction from nostalgia, describes revivals of past cultural goods with few of the implications of pathology or existential crisis associated with nostalgia. Retro makes past history close to us rather than apprehending and struggling against historical distance. Retro, a matter of style, is easy, in distinction from the incurable homesickness of nostalgia. Whereas nostalgia is out of sync with time’s flow, retro is at home in time – able to reach back into the past in order to reproduce in unproblematic fashion what was. “Soviet retro” describes the revival or continuation of traditions that appear never to have been lost, rather than the quixotic overcoming of the deleterious effects of time and the total disjuncture of collapse associated with post-socialist nostalgia. Platt, 2013, p. 464

Retro can intertwine with forms of nostalgia and kitsch to give a stylized reflection of the past without a longing sense of melancholy, as Nadkarni and Shevchenko note a “nostalgia without a referent and hence without pain, as opposed to “modernist nostalgia, which still longs for an origin” (Nadkarni & Shevchenko, 2004, p. 503). Though retro style items may on the surface appear neutral, the people who engage with them may have divergent views such that a person of an older generation who lived through the Soviet era may see these items as sparking a memory from their own past, whereas a younger generation may simply perceive them as hip or fashionable. From Bach’s perspective Ostalgia in East Germany has two forms: a “modernist” nostalgia, and a “nostalgia of style.” This “nostalgia of style” corresponds with the 1990s retro trend in Hungary, and while Bach suggests it primarily reflects a Western perspective, I would add, that it also often reflects the perspective of a younger generation that may never have experienced the Socialist era first hand. In Fehérváry’s discussion of the film “Csinibaba,” she explores how the 1960s era film reimagined Hungarian consumer culture to serve a corrective function for a younger generation. Youth embraced this reconstructed narrative of their (recent) ancestral past as one far preferable for their sense of self than the one they had been subject to by their elders and western discourse. Furthermore, they were able to identify with the experiences of 1960s youth as depicted during the socialist era as remarkably similar to their own. The very p ­ ossibility of this construction, however, lies in the symbolic value of everyday material culture within the socialist system. Fehérváry, 2006, pp. 55–56

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At the retro themed Táskarádió Eszpresszó Café in Budapest, Pisti (b. 1957) was drawn to an old tin placard nailed to the wall that listed the rules for the children’s youth pioneer movement operated by the Communist party. He jokingly stood at attention and attempted to recite the rules from memory. Pisti though university trained has struggled to obtain full time work currently surviving on 100,000 F ($500) per month to support himself and his mother. He had never been to the Táskarádió Eszpresszó Café in part because he simply could not afford it, and furthermore most customers were Western tourists or younger generation Hungarians. I wanted to go, and I wanted to show him the retro themed pub. In an earlier interview I asked when was the best time of your life, to which he recalled his childhood especially his participation with the young pioneers. In the circumstance of the retro themed café, the presence of this material object related to the young pioneers spurred his memory of the past, a memory void of politics, though technically the Communist party ran the young pioneers club. A younger person, or in fact someone like myself not raised in Hungary, might see these objects as a type of style filled with bright colors and funny figures, but they certainly would not spark a memory from my own childhood (See Figure 25). On another occasion, I met with a young woman, Ella, at this very same Café, a place she recommended we meet as it was close to her work and she had been there before with friends and work colleagues. Ella, (b. 1984) university educated and profiting from her ability to speak English, works for the EU in Hungary. She avidly posts on facebook, has hair extensions, and consistently texts on her iphone. Ella remarks how the elderly workers in her office complain that in the old days they did not have to work as hard, but Ella says today “we have to work to pay off all the loans the country took.” Her friend, Marika, called it a type of nostalgia afflicting the older generation. When we met at the Táskarádió Eszpresszó Café it inspired her to recall how her friends and work colleagues had gone to a retro themed party. Ella, born just before the fall of communism, has little or no memory of living during the Communist era and has adapted to a busy fast paced work and consumption culture of her generation. Communist retro to her is a matter of cute kitsch style. I asked several senior women what they thought about the retro trend and they did not seem to understand my question as they did not participate in going to retro themed places or buying retro themed items. Yet, old material objects can still spark fond memories. One day I was cleaning behind some cabinets and found an old package of “Ultra” soap in a small paper bag with an image of a housewife wearing a white apron and red polka dotted handkerchief on her head spinning a clean plate in the air. Seeing this old bag, Albertina néni

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Figure 25 Kádár era retro-style furnishings, eclectic pictures and toys decorate the interior of the Táskarádio Eszpresszó. The exterior windows show period black and white photographs including a smooching Leonid Brezhnev and János Kádár. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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(b. 1939), started to laugh as she recalled the time she had to resort to using it as shampoo. During the Socialist era there were often periods of shortages of consumer goods so when Albertina néni could not find shampoo she decided to wash her hair with Ultra dish soap powder consequently suffering from dried hair and dandruff for many months afterwards. Though an item from their past might spark a memory, these retro themed places represent capitalist market ventures that appeal more to a younger generation or tourists. Nadkarni and Shevchenko state that another kind of nostalgia similarly defined in terms of its interpretive practice is the fashionability of socialist historicity itself with the generation too young to have concrete memories of state socialism. This is not a difference in the object of nostalgia, but rather in the subject’s relationship to it: one of abstraction rather than materiality; historical citation rather than a metonymic slide into personal memory; ironic distance rather than longing. Nadkarni & Shevchenko, The Politics of Nostalgia: A Case for Comparative Analysis of Post-Socialist Practices, 2004, p. 502. [6-2]

Communist kitsch linked to retro themed spaces ironically highlights the seriousness of political conflict yet also downplays it to focus on the mundane day-to-day aspects of the time period. ‘Retro’ refers to the era of Communism (1948–1989) and yet it is recounted in a playful and humorous way as retro themed places serve to relive the experience of the past from the safe perspective of the present. To make something ‘retro’ is the practice of modeling something on the past, but in the case of Hungary, it also carries a feeling of fondness for a past way of life. The key to understanding this retro phenomenon is to highlight the contradictory and ambivalent attitudes toward the past (Berdahl, 2010). In Marita Sturken’s study of kitsch following the 911 attacks in New York, she suggests there was a type of ‘comfort kitsch’ that both reenacts the past historical trauma, but also distances from history and politics, she states: ‘In the critique of comfort culture that I have been making in this book, I have argued that such objects, no matter how well intended, cannot be innocent. They evoke innocence, they sell innocence, and they promote it, but in their very circulation they participate in a comfort culture that simplifies and reduces, that efface political complexity’ (Sturken, 2007, p. 94). In much the same vain, retro softens and distances the past into comfortable kitsch. Communist kitsch allows one to visit recreations in time and space allowing people to return to certain aspects of the past or their younger selves evoking nostalgic longing. The kitschification trends look at the past from the

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Figure 26 The Terv Eszpresszó has a retro 1960s feel, the name “Terv” referring to the economic “Five year plan” implemented by the Soviet Union. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

perspective of the everyday experience and this has led to a number of stores and establishments that highlight the material objects of the era. There is a Café located near Budapest’s Szabadság Tér (‘Freedom square’) called ‘Terv’ which makes reference to the Communist ‘Five Year Plan.’ During the Socialist era in Hungary (1947–1989), the Communist plan was to increase production through centralization and to focus on heavy industry by setting target figures and establishing quotas for production. Though it contributed to providing employment for all, and provided redistribution for social services, it also led to dysfunctional production practices, product shortages, and a system of bribery or under-the-table favoritism. Other than the name of the Café, the interior is a museum of everyday artifacts of the era rather than homage to its politics. The wall is covered with old matchbooks and cigarette covers of the era, old photographs, toys, and electronics (See Figure 26). Though there are a few personal party books, and communist star decorated sport awards, there is little reference to the politics of the era. It looks more like you have walked into someone’s living room with their personal memorabilia hung on the wall. A small restaurant close to the Opera House called ‘Spajz’ (which translates as kitchen pantry) gives the feel of sitting at someone’s old kitchen table and like

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the café, it is decorated with material objects from the Communist era such as old coffee grinders, candy boxes, plastic toys (See Figure 27). These images relate to Boym’s description of kitsch as being “often associated with a nostalgic vision of the middle-class home; it domesticates every possible alienation, satiates the insatiable thirst with artificially sweetened drinks that quench the very need for longing” (Boym, The Future of Nostalgia, 2001, p. 279). Walking into these places, the intent is to give one the feeling of what it was like to live during that era. Like a tourist visiting a foreign land, a customer going to these establishments can visit a past place that no longer exists and perhaps never existed. There is a sense of familiarity that makes kitsch appealing, and yet it also evokes a longing for a problematic past. Communist kitsch establishments that evoke images of the past may also wink an eye of parody at it. Located primarily in the Belváros, inner city, retro themed cafes and shops lure young Western tourists. The older Jewish neighborhood has come to be called Kultúra utcája (culture street), officially noted as representing the Jewish culture, the electrotechnic museum, and the Elte University, but known in many tourist books for its trendy bars, escape rooms, and ruin pubs. On Dohany utca, up the street from the Jewish Synagogue, is a dress shop called ‘Szputnyik.’ Sputnik refers back to the Cold war tensions as seen through the Space Exploration industry. Sputnik was the first satellite put into orbit, by the Russians in 1957, ‘one upping’ the technological competition with the US. Every Hungarian child knew Yuri Gagarin, the first astronaut to fly to the moon, as a national hero, not the American Neal Armstrong who later was the first to land on the moon. The dress shop sells retro dresses and vintage and new clothing inspired by the Communist era style: bright red polka dotted fabric, simple cotton dresses, and scarves. The sign states in both English and Hungarian “Fashion from the past, style from the future” (See Figure 28). This version of Communist kitsch aligns with Bach’s understanding as an “aestheticized and decontextualized sense of camp” (Bach, “The Taste Remains”, 2002, p. 554). Communist kitsch can depict a saccharine version of the past. Making light of brutal regimes and atrocities in the form of kitsch may appear distasteful and disturbing because it seems to void the seriousness of the past, but the distortion of the past may be a victory over it (Bakhtin, 1984, p. 62). Exaggerations can become caricature but can also have a critical moral dimension. Exaggerating or making fun of a politically controversial past is a way to present a ‘contradictory’ version of the past that can serve as a coping mechanism to deal with it in the present (Freud, 1960; Sturken, 2007). In addition, Georgescu argues that they might serve to contest certain stories of the past. Georgescu looks at ironic and comic performances as expressions of alternative memory that ‘should be seen as active and strategic responses to present-day challenges rather than as ‘survivals’ of communism’ (Georgescu,

