Ireland and the Hungary Connection: Reviewing and Reviving a Historical Parallel
This essay was originally featured on the Substack ‘Culture Crusade’.
Ireland’s Saga of National Parallels
It’s a common and natural phenomenon for nations to seek out other nations that share a similar national mythos. Historical parallels between countries are a powerful tool for self-understanding, for finding a natural ally, and for securing insights into the possibilities a nation might have within similar historical confines. Among the most recent generations of Irish nationalists, or more precisely, Republicans, we have seen a tendency to laud the connection with Palestine, or even with the ANC’s vision of black South Africa. This trend has brought upon Irish nationalism the grating charge of ‘third-worldism,’ and the discerning Irishman rightfully intuits the bad faith — and, frankly, the bad history — behind such arguments from our detractors. The vitriol directed at Irish nationalism from the Anglosphere right hinges on a dismal understanding of the history of Sinn Féin, the founders of which would make the current populist right’s rhetoric echo Antifa by comparison, and which was the polar opposite of ‘third-worldist’. It is arguably as recent as the late 1970s and early 80s when a leftward drift and emphasis on extra-European fellowship took root amongst Republicans, as the struggle of Palestine and South Africa began to resonate with their war against the Orange State. With the benefit of historical hindsight, it is hardly surprising that a militant Republican movement battling British forces during the Cold War era would pull further and further left in their political outlook. A distinctly anti-colonialist zeitgeist had risen to global cultural dominance, and a Marxist-influenced lexicon took root amongst nationalists who were conscious of the fact that their global moral support was increasingly attained from left-wing organisations. This was certainly intensified by the fact that amid the IRA’s campaign, Britain had donned her Thatcherite and neoliberal robes, further cementing the fact that Irish political retorts were to be indubitably left-wing.
In this briefest of summaries, we might get a hazy glimpse at the dialectical progression that has landed us at the cultural ascendency of the Ireland and Palestine comparison and, to a much lesser degree, post-apartheid South Africa. But the relative ease of this shift to the global south has not been without selective amnesia. The old alliance with the Boers, an incredibly momentous and formative chapter in Irish nationalist history, has long since faded into memory. Nationalist sentiments and sympathies have mostly moved in tandem with the victim hierarchy of the global left, leading to a once unconscionable position of backing black radicals against a white nation with a shared history of battling British forces. This southward drift has been persistent in the latter half of the 20th century and has led to a self-understanding increasingly divorced from European civilisation, occasional referrals to Basques and Catalans notwithstanding. It is one thing for a country’s Liberals to possess a boutique obsession with the global south, but having a large segment of nationalists do the same makes Ireland particularly vulnerable to mass migration, not to mention the shift from valour and martyrdom to maudlinness exacerbated by a self-image linked to the oppressed non-European world. Given such perils, the following paragraphs are a return to an oft-forgotten comparison —one that is older than any mentioned thus far— needed to recalibrate the nature of Ireland’s struggle. To this end, it is necessary to delve into the oft-overlooked Hungarian connection to Irish nationalism, expand on its history and, by reviving the comparison in today’s world, draw out some lessons from that ancient Kingdom. Rather fittingly, we shall begin by turning to the founder of Sinn Féin itself, Arthur Griffith.
Griffith and the Hungarian Connection
By the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, Griffith was one of the premier intellectual leaders of a resurgent Irish nationalism. In an epoch when Ireland looked to Europe for exemplars of small nations asserting independence, it was Hungary that emerged above all others as Ireland’s muse in this regard. Indeed, such was the feeling of camaraderie and respect for Hungary’s historical similarities and her successes that Griffith wrote an entire tome on the topic. Titled The Resurrection of Hungary: A Parallel for Ireland, the book was published in 1904 with the intention of using the case of Hungarian nationalists’ tactics as a sort of guidebook or map to freedom for Ireland. The impact of the book was significant at the time, but its influence is less known today. While it’s understood in Ireland that abstention from the Westminster parliament was a key action that led to the first Dáil, it is less widely known that Hungarian nationalists directly inspired the abstention tactics. Hungarian strategies were to prove a vital ingredient in Irish success, and it is an unfortunate case of national effrontery that we have not maintained a stronger connection with that nation that provided such national stimulus. We might still correct this, for there are still important lessons to be learned from a Hungarian/Irish comparison, which are arguably as relevant now as they were in 1904. Let us begin, then, with the pages of The Resurrection.
