Opinion: Celebrating our better angels
As I watched the news unfold about Viktor Orbán’s defeat in Hungary’s election, I felt a flood of emotions—relief, anxiety and a cautious hope. This moment is more than a political shift. It is deeply personal for me.
For Mississippians, Hungarian politics and the defeat of the country’s prime minister may seem far removed, but these events are deeply relevant to what’s happening in our own country, including our home state.
Years ago, I lived in Hungary on a Fulbright Scholarship to teach and research at the University of Pécs, during which I searched for my Jewish ancestors and wrote what would become my memoir, Where the Angels Lived. Like Mississippi, Hungary has always been a place layered with history, trauma and resilience. Orbán’s loss in the recent election is a turning point not only for the country but for those of us who carry Hungary’s legacy in our blood—and for those of us searching for signs of hope during the United States’ own authoritarian drift.
Viktor Orbán’s rise to power marked a stark transformation in Hungarian politics. A white Christian Nationalist, Orbán built his reputation promising to restore Hungary’s sovereignty and pride. Over the years, his government tightened its grip on institutions, rewriting the constitution and diminishing the independence of the media and judiciary. Orbán’s policies were often cloaked in populism, with rhetoric that targeted immigrants and minorities, including the Roma and the Jewish community. Antisemitism became more pronounced, fueled by nationalist narratives and historical revisionism. Orbán put up barbed-wire border fences and used water cannons to keep out refugees fleeing from war zones, while announcing to the world that his aim was “to keep Europe Christian.”
Orbán’s relationship with U.S. President Donald Trump, grounded in mutual admiration for bully tactics and anti-globalist messaging, further fortified his approach. Both leaders exploited grievances and fears, positioning themselves as defenders against external threats while undermining democratic norms and institutions. But he never made Hungary better. Most of my students moved out of the country to find work. Infrastructure deteriorated and healthcare suffered—all while Orbán and his family and friends got richer.
My time in Hungary was shaped by Orbán’s politics. Fulbright offered me an avenue to explore the country’s complex past, especially the fate of my Jewish relatives who lived, suffered and vanished in Pécs and in Budapest. Walking the streets where my ancestors once walked, I felt the weight of history pressing from all sides. The loss, the silence and the echoes of antisemitism still lingered. I felt an urgency to give a voice to the dead, especially when I saw so many Swastikas spray-painted on banks, cemeteries and schools.
The parallels between Hungary and the U.S. are unmistakable. Both nations have faced a surge in authoritarian tendencies. Leaders like Orbán and Trump tapped into discontent, often at the expense of minorities and democratic institutions. Antisemitism, once thought to be relegated to the past, found new forms—sometimes coded, other times in explicit attacks. Orbán started a sham historical institute called “Veritas,” which specializes in fake Hungarian history and where “scholars” openly question the Holocaust and Hungary’s undeniable role in it.
The threat to democracy is not abstract; it is real and personal. As a descendant of Hungarian Jews and as an observer of American politics, I’ve witnessed how quickly rights are eroded, how easily history is rewritten, and how fragile tolerance can be.
Orbán’s election loss signals an end and a beginning. But we all know authoritarianism doesn’t just disappear with a single election. Democracy and elections demand work. For America, Orbán’s defeat after 16 years in power offers a warning and a possibility that even entrenched systems can be challenged, that change is possible if we remain vigilant and committed to protecting democratic values.
As Hungary turns a new page, I’m reminded of my family’s struggles. Their name began with Engel, which means angel. Both living and lost angels guided me through my search, and I feel them hovering now. We need to pay attention and learn.
My own journey in Hungary taught me that the fight against authoritarianism and antisemitism is ongoing. It is also personal and collective. As the angels lived in Hungary, so, too, must hope and resilience, guiding us toward a more inclusive and just future.
Images: Dancers at a cultural festival in Pécs, Hungary (courtesy Pat O’Connor)
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