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Figure 27 Located around the corner from the Opera house, the name of the restaurant, Spájz, translates as “pantry,” and has a homey ambiance that gives the feel of stepping back in time. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

2010, p. 157). Furthermore she argues “ironic messages are characterized by a certain richness that allows them to perform memory work and socio-political critiques simultaneously” (Georgescu, 2010, p. 171). Humor and irony can be a response to present day conditions. Nadarni’s work in Hungary found that

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Figure 28 The Szputnyik store in Budapest specializes in new and vintage clothes making reference to “Sputnik”, the first satellite launched by the Soviet Union on October 4, 1957. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

many of her informants early in the transition felt duped: they longed for Western capitalism and yet when they got it there were new social issues and problems. From this dissatisfaction and confusion, Nadkarni explores ‘irony’ from a modernist perspective as “recognition of incongruity between surface

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reality and intentions: ‘saying what is contrary to what is meant’ ” (Nadkarni, The Master’s Voice, 2007, p. 616). However the postmodern use of the term, she suggests, “lacks the implicit critique found in earlier forms and thus muddles our attempt to use irony as a term of critical analysis” (Nadkarni, 2007, p. 616). Nadkarni states “Whereas irony relies upon a shared denial of the veracity of surface reality, kitsch thus makes a fetish of this surface and seeks to foreclose alternative readings” (Nadkarni, 2007, p. 617). A parody of the uncomfortable past, as exemplified in a restaurant called ‘Marxim,’ is a way to deal with the past, but also present day society. On the Buda side of Budapest there is a Pizza Parlor “Marxim”, which may translate as ‘my Marx’ but also may be a play on words referring to the elite French restaurant Maxim’s. Both translations downplay the seriousness of Marxism by making it personal (my Marx) or associating it with a capitalist bourgeois elite restaurant (Maxim). This restaurant allows the customer to experience the Socialist past complete with barbed wire fences, barred windows, and pictures of Lenin. The menu mocks the past with options like ‘red October’ referring to the Tom Clancy novel based on true events of a Soviet submarine’s defection, but in this case it refers to extra tomatoes on the pizza. The ‘Gulag’ pizza, refers to the acronym for the government agency that overlooked the Soviet forced labor camps, and on the ‘Pre-election Promises’ pizza you can choose any toppings you want. The webpage for the restaurant states in Hungarian ‘Itt csak a külsö ségek idézik a szocreált, minden más a velejéig romlott kapitalizmus! (Marxim Pub, 2012).’ ‘Here only the surface reminds you of socialist realism, everything else is corrupt to the bone Capitalism!’ The pizza parlor makes fun of the scary past in an ironic way by paraphrasing and satirizing Soviet propaganda yet it also makes reference to the present market economy. The pizza parlor is a simplified version of the atrocities of the past but from the safe perspective of the present. Marketing soviet kitsch The very speed with which such kitsch became fashionable, however, demonstrated that it had little to do with a desire for restoration or return. Rather, it helped to produce the difference between the “Soviet” past and the “Western” present by rewriting the Socialist era solely in terms of Soviet occupation. Making the soft dictatorship of yesterday equivalent to that of the repressive Stalinist 1950s – a period that for decades had already been experienced as past – helped to distance an everyday suddenly consigned to the dustbin of history. Nadkarni, Monuments, 2006, p. 194

I would add to Nadkarni’s argument that creating binary divisions between the “Soviet” past and “Western” present overlooks the hybrid nature of

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post-socialist society or as Verdery might suggest, the post-colonial style ability of the past to impact the present. Furthermore, addressing the harshness of the past through humor is a way to overcome it yet not directly addresses it either. Kitschification is a process that can invert power and recontextualize it yet this capacity to soften the past contains the troubling ability to not problematize it. One can visit the past by having pizza at Marxim’s, but inevitably have to return to post-socialist society where “everything else is corrupt to the bone Capitalism!” Though Communist kitsch suggests a distorted view of the past from different perspectives they all in different ways dampen political complexity. While the Western tourist may be looking for an affirmation of cold war stereotypes, Hungarians may be looking for a fantasy of the past both for a generation too young to remember what Communism was like, and for others old enough to see it as part of their personal experience and memories. 7.1

Communist Kitsch Illustrates a Generational Divide Pisti said that during the Socialist period “it used to be easier somehow. Now it is difficult to figure out how to be. In the past it wasn’t this hard. Well, it is a fast changing world, that is the way it looks to me. I don’t know if this is the case elsewhere, but I believe this is so. It is just easier for young people. Here in Hungary it does not look like it will get better. Maybe it will be better elsewhere, but not here.”

Often we think of a naturalized history as one collective account yet postsocialist studies force us to reconsider history as a neutral category. It is not a dichotomy between the State official version versus the people’s version nor is it a matter of individual versus collective memory. The socialist state sometimes consciously attempted to create a social memory by censoring the past (literally in textbooks), or by reinventing traditions to replace old ones. We should value collective memories in terms of the societal context (Ten Dyke, 2000). New meanings of the past are created from the post-socialist perspective, from the memories of the people who lived through it, and from a younger generation who simply sees it as a cool style. Some may have fond memories; others may not. Regardless, the material culture of communism has a different meaning now than what it originally had and this seems to reflect growing nostalgia as a response to dissatisfaction or confusion with present day postsocialist society. Generational perceptions of Communist kitsch differ. In 2010 the Hungarian government auctioned off Socialist era artifacts that most likely hung in official government offices such as portraits, sculptures, and photos of Lenin.

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Whereas some of these artifacts were mass-produced pieces with little artistic merit, famous Hungarian artists made others. A 22-year-old woman, Timeo Szabo, bought a sculpture of Lenin for $1,000 (Fairclough & Gulyas, 2010). Born after the fall of Communism, she has no personal memory of the experiences but she states ‘We’re not into Lenin really . . . It will look pretty in the office (Fairclough & Gulyas, 2010).’ A middle-aged man, György Török, 45, bought a Lenin picture for $50 as memorabilia of his youth rather than because of any political nostalgia he may have felt. ‘When I was young, I didn’t really look deeply into the faults of the system . . . I lived a calm, secure life where bread cost 3.5 forints and everyone had a job’ (Fairclough & Gulyas, 2010). For some people these artifacts have come to represent a memory of a way of life free of the problems of today where bread costs 161.23 forints and unemployment runs higher than other EU countries (7.8) especially among youth (18.8) (Numbeo, 2016; Trading Economics, 2016; MFA, 2016). They also represent generational divides between those old enough to have experienced communism and a younger generation who simply thinks, “it will look pretty.” No longer do these artifacts simply represent an oppressive state as they have taken on new and different meanings in this case one aesthetic and the other childhood nostalgia. Kitschification softens the political edge of communism. There seems to be a desire of those from the older generation to make sense of the rapid changes in their society and to inform the younger generation of their experiences. Dogossy wrote a book Azok a Jó Kis Hatvanas Évek (Those were the good old 60s) for her son to understand what it was really like to grow up in Socialist Hungary in the 1960s (Dogossy & Ács, 2005). She explains why she wrote the book. “You’re not going to understand, momma,” my college student son used to say. And he’s right. More and more things I do not understand. I do not understand why you need to send a text message to a friend in the classroom, when you will see him for lunch in the cafeteria, I do not understand why you need a small cube on the computer screen to watch TV while preparing for tomorrow’s final exams. And I do not understand how things work such as the Internet phone, call waiting, binary ­numerical systems, and I am even embarrassed with not understanding even more simple technology like the combustion engine. As a response she thinks about her past and the things she remembers but never thought before to tell her son. She did not think he would understand or appreciate her experiences:

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For a long time that is what I thought, I never said it, because this would only be the answer, “Momma, you do not understand.” Then I changed my mind. I want to keep the memories for those who lived through this time with me, and there is something for those who are interested in what these controversial times were, in the sweet 60s. Dogossy & Ács, 2005, p. 10 (author’s translation)

As this quotation indicates, not only does she want to have a record of life from the past, but also it is in response to the difficulties of adjusting to the present. Nadkarni’s discussion of kitsch sheds light on this response as she feels retro and nostalgia themed spaces “market the exoticism of the recent past to a generation of teenagers and young adults too young to have any memory of the socialist era themselves” (Nadkarni, The Master’s Voice, 2007, p. 621). Dogossy’s description highlights the generational divide between a post-socialist generation accustomed to the Internet, and websites, in comparison to an older generation trying to make sense of their place in the new post-socialist world. She highlights what it means to grow up in a market economy and how it is different from her experience growing up in socialist era Budapest. The co-author, Ács Iréne, fills the book with archival photographs of Communist kitsch objects of the era. Dogossy wants her son’s generation to understand what life was back then, so that he can better understand her, and this understanding of daily life experiences includes Communist kitsch material items. She wants to share this information with others who experienced this era to create and preserve a shared memory. There is a preference to focus on the regularity of everyday life as symbolized by the regular material objects of the day. There seems to be an attitude, “this is our history, and I want to preserve it.” With the advent of rapid changes post communism, there appear to be growing divisions between generations used to two different forms of s­ ociety – a socialist one, and a post-socialist one – and political divisions between some who perceive “communism” as dangerous and others who see “socialism” as okay. This is not to suggest there is a clear-cut dichotomy between the two societies, but rather a perception, albeit inaccurate, of a time that was compared to a time that is. One senior woman, Ada, an avid fan of Viktor Orbán, boasts how he is “ours” (a miénk), reflecting Orbán’s political slogan that asserts Hungary as ours. Ada néni cheers every time a Fidesz member speaks from the TV and jeers when others critique them, especially the MszP who she calls the “komcsis” (Commies). Her university educated son, Frigyes, though clearly adoring and respecting his mother, gets in constant arguments

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over her political views. He thinks her addiction to TV news has brainwashed her as she supports Fidesz unquestionably. Even though he claims he is not into politics and hesitates to affirm any political affiliation, his mother calls him a “liberal” and he says he likes the LMP (Lehet Más a Politika, Politics Can be Different (Green liberalism)). Before we started the interview she said Frigyes told her to make sure to turn off the TV when I got there, but of course it is constantly on. Frigyes jokes in English that the TV is a “magic box” and it is like a “watching machine, washing machine”, as it brainwashes her, making swirling hand gestures at the sides of his head and rolling his eyes to emphasize his point. When I ask her why she thinks she and Frigyes have such different political views, she replied that “he didn’t live through the same experiences as I did, he learned about 1956 revolution through his school, he doesn’t really understand.” Looking at a micro experience, at how individuals express and interpret the transition, sheds insight into its complicated nature (Hann C., 2002; Burawoy & Verdery, 1999). Hence generational differences that Dogossy suggests, might see a different perception from the older and younger generations, but also a desire for shared collective understandings for those that did experience the socialist past. While on the one hand kitschifying the past seems to reflect a desire to create a collective understanding of this past experience, there is also a cultural ambivalence towards both the past and present. Communist Kitsch as Collective Understanding and Cultural Ambivalence The kitchification of communism is a way to reveal the socialist era from the people’s perspective rather than an imposed state version, yet ironically it may also be a way to preserve the comfort of the past amid post-socialist change. Bakhtin talks of how humor can reveal the truth behind the official picture of events. He suggests the use of “ ‘sober popular imagery’ could ‘break up official lies and the narrow seriousness dictated by the ruling classes . . . [and strive] to disclose its true meaning for the people” (Bakhtin, 1984, p. 439). In her work on East Germany, Ten Dyke addresses what she calls ‘remembrance work,’ the way ordinary people “engaged themselves with memory and history in ways that were personal and unique” (Ten Dyke, 2000, p. 139). She looks at how individuals attach meaning to the objects and what the people have to say about the objects they collected to explore how individuals attribute memory and history to the objects and the forms of discourse this entails. She is interested in the way history was explained to her and “how life experiences shape historical understanding and interpretation” (142). In Hungary, ordinary people use Communist kitsch to recreate a past that is an idealized version of it. Kitsch is used to reveal a different picture behind the communist system: though there 7.2

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was official state doctrine at the ‘macro’ level, at the individual ‘micro’ level, people may experience and interpret societal constraints through everyday practices. This work has addressed the ways the people amid these changes make sense of the world around them and the kitschification of communism is one way in which to view this process as they reinterpret the past effacing political challenges and societal conflicts. The following looks at Communist kitsch in terms of collecting memorabilia, ‘retro’ trends as preserving memory, and rewriting history with material culture. Communist kitschification involves collecting memorabilia from the past creating an implied comparison to present day post-socialist society. The difficulty involved in the process of adapting to a market economy can lead to a desire to preserve a memory of a way of life that one was used to (Wallace, 1956). Ten Dyke shows the various ways in which people attempt to remember the East German past as something important to be documented before it is forgotten in order to distinguish East Germany from the West (2000). Berdahl suggests Ostalgie, a nostalgia for East Germany, ‘both contests and affirms a new order’ (Berdahl, 2010, p. 49). Similarly, Communist kitsch in Hungary both appears to look towards the communist past to preserve a fantasized version of a past way of life but also compare it to post-socialist Hungary today. A ‘Retro’ trend in Hungary that plays on Communist kitsch seems to suggest an urgency to preserve a memory of place that once was yet this also seems to be a commentary on post-socialist strains. For example, there is a 2012/2013 calendar called ‘Retro Budapest’ in Hungarian, English, and German. Each month shows a photograph of a part of the city, such as the Vaci Utca (a posh shopping street) both during the communist era, and then now. Though in most cases the buildings are the same, the city has visibly changed. Communist state run stores have been replaced with Western brands and communist symbols have been removed. This calendar evokes a sense of retaining an image of the past given the rapid changes since 1989. The kitchification of Communist material culture is both a commentary of the past as well as of the post-socialist present. On the other hand, there are also signs of social commentary on the strains of post-socialist society. One Communist kitsch t-shirt depicts Lenin’s face with the McDonald’s arches over his head with a slogan stating ‘McLenin’ hence creating a commentary on both Communist and Capitalist societies (See Figure 29). When I asked several elderly women to describe what it was like to live in the Socialist era and now, several simply stated, ‘I am not political’. When pressed for a response, a common answer was ‘both have their problems. One is not necessarily better than the other, they are just different.’ Mc Lenin represents this view, as it is a blending of corporate capitalism with socialism both systems flawed in their own different ways.

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Figure 29 On the posh Váci street, tourist shops sell T-shirts with Soviet kitsch: a mohawk coiffed Lenin “red punk”, “McLenin’s”, “KGB still watching, “the three tenors” (Marx, Engels, Lenin), and a Trabant. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

Kitschification’s tendency to focus on the regularity of everyday life is another way to rewrite history from the perspective of the everyday people. Valuch writes of the period of the János Kádár regime, the prime minister in Budapest who held office from 1956 to the fall of Communism in 1989. Rather than writing a typical historical political account, his intent is to focus on the experiences of everyday life. In his introduction he writes: “Watch my hands, because I am cheating” – said Rodolfo, a great magician, at the beginning of his performances. Indeed, looks can be deceiving: the everyday history has many faces and many memories, and is linked to many illusions, especially in the Kádár era. Nowadays a lot of people remember life was great, or at least they survived . . . In the eighties, living conditions deteriorated gradually, making a living became more difficult in Hungary. These were the changes in the framework of everyday life in the Kádár era. Valuch, 2006, p. 5 (author’s translation)

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As this quotation suggests, the memory of the past has many illusions. Just like Dobossy’s book, Valuch uses archival work of Ács Iréne that intersperses the book with Communist kitsch – historical photographs and everyday artifacts from toys, stamps, propaganda photos, lottery tickets, subways passes, party books, advertisements, etc. Valuch uses material objects of the era with the intent to give an authentic account of what life was really like in the past. Many still have these Communist kitsch items in their households making them tangible links to history. And yet ‘looks can be deceiving’ as there are many realities, and there appears to be a cultural ambivalence. 7.3 Material Objects Evoke Memories and Politicized Consumption Returning to Fábry’s washing machine race, material objects that come to represent the communist past can evoke memories that become humorous in the context of present day society and create a sense of shared personal histories. Fábry Sándor, the host of the television program, in his typical fast pace banter teases the audience: Do you have any idea of what lies here [under the lumpy fuzzy blanket]? Not them. They have no idea. Quickly forgotten. Zsuzsa, take for example what Ferenc József recommended in 1896 at the millennial exhibition, when these were originally unveiled: throw them out! Think back in time and in the spirit of the legendary 1960s and 70s, towards Brezhnev stagnation, towards Kádárism, towards Cucilizism, those forty damned years, which it is suitably called. Today we still have not processed this time period. My father won a socialist travel award, but I think the devil was hidden in the details, though indeed it proved to be an award, because he was the only one allowed to travel . . . In an intellectual competition, Dad won a stay in the Socialist Jurij Gagarin resort. Every good deed receives punishment (Nothing comes for free), because he also received an “Evreka” brand Soviet washing machine. Nothing about this machine had saving value other than that the Evreka had a cast iron chassis on the waist of the canister, which was the equivalent to the Eureka brand’s. They put it in the bathroom, as it was a 220 Evreka, no need to draw ­attention to what Evreka did not do. It did not wash; it had never had anything to do with washing! Fábry, 1999 (author’s translation)

Simply describing the inadequacies and frustrations of the Soviet design flaws of the Evreka washing machine evokes raucous laughter from the television audience. Cuci refers to a baby’s pacifier, and it plays on the sound of socialism

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(cucilizmus, Szocializmus). This is an interesting play on words as it suggests the Socialist system babied its citizens through state redistribution systems. Here he draws on the humor of Géza Hofi (1936–2002), a popular comedian during the late Kádár Socialist era who often portrayed himself as part of the working class yet openly critiqued intellectuals, politicians, and the absurdities of the communist government. In one skit he portrays a man selling newspapers and magazines on the street, walking over to his “refrigerator” a trashcan, and pulling out a bottle of home made palinka (hard alcohol). Drinking from the bottle throughout the skit, he interacts with the audience with crass humor, yet also occasionally pulls a newspaper from his stand to read portions and make social commentary. In another skit he used the term cucilizmus in a song Aggodalmas rock (Worried Rock), full of double entendre, mockery, and vulgar humor. He sings about financial problems and his unfaithful wife who he refers to as a bitch and whore, yet subtly links them to social commentary. In one refrain he sings: Nem lehet a fizetésből megélni, Leküldtem a babámat a hm.hm . . . térre, Rákapott a rákapott a hm.hm . . . ízére, Építjük a cucilizmust, na végre. You cannot live on the salary, I sent my baby . . . hm.hm to the square, Caught the caught the hm.hm . . . taste, We are building a cucilizmust, at last Hofi, 1972 (author’s translation)

This section suggests that because they do not make enough wages he sends his wife to the square to prostitute herself, and perform oral sex, followed by the line “we are building cucilizmust, at last,” playing on the double meaning of “cuci” as a baby pacifier that is sucked on, yet also linking to the idea of building socialism, a system that was supposed to provide for all its citizens. Fábry’s reference to Hofi not only suggests an ironic criticism of socialism but also tugs at the nostalgia of the lower working class groups who lived during the Socialist era, and the socialist state that was supposed to provide for them but often fell short. Fábry gives a personal account of the Soviet shortcomings by referring to what his father won in the contest, not only a trip alone without his family, to the Socialist Jurij Gagarin resort, but also receiving a Soviet washing machine that did not work. Yet this humor also conveys Fábry’s contemporary fellowship with the Fidesz government, a government

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that favors centralized state provided services and employment. This humor reclaims shared everyday life experiences within the context of postsocialist society. The material items associated with everyday life during the Socialist era could be a form of “remembrance work” that evokes shared identities of an everyday history. Elizabeth Ten Dyke looks at three students who created their own home museum of the German Democratic Republic with everyday artifacts from that period such as East German electronics, Young Pioneer scarves, travel applications, order forms for Trabants, and GDR cola. “Michael initiated the museum project around 1990, motivated by the awareness that there had been an Alltag (daily life) in the GDR that was fading so fast that soon no one would remember it” (Ten Dyke, 2000, p. 146). These artifacts sparked memories of the communist era such as the lack of supplies, lack of quality of the items, as well as the social relations used to get these goods (Ten Dyke, 2000, p. 147). The museum created a personalization of memory work: “As part of the process of creating viable identities for the present and future, they sorted through and collected material objects and memories to maintain a degree of continuity with the past” (Ten Dyke, 2000, p. 149). She argues how people wanted to document their own histories, “My history,” and “our history” by choosing objects from everyday life to preserve memories “when historical circumstances render a world obsolete” (Ten Dyke, 2000, p. 151). Yet she wants to make it clear that her examples “also illustrate the inadequacy of reducing memory and history to simple oppositions, including individual and collective or dominant and oppositional” (Ten Dyke, 2000, p. 151). She argues that people in their youth become accustomed to, or socialized by the social practices at the time so that even individual memories have collective understandings, personal yet shared experiences. To see this as resistant to official history overshadows the haziness of memory. Though the Socialist era might have been difficult, nostalgia focuses on the fonder memories. By focusing on habitual practices, the episodes the museum represents confirm what many suspect about East Germans: that only a small percentage of the population actively supported the state, and even fewer protested it. The vast majority of East Germans regularly went to work, cooperating with “political” requirements (by attending May 1 celebrations, for example) only to the extent necessary to protect their peace and quiet and out of fear of imagined consequences. People sought ­refuge from Marxist ideology and politics in what have been called “niches” – that is, family, gardens, and other private domains. Ten Dyke, 2000, pp. 153–154

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Ten Dyke highlights the ways in which material objects can reflect both personal and social forms of remembrance work, and in this case, embrace a shared personal history of everyday life that is not the same as dominant views of history nor necessarily resistant to it. Much like Ten Dyke’s work, the kitschification of communism creates an understanding of shared personal experiences, “our history,” that bonds people together. From a Western perspective the fall of communism might have been viewed as introducing freedom, but people did not simply follow the demands of the socialist system like lemmings, but rather they tactically negotiated within it with their habitual daily activities and practices. The everyday material objects associated with these daily life practices now hold memories of a particular way of life. In everyday life during Hungary’s communist era, Soviet household items and electronics, such as the ‘Evreka’ brand washer in Fábry’s washing machine race, were marveled as new and advanced in contrast to the ‘Western other.’ These household technologies could mirror cold war technological tensions such as the Soviet Sputnik and Yuri Gagarin versus NASA, yet they were a part of the average person’s everyday experiences. Today these symbols take form as tourist souvenirs and as items that spark memories of everyday life. As Fábry Sándor’s ‘design center’ focuses on the flaws of the devices, as well as the flaws of the societal system, his monologue makes former symbols of Communist power and advancement ‘kitschy’ creating a mockery of the past, and fodder for humor and ‘play,’ much like Bakhtin’s discussion of the inverse of power that flips the hierarchy of power making former Soviet strength benign through parody. Humor and play can serve to undermine these former tensions while also keeping the memory of conflict alive as a reminder of what was, and what could be. There are various understandings and uses of Communist kitsch in post-­ socialist Hungary that indicate not simply nostalgia for the past, but also uneasiness with the present global market economy. The post-socialist era’s complexity and the difficulty in theorizing about the transition to a market economy raises many questions and critiques, such as questioning a unilineal ‘evolutionary’ style development from Socialism to Western-style Capitalism when in fact the socialist past can inform perceptions of the post-socialist present, or an uncertain future (Burawoy & Verdery, 1999). Burawoy and Verdery stress the importance of looking at these events from the micro perspective, “In conventional portraits of the ‘transition’ the micro is determined or is an expression of structures, policies, and ideologies of a macro character, with little theorization of the unintended consequences brought about locally by political and cultural contestation intertwined with economic struggles” (1999, p. 1). Material objects of everyday life (a micro perspective) can be a way to

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explore a complex process of counter memories in light of societal change (a macro perspective) as expressed in Communist kitsch. Sometimes humor gets lost in the translation, but for those who went through the same frustrations, these consumption items of the Communist era create a shared experience with common understandings of an “everyday personal history” in contrast to more official understandings of history (Berdahl, 2010, p. 128). In some cases, Fehérváry suggests, old images of state socialism might be replaced with “new ones more in accord with the criteria of value most salient in a neoliberal world” that would appeal more to a younger generation (Fehérváry, Innocence Lost, 2006, p. 55). Georgescu in her study of ironic performances of the socialist past said that “Despite their alleged indifference to historical accuracy, the efficiency or ironic practices of remembrance depends on their ability to strike a sensitive chord in their audiences by drawing on their memories of the Communist period even as they actively construct and shape these memories” (Georgescu, 2010, p. 163). Berdahl, looking at the re-unification of Germany, explored consumption in terms of power relations permeated by “complex negotiations of identity, gender, and memory within changing political and economic structures” (Berdahl, 2010, p. 35). She suggests consumption symbolically represented the transition, state socialism collapsed not merely because of a political failure, but because of its failure, quite literally, ‘to deliver the goods’. The drab and clumsy East German products that embodied this failure were quickly collected as ‘camp’ by West Germans as they were resoundingly rejected by the easterners who had made them. Museum displays of GDR products similarly affirmed and constructed an image of socialist backwardness as reflected in and constituted by its quaint and outdated products. Berdahl, 2010, p. 37

Fábry’s washing machine race mirrors this tension by comparing the lack of the Russian brand machine Evreka to the Western brand Eureka. Fábry’s design center routines represent this same “campy” reflection that mocks the limitations of former socialist consumption items yet unlike Berdhal’s East West German divisions, Fábry’s audience consists of Hungarians old enough to remember these products, and young enough to have not. The Washing Machine Race unites the audience due to an older generation’s collective memory of the Communist period, and through humor and parody reshapes these memories for a younger generation who like Berdhal’s Western audience, view it as campy or retro kitsch. Even I as a Westerner could laugh at the ridiculous spectacle of a race of bouncing washing machine centrifuges.

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But for Hungarians this evokes a sense of being “our history,” a sense of shared understandings of everyday life practices and experiences. 8 Conclusion The kitschification of communism indicates ambivalence towards the past in light of present day dissatisfactions arising post communism: high inflation in the 1990s, a division between rich and poor, generational divides, a loss of socialist perks. From this perspective it is a selling of days gone bye, a way of life that has changed. Laughter liberates from censorship effacing restrictions (Bakhtin, 1984, pp. 93–94). “Certain essential aspects of the world are accessible only to laughter” (Bakhtin, 1984, p. 66). Kitsch in this respect is a form of humor that allows one to address this cultural ambivalence. Éva, the guide for the Communist Walking Tour, states “We had an ambivalent relationship to the state as an oppressor but we were used to the state providing for us.” She states: Do Hungarians have a nostalgia for Communism? Yes and no. Did you like communism? No. Did you like the leaders? No. Did you like the Communist Party? No. Did you enjoy being part of the young pioneers? Yes. We have an ambivalent relationship to the past. We hate state oppression but we were also used to the free education and healthcare. I like that period in my life – I was a teenager, younger and more beautiful. Even today there is an ambivalent attitude toward the past and its kitschified symbols. Today it is illegal to wear or display the communist star in public. The Marxim Pizza parlor used to have the communist red star as part of their sign but the Budapest authorities pressured them to take it down. As a compromise the owner of Marxim altered the shape of the star by making the bottom points of the star longer. Yet there is a contradiction because the communist star is sold at tourist shops on hats and clothing in the elite Vaci utca shopping area, and at the Ecseri flea market (See Figure 30). Looking back at the past as symbolized in material objects is complicated as there were many reasons to be dissatisfied with Hungary’s socialist past, yet also reasons to relish living through it. Communist kitsch represents things that make up people’s everyday experiences of the past and highlights the contradictory nature of memory as both a commentary of the struggles over the transition yet also a longing for an imagined past. Postsocialism began with the symbolic removal of the socialist

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Figure 30 At a Váci street tourist shop one can still by the red Soviet star on a white hat, and military styled hats. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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past by removing Communist imagery stuck on buildings and bridges, by taking down paintings of communist leaders from offices, and yet Communist kitschification indicates people wish to remember the socialist era through material objects as it appeals to many different people for different reasons: the older generation and post-socialist generation, the Hungarian and Western tourist. Communist kitsch incorporates official state socialist material culture and everyday material culture. Though there may have been problems during the Communist era such as censorship, limited goods, under-the-table favoritism and bribery, they are not the same problems that have arisen in post communism such as economic strain, homelessness, and unemployment. Today political tensions arise over ethnic tensions, conflicts with EU, government pressures on the media, as well as government ties to Russia. Although Fidesz promotes anti-communist rhetoric, Viktor Orbán also seems to be pursuing ties with Russia seeming to side with a former Soviet past. To make the socialist past a mockery is a way of reinterpreting what it was, and a way of dethroning a past power in such a way that making something kitsch can reinterpret something that was once unpleasant. Kitschifying communism evokes comparing the present with the past where the problems of the past are both mocked but at times seem to be overlooked as there were some aspects of the communist past that were appealing. Focusing on everyday material objects is another way to rewrite history from the people’s perspective. There is a sense of reclaiming a version of everyday life outside the official state. There is a craving to re-experience this past to evoke certain memories, and emotions as indicated by ‘authentic’ restaurants, stores, and theme parks yet kitschification is like a souvenir as it is a fantasized representation of time and place. There is a feeling of ambivalence as to kitsch-ify is both a victory over the past, yet also an homage to it. Though kitschification may simplify reality, enforce stereotypes or create a fantasy past, it serves as a trope to represent the complex nature of memory as well as social commentary on the present. Hungarians can market Gulag pizza to a younger generation or Western tourists because it refers to a scary past in a safe funny way. McLenin T-shirts mark the ironic merging of McDonalization globalization and former Communist symbols each with their own problems and complications. Fábry Sándor’s Washing Machine race is funny because it parodies the difficulties of the past perhaps evoking memories for an older generation, or inspiring a quirky response to jumping washing machines from younger generation too young to remember. For Pisti Communist kitsch sparks memories of an easier way of life free from worry, and a personal history that can be shared with others of his generation. Communist kitsch as humor may unify a group in laughter but it is troubling because it effaces, simplifies, and soothes over Communist era and Post-socialist era political complexities (See Figures 31 & 32).

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Figure 31 An image of Marx outside the Red Ruin pub in Budapest complete with drunken humor of lamp on head, and spilled cups decorated with the Communist sickle, hammer, and star. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

People’s views of politics can be complicated and in some cases overtly denied as will be explored in the following chapter, yet to some extent people’s everyday practices, beliefs, and memories can be informed by and can express political and societal discontent.

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Figure 32 An art installation depicting a pole of seven stacked hot pink Marx heads emerges from the lake in front of the Vajdahunyad Castle in Városliget Park (City Park). PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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Afterword

Re-interpretation of Societal Change: “I am not political” “Come to Hungary, we’ve got jobs in London!” Billboard by Two-Tailed Dog, summer 2015 In the summer of 2015, I noticed a series of unusual billboards, though they looked similar to other political signs, these had unusual statements. A political satirist group called the Kétfarkú Kutya Párt (Two-Tailed Dog Party) put up a thousand posters, some in English like the statement above, and others in Hungarian (See Figure 33). My friend Zita (b. 1963) in casual conversation several times joked about the Monty Python-esque character to the current government, such as building train tracks without installing the electricity to run them, or taxing severance pay 98% six months after being fired. When I asked her about these billboards, she stated they were not really from a political group, but rather some comedians. The billboard above mocked the Fidesz government’s response to the huge wave of Syrian migrants who flooded the city in the Summer 2015 on their way to Germany to flee societal conflict and find work (See Figure 34). The government’s official billboard depicts a pretty fair-haired smiling young lady stating “Nem akarunk illegális bevándorlókat!” (We do not want illegal immigrants!) (See Figure 35). The Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán quickly blocked the Syrian migrants entry into the country and rejected the EU’s suggestion that each country absorb a designated “quota” of migrants. Viktor Orbán stated: What we have at stake today is Europe, the European way of life, the survival or disappearance of European values and nations, or their transformation beyond recognition . . . We would like Europe to be preserved for the Europeans. But there is something we would not just like but we want because it only depends on us: we want to preserve a Hungarian Hungary. Mudde, 2015

The two-tailed dog’s billboard pokes at the irony that many young Hungarians have migrated to London for work, yet Orbán has rejected the Syrian migrants not simply for economic reasons, but for socio-cultural reasons, suggesting they would tarnish their Hungarian identity. Etatization looks at the way the

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Chapter 6 Figure 33 The “Two-Tailed Dog Party,” a kind of mock political artists’ group, satirizes the government’s anti-immigration stance in the Summer 2015, pointing out that many young Hungarians have themselves immigrated to London for work. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

Figure 34 A massive wave of mostly Syrian migrants tried to make their way through Hungary in the Summer 2015 only to find themselves stuck at Budapest’s Keleti Train station in makeshift “transit” centers. PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

Figure 35 On a billboard in the summer 2015, the government proudly claims the “Hungarian reforms work” and depicts a smiling young woman stating, “We don’t want illegal migrants!” PHOTOGRAPH BY LISA POPE FISCHER.

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state controls time and space in a way that impacts individual experience, transforming their time for the states interests, and this can be a form of state building. Certainly nationalism has been on the rise for a while in Hungary, in part due to a desire to reclaim their identity after demise of Communism more than twenty-five years ago. In post socialist Hungary there is an etatization of neo-traditionalism to create a sense of cultural continuity by reclaiming the past via cultural traditions, or symbols of everyday life, to maintain a sense of collective identity passed from generation to generation giving the illusion of a constant cultural identity shaping experiences at the everyday local level. Though the Soviet state may have played a role in the schedules of its citizens, people post communism have re-asserted their traditions and their memories of the past that may have been suppressed during the Socialist period, or even in response to discontent with new struggles post-socialism. These reinventions of memory, of history, reclaim their Hungarian identity. These traditions reflect re-invention as they adapt to a global Capitalist market system for use in a new political context, to revive a sense of Hungarianness distinct from socialism and global capitalism. This book shows the relevance today to look at how the communist legacy in Hungary has shaped the present and future of Hungarian culture and society, and more generally to explore dramatic societal transformations within a global society. Cultural change can be disruptive and disorienting for people (Wallace, 1956), but it can also give us insights into how various types of societies impact people in different ways (Ong, 1987; Taussig, 1980). Viewing through the lens of political transition gives us a unique vantage on the impact on individual experience. Young Hungarian adults and the new Hungary have little memory of the old socialist system and the novelty of capitalism has worn hence earmarking generational differences. Memory seems to de-politicize the past through forms of neo-traditionalism and ethno-­ nationalism, yet the state via etatization plays a role in these trends as it reformats memory culture at the level of individual experience. In the summer of 2009, when I asked elderly Hungarian women about their views on the differences between socialist and capitalist societies, no one seemed interested. Though this had been a topic everyone discussed in the 90s, a common response to my question was “I am not political.” This took me by surprise, as I did not perceive my question as “political.” I simply wanted them to discuss what it was like to live in Hungary before the change to a market system as I had heard them talk informally about many times before. I wanted to hear them lament the difficulties of shopping due to the shortage of goods. Nothing. I asked which time period did they prefer and most said they preferred their youth. This had nothing to do with nostalgia for

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c­ ommunism as some literature suggests, but rather a nostalgia for their past life experiences: they were young, they went dancing, they went to the movies, and they met their now deceased husbands. Several women suggested both time periods had their own problems and that one was not better than the other but merely different. These responses startled me. I found a society that seems to be reinterpreting the past in the form of a depoliticized trend linked to what I am calling a kitschification of communism. This trend in particular highlights the multifaceted ways of interpreting the past from retro fashion, or nostalgic longing, to a cringing look at an oppressive history. Recollections of the past are not indicating a longing for a former Communism, nor do they suggest a clear dichotomy between the Communist past and Post-communist capitalist society, but rather their reflections of the past indicate a multilayered process that highlights the complicated nature of memory and identity. Material objects in the form of kitsch express a sense of Hungarianness, a national identity with shared experiences, distinct from the West, EU, and its former Soviet ties. Forms of neo-traditionalism challenge notions of temporality, as it is a memory of the past, a past memory about the future, from the perspective of the present. The present day stance colors the view of the past, and this imagery not only becomes a part of everyday experience but also to some extent etatization as the state creates a collective understanding of the nation. Despite the fact some of my elder informants hesitated to assert political views, everyday practices can symbolize societal transformation and multivocal perceptions of it. James Scott suggested that everyday forms of resistance may not result in revolution, but they can indicate societal struggles, and just as Betty Freidan suggests the personal is political (Friedan, 2010), I would add that the everyday practices of individuals symbolically reflect a complexity of political struggles. So even though several individuals may claim: “I am not political,” their everyday struggles within Hungarian society today indicate otherwise. The state co-opts this sentiment stressing not politics, but rather neo-traditions that enforce the comfort of a national identity. This book has brought to light broader implications for understanding social change in a modern global world to highlight the experiences of a generation that lived through socialism and how they interpret the past and present in post socialist society. It has examined aging generations, healthcare systems, global exchanges, changing family relations, memory, nostalgia, modernity, capitalism, and the socialist past. Despite rapid changes to a Western globalized society there appear to be longings for neo-traditionalism, indicating both ambivalence towards the past and uncertainty about the present. Looking at Hungarian society reveals complicated relations towards capitalism and the West, with concern towards nostalgic attitudes that efface a problematic past

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and that can be co-opted by neo-authoritarian regimes. The following looks at why I focused on a diversity of everyday practices and the themes they disclosed providing insight into social change in a modern global world. These themes reveal a culture of adaptation that gives an understanding of Hungary today, and more generally how societal change can force us to look at how people negotiate within different cultural frameworks. 1

Everyday Practices Revealing Socialist Impact in a Post-Socialist Globalized World

This work has shown the complicated nature of portraying everyday life and the different tactics individuals use to negotiate through time and space. Culture is like text; a language with a system of rules of which people may be consciously or unconsciously aware. As such culture can be read and analyzed as a form of text. Focusing on seemingly inconsequential moments in everyday life marks how individuals interact with the environment. Even though the world has forms of domination, social agents operate and calculate in terms of a practical logic. There are structures in the world and individuals respond to, react to, and define themselves within and outside these societal constraints. Through their actions people react to and respond to the confines of society – and in this case a society that underwent dramatic change, forcing them to adjust their practices to new limitations. I chose to focus on economic forms of exchange and cultural practices that illustrated the impact of socialist society on post-socialist Hungary. Reciprocity in the form of gifts as illustrated by a mother and daughter who live in different countries reconnects people across borders and reflects issues related to social exchange, the nation state, and globalization. Creative food procurement strategies developed to deal with shortages of goods during the Communist era become useful strategies and indicate tactical consumption as elderly working class women must now negotiate survival with limited incomes. Cultural festivals that evoke folklore and peasant heritage such as the wine harvest festival can serve to illustrate both the effects of communal farming but also suppression of Hungarian national identity, and now elements of neo-traditionalism. A dysfunctional system of informal exchange based on bribery and under-the-table favoritism still underlies the healthcare system. The overburdened healthcare system to some extent leads to distrust, confusion, and resorting to alternative healthcare practices hence highlighting textures of everyday experience. Material items such as rough Crepto toilet paper or the state commissioned portraits of Lenin that hung in government offices can symbolically mark the socialist era, and today

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these items become fodder for humor in the form of kitsch indicating a rereading and interpretation of the past. Underlying these forms of exchange and cultural practices are socio-economic and cultural tensions highlighting generational and class differences. People may not consciously perceive how their everyday activities inform identity, but daily practices can be decisive for their sense of individual or group identity. Redefinitions of Hungarian identity in light of these tensions underline a turn towards nationalism that shadows into racism. Though these stories highlight individual forms of agency, a kind of micro-political voice, many still prefer to deny a political stance. This study has focused on lifestyles of ordinary people, and what they do in their daily lives. I have been less interested in quantitative data that homogenizes, preferring to look at the uniqueness of individual daily activities. This is difficult to generalize because even though people may have routines, things are not constant; nothing is exactly the same everyday. Individuals strategically create spaces for themselves within their environment, but everyday life is not fixed as it adjusts and changes depending on varying contexts and situations. I prefer to focus on the local experience and the ways larger forces such as societal transformation and globalization can affect their lives. This study has highlighted the different ways changing societies influence individual practices. 2

Societal Frameworks Impact Personal Experience

Though impossible to reduce society to a generalized form, it has a sense of organization. Kligman and Verdery refer to a blueprint of society that provided a common set of guiding principles but was enacted and interpreted differently in different countries (Kligman & Verdery, 2011). The Soviet model provided guidelines, yet like a Xerox copy of a copy, each progressive copy becomes more of a distortion of the original. As a copy, it shares aspects of the original, but becomes its own. Yet there is something recognizable to a society that experienced this blueprint, so that Hungary, though different from other former communist countries, shares recognizable parts of their shared soviet blueprint. Although everyone is unique, people may have used similar tactics with which to negotiate their everyday lives in response to the society. It is a difficult balance to describe distinct recognizable aspects of a culture – a common framework of understanding institutions under which people live – yet still recognize the heterogeneous ephemeral idiosyncrasies of everyday life. Individuals negotiate through society in an inventive manner never fully determined by the plans of organizing bodies, or in this case the Soviet model

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and now Global Capitalist one (de Certeau, The Practice of Everyday Life, 1984). Though society may set a grid or blueprint, people are not lemmings that blindly follow in the same manner, but rather take shortcuts or wander aimlessly through it. Every person’s story indicates how they manoeuver through society. Ica negotiated through a Soviet system that lacked supplies and learned to depend on informal networks of exchange, and later during the post socialist era she still relied on these food procurement strategies not due to a lack of supplies, but rather lack of funds to buy them. Though place gives a sense of order and implies stability or patterns of existence, maps alone do not define geographical space; how people use that space defines it as well. Lea gave me gifts to transport to her mother Albertina néni creating communal bonds that stretch spatial borders and global boundaries. How people live within this society and how they perceive it indicates power, and performance, in how people use, translate, and describe space hence highlighting issues of memory and reinterpretation. Csilla maneuvered within the medical system only to become frustrated and alienated to the point of seeking alternative explanations for her illness. Though every culture and every individual has unique practices there can be a sense of recognition by others. A self-recognition of human conditions and experiences, that “Ah ha – I see a bit of myself” moment that connects people, creates a pattern of recognition that gives an illusion of cultural continuity. Narrations organize and make sense of fragmented space and create and confirm a sense of boundary. Everyday life is repetitive and can be unconscious. People may consciously or unconsciously navigate through society, society being an interconnection of institutions, governments, and cultural practices and traditions that produce an understanding of the culture as a unified whole. Socialist time and space created societal constraints that impacted personal practices affecting how individuals saw the world and their place in it (Verdery, What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next?, 1996, pp. 47, 57, 122–123). In the 1990s people readily compared Socialist stories about the difficulties of finding resources and longed for a new Market Economy rich with a variety of material goods. In the 1990s, the frustrations of Socialist time, “flattened, immobilized, and rendered non-linear (Verdery, What Was Socialism, and What Comes Next?, 1996, p. 35),” and restricted spaces were still fresh in people’s minds. The Socialist architectural agenda tried to establish communal housing and domestic architectural space to produce an equitable good life for the most people (Buchli, 2000). People struggled within these small spaces and longed for an imagined vision of spacious and modern environments (Fehérváry, American Kitchens, 2002). People still complained about the old state controlled system, with its wasted time and lack of merchandise. These complaints were in sharp

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contrast to their eagerness to experience capitalist society. There was an imagined notion of the Capitalist West as more efficient, more modern, and hence better. Later people realized the transition to a market economy created new problems that changed the spatial and temporal environment and their point of view of the past. They longed for a previous imagined notion of capitalism as well as contemporaneous accouterments of socialist society. Symbolic cues particularly found in popular culture indicate a time period or shared experiences among certain age cohorts that contribute to common understandings of the past. To paraphrase Clifford Geertz, a symbol can be a marker of society as well as a marker for society. A symbol can be a means in which shared members of a society create meaning (Bellah, Madsen, Sullivan, Swidler, & Steven, 1985). Ortner defines elaborating symbols as being concerned with beliefs on how the world works and how people should act within it (Ortner, 2008). Symbolic markers that frame the socialist period and postsocialist periods help people understand their society and their place within it. Cultural symbols can inform constructions of identity and contribute to explanations of the past. Viktor recalls the loss of his family land due to Communal farming practices yet seeks to symbolically identify with farming heritage through a reinvented “traditional” harvest festival. Pisti’s struggles with the economic crisis of 2008 and a Swiss bank mortgage can make it understandable why he has a special fondness for symbolic Communist kitsch that sparks memories of a childhood free from worry. Given the impact of cultural transformation on personal experience recurrent themes emerge, such as a tension between the old and new, and changing perspectives of the past. 3

Neo-Traditionalism and Hyper-Modernity: Generational Differences and Revisions of History

As the people of my study indicate, individual perception of history is not static so that their sense of themselves changes as they age. Their place in society changes and in addition the society itself has dramatically changed. This altered sense of being impacts how they see themselves and the world around them. Though there may have been problems during the Communist era such as limited goods, under-the-table favoritism and bribery, they are not the same problems that have arisen post communism such as economic strain, homelessness, and unemployment. Reclaiming an “authentic” version of everyday reality outside the official state leads to a tendency to compare the present with the past where the problems of the past seem to be overlooked. Emphasis

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on the “everyday reality” of the past overshadows the broader historical political contexts. A response to the changing society has been a revival of traditional practices and values while at the same time the society rapidly adjusts to a globalized world. How does a society integrate the past and present? On the one hand there have been vast improvements to the society such as access to a broader range of goods and services, the ability to travel more freely, and incorporation with Western society. On the other hand there appears to be a fear of losing what is distinctly Hungarian and a widening gap between classes and groups of peoples. The resurrection of old cold war tensions in present day media forces us to reconsider the different ways people view the past and present day society drawing attention to generational differences and the significance of understanding the perceptions of those with first-hand experience of the socialist period and how they understand their society today. Though Prime minister Viktor Orbán famously emerged as a leader during the late 1980s declaring the end of the Cold War as Hungary distanced from its Soviet ties and opened doors to the West, ironically in 2016 seems to be reaffirming ties with Russia and rebuilding fences to shut Hungary’s borders. These illustrate forms of etatization and its ability to control space and human movement. Spatial and temporal shifts impact personal practices and have led to a re-interpretation of the past. Today, many of the Socialist perks that lingered into the post-socialist period are fading away. The state can no longer afford to have post offices in every neighborhood, or schools in remote villages. Those particularly affected by the reduction in state provided services have been the elderly. Eliza (1928) complains she can no longer walk around the corner to the post office to pay her utility bills or mail a letter; she must take a bus into town. It takes her more time and effort to travel farther away so she lets letters pile on her table until she must finally go. The critique of the Socialist era softens. The thrill of the new market economy stales. They must now adapt to a society attached to a common EU market, a society facing economic and financial difficulties, and a wave of emigration as Hungarians seek jobs outside the country, while at the same time Chinese, African, and Syrian immigrants want to come in. New technology and globalization impact their experiences and to some extent further stretch generational divides. Within this context old forms of exchange continue. Families form globalized bonds as they transport gifts and use the Internet or cell phones to communicate. Older women share resources to get by on a limited income. Doctors still take “gifts” to perform services for their patients. The past is remembered nostalgically, the shortcomings re-remembered in a kitschy laughable way.

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Symbolic cues unite a generation of people together and contribute to reevaluations of the past. In the early 1990s, symbolic markers represented the excitement over the influx of Western culture. Levis jeans had once been a marker of products from the West. One informant (Gyuszi b. 1956) told me how he had saved a month’s salary to buy a Levis Jacket from an underground source only to find it was not made of blue denim but rather brown corduroy. Though disappointed at first, he could not pass up the opportunity to have a Levis Jacket. Hungary had already started producing Levis Jeans in the 1980s (Lemon, 2003, p. 35). The first McDonald’s in the posh Váci Utca area of Budapest had lines around the block because people wanted to experience products from the West. McDonald’s symbolized Western consumption, efficiency, and modernity. The products of the West represented access to material goods, modernity, and an answer to their societal problems (Fehérváry, American Kitchens, 2002). Later in the transition, symbolic markers show the interest in the West beginning to wane and fantasized versions of the past prospering. An elderly man (Gyuszi b. 1931) told me he went to buy a soda at McDonald’s but they had cheated him by putting ice in his drink. He had been used to buying beverages by the deciliter, chilled in the refrigerator, but without ice. Few elderly frequent Western fast food chains, and most of the older women I interviewed had never eaten at a restaurant. This is a Western concept and simply something they cannot afford, and in addition there is a sense of honor and pride in their own home cooking. Early in the transition, bananas were still perceived as an exotic luxury from the West (Lemon, 2003, p. 41). In 1993, I would ask Ica (b. 1931) if I could bring her something from the green grocers, and she always said bananas, yet by 2007, bananas had lost their luster. She no longer expressed the same thrill as when I first brought them in the early 90s. Much of their understanding of today’s society is informed by what they see on TV – programs from the West, stories of crime, and a poor economy (West, 2002). Gabi prefers Hungarian produce and distrusts the new Chinese immigrants and their produce, disliking the bitter taste of their poppy seeds, for example. Using Hungarian poppy seeds in her strudel (rétes) not only indicates a gastronomic decision, but also an expression of Hungarianness. Symbolic cues indicate changing perspectives of the past. Through a fondness for past material culture there is a reclaiming of an imagined version of everyday reality during the Communist era as a response to their dissatisfaction with present day society. People rework symbols of the past to fit within today’s society. Some may cling to the peasant as a pre-Soviet symbol that marks their ‘ethnic’ identity, resistance, and ties to the land. This sense of self gives them meaning in what

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may be perceived as an unfair society today. Communist symbols of the past take on new meaning for different peoples. For elder individuals they may spark memories of the past, for a younger generation they may be associated with a retro fashion trend, and for a Westerner they may be perceived souvenirs of an exotic cold war ‘Other’. When recent editorials highlight a rise in old cold war tensions are they simplifying the present day condition with old binary perceptions of East vs. West, and the “cold war other”? There are generational differences, as well as technological differences. Globalization along with the Internet’s rapid and prevalent spread of information impacts young and old in different ways. Politics today intertwines with a globalized market system and international trade. There are growing threats of terrorism. The current East-West tensions no longer trigger along ideological lines of Communist versus Market society. Nevertheless it is easy to revert back to old simplistic categories rather than recognize their complicated and intertwined connections that dangerously overlook the complexity of historical and political conditions. I have argued to look at the complicated ways people perceive the past, and how this past affects their perceptions and possible actions today. Soft contours unfold instead of hard binary opposites of East versus West, and Communist versus Capitalist societies. Etatization and the states attempt to control bodies, through the criminalization of homelessness, and the criminalization of people who attempted to help the refugees. Propaganda billboards such as the pretty young woman who does not like illegal migrants reaffirms and promotes the states beliefs. The state’s tactics to seize time and manipulate bodies in space extends not simply through its efforts to stop migrant flows through Hungary, but also to impact Hungarian citizens themselves. In an effort to limit the flow of migrants the state made it a crime to help them. On the one hand they targeted disreputable human traffickers taking fees to smuggle migrants, but the state also made it a crime for anyone who might simply volunteer for free to help drive a migrant from one point to another. The police also have the right to search a private residence if they suspect a citizen might be harboring a migrant. Hence, well-intentioned volunteers may decide not to help for fear of being arrested. To some extent these practices aim to maintain, protect, and affirm nationalist identity. Neo-traditionalist turns re-invent and justify Hungarian identity. Nostalgia for the past in a way is a present day lionized reconstruction of what communism was. In the past the people who lived during the Socialist era might have looked at capitalism as a panacea but upon reflection from the perspective of present day society this may have been a false ideal; they had been looking for sanction that did not end up playing

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out illustrating the precariousness and uncertainty of human expectations. Everyday practices such as gift exchange, food procurement, healthcare, traditional and symbolic expressions underline how personal practices give political voice as agents re-work, understand, and negotiate societal change. The range of themes traced in this book give a glimpse into post-socialist Hungary and provides understandings of cultural transformation in today’s globalized world. I chose to focus on particular themes as I felt they could illustrate the ways in which the socialist past has impacted everyday practices today. The culture of adaptation that these themes reveal show the complicated ways in which people adapt to societal change and the ways in which the past informs the present indicating this is not the same type of Western Capitalist society as we know it. For an older generation this is not just nostalgia but rather a reclaiming of a past everyday life they had grown used to – one of shared communal bonding due to societal problems, a past rosy view of the potential promise of Western Capitalism, and the emotional connection to their youth. People negotiate family ties; forget problems of the past, and reinvent national identities. They may say they are not political, but their personal everyday actions prove otherwise.

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Index Abortion 62 See also pronatalism  Ács, Irén 173, 177 Agriculture 9, 15, 17, 80 See also collective farm; Mezögazdasági Termelö Szövetkezet (TSZ) Alienation 27, 99–107, 112–114, 121–136 Anderson, Benedict 96 Andorka, Rudolf 13, 16–17, 52 Antall, Jószef 19 Anti-feminism 65–66 Anti-Semitism 24 Architecture 49, 61, 63, 153 See also space  Asad, Talal 147 Ash, Timothy Garton 19 Bach, Jonathan 144–145, 148, 162, 167 Bakhtin, Mikhail 140–141, 167, 174, 180, 182 Balibar, Etienne 22 Ballengee, Morris 159 Banovich, Tamás 80 Barter 54 See also economy of shortage; reciprocity Berdahl, Daphne 143, 146, 175, 181 Berlin Wall 2, 19, 147–148 Bernard, Russell H. 8 Binary power tensions 4–5, 45, 152, 156, 170–171, 197 Black market 9, 53, 124, 149 See also second economy Blasszauer, Bela 56, 134 Body 27, 79 Body politic 114–133 Individual Body 104, 105–107, 133–134 Social body 107–114 Boncz, Imre 121 Bourdieu, Pierre 2–3, 25, 92–93, 128 Boym, Svetlana 141–142, 167 Bribes 4, 114–115, 119, 166, 184, 191, 194 Blat 39, 53 Gratitude money 111, 115

Protekció 54, 58, 115 Zsíros pénz 115 Buda, László 132 Burawoy, Michael 180 Caldwell, Melissa L. 40, 53–54, 58–60, 63, 68 Carnivalesque 137 Censorship 52, 154, 182, 184 Chernobyl 119 Code Switching 2 Cold War 4, 19, 28, 31, 139, 161, 167, 171, 180, 195 Cold War “Other” 146–157, 159, 197 Collective Farm 12, 26–27, 80, 92, 98 See also Mezögazdasági Termelö Szövetkezet (TSZ) Communism 4–6, 15–19, 24, 26, 28, 52, 83–84, 107, 140, 147–148, 153, 156–157, 171–172, 174–186 Communist kitsch 28–29, 137–186 See also kitschification Communitas 43–44 Connell, John 108 Conspiracy theory 102, 117, 118, 119, 136 Consumption 16–18, 36, 39, 52–55, 60–61, 67–68, 88, 92, 104, 144–152, 162–165, 191, 196 Politicized consumption 177–182 Counihan, Carole 38 Creed, Gerald W. 22, 97 Cronk, Lee 42–43 Czechoslovakia 12, 140 de Certeau, Michel 25, 51, 141, 193 Defectors 32, 79 Democracy 12, 19, 30 Dogossy, Katalin 172–174 Double Burden 63 East Germany 137, 143, 145–146, 148, 162, 174–175, 179, 181 See also GDR Economy of shortage 4, 15, 39, 51–53, 57, 59, 61, 148, 165–166, 189, 191

214 Ehrlich, Eva 17–19 Elderly 18, 25, 26, 33, 37, 40, 42, 46, 48, 51, 55–72, 104–108, 110–112, 120–136, 163, 176, 189–198 See also senior; pensioner Embodiment 26, 33, 36, 44–47, 76, 80, 84, 99, 104, 112–113, 125, 127 Etatization 78–79, 187, 189–190, 195, 197 European Union (EU) 6, 20–21, 29–31, 139, 163, 172, 184, 187, 190, 195 Evans-Pritchard, Edward E. 121, 129–130 Fábry, Sándor 28–29, 137–139, 177–184 Faith 123, 132 Fehérváry, Krisztina 63–65, 68, 147, 162–163, 181 Fetishism 113, 128, 131–133, 170 Fidesz 19, 21, 29–30, 173–174, 178, 184, 187 See also political parties Five Year Plan: Terv 166 Folklore 27, 31, 75, 77, 191 See also neo-traditionalism Food Food and identity 37, 40, 64 Food procurement strategy 15, 26, 31, 48–73 Food Lines 53, 149 See also consumption; economy of shortage Friedan, Betty 65, 190 Gaál, Péter 107 Gal, Susan 5 Garbai, Sándor 12 GDR 143–148, 179, 181 See also East Germany Gender 9, 26, 51, 61–72, 103 Generational Differences 5–6, 29, 31, 37, 39, 55, 58, 67–72, 87, 95–96, 104, 139, 142, 161–171, 181–185, 189, 192 Generational divide and kitsch 171–174 Generational differences and revisions of history 194–198 Georgescu, Diana 167–170, 181 German Democratic Republic (GDR)  143–148, 179, 181 Gerő, Ernő 15–16 Ghodsee, Kristen 2

Index Gift 32–47, 115, 191, 193, 195, 198 See also reciprocity Globalization 19–20, 32–33, 41, 45, 87, 113–114, 184, 191, 192, 195, 197 Gorbachev 19, 147 Goulash Communism 16, 52 Gypsies 6, 13, 124, 130 See also Roma Habitus 24, 92, 142 Haney, Lynne 64–67 Hann, Chris 78–79 Harvey, David 45 Healthcare 18, 27–28, 100–136, 190, 191, 198 History Everyday personal history 174–176, 179–186 Hoarding 17, 52–54, 61, 71 See also economy of shortage Hobsbawm, Eric 95–96 Hofi, Géza 178–179 Hollan, Douglas W. 10–11 Homeless 21–22, 84, 153, 184, 194, 197 Horn, Gyula 19 Horthy, Miklós 12, 154 Horváth, Ilona 70 Hospitality 8, 9, 25, 33–34, 36, 41–42, 72, 90 Hospitality as gift and social bonding 37–40 Housing 21, 39, 56, 63, 153, 156, 193 See also architecture Humor 28, 83, 137–141, 145, 165, 170–171, 174–177, 181–186, 192 See also Fábry Sándor; Hofi Géza; parody Hypermarkets (Tesco, Auchan) 58, 60, 61 Hyper-modernity 194 Identity 2–4, 6–8, 21, 24–26, 37, 44–47, 64, 66, 68, 70, 73, 139–140 National identity 22, 27, 30, 74–77, 83–99, 143–145, 187–198 Imagined view of West 68, 193–194 Inflation 19, 31, 55, 61, 104, 111, 114, 125, 182 James, Beverly A. 151 Janscó, Miklós 80 Jews 24, 167

Index Jobbik Party 22  See also political parties Kádár, János 16, 164, 176–178 Kapitány, Ágnes 55 Károlyi, Alexander 11–12 Kitschification 28–29, 137, 139–141, 147–148, 152, 156–158, 161, 171, 174–175, 180, 182–186  See also Communist kitsch Kleinman, A. 10 Kligman, Gail 2, 9, 77, 82–83, 192 Kressing, Frank 132 Kun, Béla 12 Kun, Viktória 119 Kundera, Milan 140 Kürti, Lázló 123–124, 132 Labor 52, 62–63, 71, 82–84, 113, 133, 138  Household labor 63, 67–68, 71 Labor Camps 15–16, 170 Land 27, 73, 76–77, 80–84, 86–87, 92–99  See also property Lankauskas, Gediminas 68–69 Lázár, Imre 132 Lee, Richard 42–43, 61 Lefebvre, Henri 45 Lenin, Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov 15, 28, 151, 156–159, 170–171, 175–176, 184, 191 Levy, Robert I. 11 Life Expectancy 55, 118 Life History 5, 7–8, 10–11 Liminality 4, 26, 43 Linquist, Galina 128, 131 London, EL. 114 Magic 100, 102, 113, 121, 125, 127–131, 136 Malinowski, Bronislaw 102, 121, 125, 129, 130–131 Market Economy 2–6, 9, 16, 18, 19, 21, 24, 26, 31, 39, 50, 52, 55–56, 59, 65–66, 70–71, 84, 90, 92, 99, 100, 103–104, 107, 110–111, 114, 128–129, 133, 135, 140, 146–147, 162, 165, 170, 173, 175, 180, 189, 193–197 Martin, Emily 112–113 Marx, Karl 15, 28, 113–114, 128–129, 133, 137, 160, 170, 176, 180, 185, 186 Marxim Pub 170–171, 182

215 Mauss, Marcel 36–38, 41, 45–46 McDonalds 58, 84, 175, 196 Memory 26–30, 74, 83, 85, 94, 96–97, 137, 139, 143, 156, 161–165, 169, 171–177, 179–184, 189–193 Mezögazdasági Termelö Szövetkezet (TSZ)  77, 80–82, 86–87, 92–93, 96 See also collective farming Migration 8, 21, 24, 25, 31, 32, 33, 42, 45, 79, 108, 187–188, 195, 196–197 Miyoshi, M. 20 Monuments 1, 15, 79, 154–156 Imre Nagy Statue 155 Memento Park (Statue Park) 150–152 Monument Obelisk for Red Army 154–155 Ronald Reagan Statue 154–156 Morris, Lydia 20 Mystification 27, 100, 102, 104–105, 112–114, 117, 135–136 Mystification and Body Politic 121–133 Nadkarni, Maya 140–142, 152, 159, 162, 165, 169–171, 173 Nagy, Imre 15–16, 19, 155 Nation State 19–20, 33, 41, 45, 191 Nationalism 20, 22, 26, 31, 68, 80, 93, 96–98, 189, 192 See also identity Nazi 12, 81, 154 Némedi, Dénes 87 Neo-traditionalism 73, 75, 189–191, 194–198 See also folklore; tradition New Economic Mechanism (NEM) 16–17 North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO)  19 Nostalgia 1–2, 6, 28, 31, 137, 139–149, 159, 162–167, 172–173, 175, 179–182, 189–190, 197–198 Orbán, Viktor 19, 21, 24, 29–30, 145, 154–155, 173, 184, 187, 195 Ortner, Sherry 76, 148, 194 Other, The 4, 147–148, 153 See also post-colonial studies; subaltern Parody 83, 137, 140, 142, 144, 167, 170, 180, 182 See also humor

216 Patico, Jennifer 39–40 Peasants 9, 15, 26–27, 73–99, 191, 196 Pensioner 71, 100, 104, 110–114, 120 See also elderly; senior Petite Bourgeoisie 17, 66, 170 Petőfi, Sándor 80 Platt, Kevin M.F. 161–162 Platz, Dale 39 Poland 15, 19 Political Parties 19, 52, 56, 77 Alliance of Young Democrats: Fidesz (Fiatal Demokraták Szövetsége) 19, 21, 29, 30, 174, 179, 184, 187 Arrow Cross Party 166 Communist Party 11–19, 80, 142–143, 154, 156, 163, 167, 182 Hungarian Socialist Party: MszP (Magyar Szocialista Párt) 19, 30, 174 Hungarian Working People’s Party (Magyar Dolgozók Pártja, MDP)  13–17 Movement for a better Hungary: Jobbik (Jobbik Magyarországért Mozgalom) 22 National peasant party (Nemzeti Parasztpárt) 80 Politics can be different party (Lehet Más a Politika) 174 Post-colonial Studies 4, 146, 159, 177 See also The Other; subaltern Privatization 19 Pronatalism 66 Propaganda 15, 82, 119, 139, 143, 152, 153, 156, 170, 177, 197 Property 9, 15, 52 See also land Public / Private space 3, 5, 10, 63–65, 67–69, 71 Putin, Vladimir 22, 154 Racism 22, 24, 192 Rajk, László 15 Rákosi, Mátyás 15, 80 Randall Mack, G. 63, 67 Reagan, Ronald 19, 147, 154–156 Reciprocity 33, 38, 40–42, 53–54, 113, 191 See also gift Red Terror 12 Redistribution 9, 107, 113, 115, 166, 178

Index Religion 45, 67, 77–78, 81, 153 Retirement 39, 55–56, 63, 71, 111, 153 See also pension Retro 28, 137–140, 148, 161–171, 173, 175, 182, 190, 197 Revitalization 85, 96–97, 127 Revolution, 1956 15–16, 32, 49, 52, 63, 79–82, 153, 155, 174 Ries, Nancy 57 Roma 21, 22 See also Gypsy Roman Catholic Church 77–78, 80 Romania 2, 9, 77, 82 Rosaldo, Renato 134 Russia 12, 17, 22, 24, 29, 30, 39, 53, 57, 63, 67, 80–82, 108, 128–129, 131, 154–155, 167, 184, 195 Rusu, Ioana 21 Sahlins, Marshall 38, 40 Said, Edward 5 Scheper-Hughes, Nancy 103, 133 Scott, James C. 77, 190 Second (informal) economy 17–19, 52–53 See also Black Market Semashko, Nikolai Aleksandrovich 107–108 Senior 33, 51, 56, 58, 61, 63, 66, 68, 70–71, 100, 104, 112, 163, 174 See also elderly; pensioner Serbia 12 Shaman 100, 105, 124–127, 131–133 Sharp, Lesley A. 113, 130–131 Shevchenko, Olga 67–68, 140–142, 159, 162, 165 Shortages See barter; economy of shortage; hoarding. Sikstrom, L.F. 113–114, 130 Socialism 4–5, 16–18, 30–31, 52, 64–66, 75, 82, 84, 139, 146, 159, 165, 173, 176, 178, 180–181, 189–190, 193 Souvenirs 28, 157–161, 180, 184, 197 Soviet Union 9, 12, 166 See also Russia Space 1–6, 25–27, 30–33, 36, 42–47, 62–75, 95, 99, 113, 139–141, 156–166, 173, 189, 191–195, 197 See also Public / Private space Sputnik 167, 169, 180 Stalin, Joseph 15, 156, 170–171

217

Index State run stores 175 See also economy of shortage Statues See monuments Steger, Manfred 20, 41 Stewart, Susan 144–145 Sturken, Marita 165–166 Subaltern 4 See also post-colonial studies Symbols 1, 7, 15, 19, 24, 27–28, 30, 32, 36, 41, 45, 47, 64, 73–85, 87, 92–93, 96–99, 103, 110, 112–113, 120, 131, 137, 139, 141–143, 146–152, 156–157, 173, 180–181–184, 189–194, 196–198 Elaborating 148–152, 194 Multi-vocal 76, 83, 92–93, 137, 139, 140, 146, 190 Summarizing 28, 76 Szelényi, Ivan 17 Szobor park See monuments Tamanoi, Mariko Asano 97 Tarr, Béla 63 Taussig, Michael 127–129, 133 Ten Dyke, Elizabeth A. 174–175, 179–180 Textual Analysis 26, 33, 34–36, 75, 191 Time and Space 2–4, 26, 31, 36, 44–45, 194–195 Time-Space Compression 33, 45 Tourism Communist Tours 27, 138, 148–157, 182 Communist era travel limitations 24, 32, 147, 153, 156 Heritage tourism 93 Medical Tourism 108–109 Western tourists 111, 139, 146–148, 152–157, 159–163, 167, 171, 184 See also souvenirs Trabant 148–149, 161, 176, 179 Tradition 6, 8, 16, 27, 33, 48, 57, 68, 73–99, 122, 142, 171, 189, 194–195 Traditions of hospitality 37–40

Traditional folk healers 125–126, 129, 131–132 See also neo-traditionalism Transition 2–10, 19, 27, 31, 43, 55, 60, 71, 75, 85, 92–93, 96–97, 100, 103–104, 110, 112, 117, 121, 123, 133, 135, 169–170, 174, 180–181, 184, 189, 194, 196 Travel Restrictions See tourism Trianon Treaty 12, 154 TSZ  See Mezögazdasági Termelö Szövetkezet; collective farming Turner, Victor W. 43–44 See also liminality Ukraine 84, 119 Unemployment 12, 19, 21, 55, 66, 71, 84, 172, 184, 194 “Us” vs. “them”/ East vs. West  See binary power tensions USSR See Soviet Union; Russia Valuch, Tibor 176–177 Verdery, Katherine 2, 4, 9, 62–63, 66, 77–79, 82–84, 103, 146, 150, 156, 171, 180–181, 192 Verhoven, Willem-Jan 55 Wallace, Anthony 85, 127 White, Carmen 159 Wikan, Unni 10 Williams, Raymond 45 Wine festival 73–99 Witchcraft See magic; Evans-Pritchard Wolf, Douglas 55 World War II 12–14, 81, 154 Yan, Yunxian 161 Young Pioneers Club (úttörő) 28, 139, 142–143, 163, 179, 182