To make clear that he has not manufactured the comparison ex nihilo, Griffith begins The Resurrection of Hungary with a quote exhibiting the same observation by the previous generation of nationalists. In this case, the words are from William Smith O’Brien, who states, “The case of Ireland is as nearly as possible parallel to the case of Hungary." In the opening passages, Griffith conveys how much the literati of both nations have historically been aware of their similarities, even stating that earlier in the 19th century, the direction of inspiration was reversed, as ‘Ireland was Hungary’s exemplar’. The Irish provided literary inspiration wherein the ‘poet precursors of Free Hungary -Bacsanyi and Vorosmarty- drank in Celtic inspiration, and the journalists of Young Hungary taught their people that Ireland had baffled a tyranny as great as that which threatened death to Hungary.’ Griffith goes on to describe the state of privation in Hungary before their legislative separation from Austria and how the sorry state of their economy and language was to be turned on its head. It is this change of fortunes that he concentrates on as a case study, showing that through national government, the Hungarian language was thriving in a newly confident literature and had achieved a more equitable land system and economy.
Much like Ireland after the Act of Union, Hungary had similarly been erased from the maps of the world during its union with Austria. But rumblings of national feeling discontent with Austrian dominance could be seen in the reassertion of the national language in the early 1800s as the Magyar fight for sovereignty gathered pace. Political upheaval reached a crescendo in 1848 with the Hungarian Revolution when, inspired by the revolutions sweeping across Europe that same year, Hungarians attempted to assert independence from Austria. Led by Kossuth, the Hungarian Parliament declared a series of liberal reforms, including the establishment of a national government separate from Austrian control. The Hungarian Republic was proclaimed by Kossuth, but it was not to last long. An Austrian army, with the aid of its Russian allies, crushed the Hungarian uprising by August 1849. Kossuth was forced into exile, and Hungary was placed under harsh Austrian rule, with mass imprisonments and executions of nationalist leaders and activists. Hungarian losses were severe, with some accounts of 50,000 dead. To add insult to injury, the furious Austrians committed to a punitive policy of Germanisation, which included the suppression of the Magyars’ Uralic tongue. Such was the repression that Griffith even compares the carnage and sorry state of defeated Hungary in 1849 to Ireland after Aughrim. But even in this national nadir, all was not lost. From the ashes of this defeat, Hungary would emerge as defiant as ever and equipped with new tactics under the leadership of the statesman Ferenc Deák, who would initiate non-violent resistance against the Austrians. In a drawn-out diplomatic conflict, Hungarian politicians boycotted the Austrian Parliament, refused to recognise Austrian laws, and demanded the recognition of their constitution and the levels of sovereignty it implied. An independent parliament was non-negotiable, though acknowledging the Habsburg monarch as the ruler of both countries was seen as a necessary compromise.
From the language employed by Griffith, you get a sense of his frustration that Irish politicians did not have the same gall during the 19th century to mirror the grand strategy that forced Austria to grant self-rule in 1867. He laments that the Irish approach to securing some level of sovereignty through home rule had relied entirely upon English ‘goodwill’ instead of drastic but peaceful action. Having suffered a series of military defeats, Austria was forced to negotiate, ultimately leading to the Austro-Hungarian Compromise of 1867. Deák’s astute diplomacy delivered for Hungary a renewed parliament and direction over her domestic affairs. The Habsburgs remained in place as heads of state through a dual monarchy model, and Austria also retained control over much of the foreign and military policy. Crucially, in a gesture that assuaged the wounded pride of the Magyars, Hungary became a co-equal partner in the empire.
Ireland, Hungary, and the Colony Question
Leaving Griffith aside at this juncture, it is worth juxtaposing some other elements of each country’s saga. One such element is how the conception of relatively parallel imperial relations of both countries has diverged significantly over time. It has not gone unremarked upon that Ireland mirrors Hungary in its complex relationship to the empire it forged when part of an asymmetrical union. Prince Ferenc Rákóczi II, leader of the 1703–11 independence campaign against the Habsburgs, was amongst the first to draw a national parallel between the injustice suffered by the countries at the hands of their larger, more belligerent neighbours. Though his rebellion failed, Rákóczi briefly dethroned the Habsburgs in 1707, likening his campaign to that of James II’s 1690 attempt to reclaim the crown via Ireland. He also lamented that Hungary’s constitutional ties to Austria were being abused, as Austria treated Hungary as England did Ireland— as a “conquered country” without “ever having conquered it”. Whether one agrees with the finer details of the prince’s historical interpretation (one could see the betrayal of the Treaty of Limerick as the real end of Gaelic Ireland achieved by a perfidious refusal to honour terms rather than full military victory), other similarities between the kingdoms certainly abound. The Habsburgs’ introduction of Germanic settlers such as Swabians or actual Austrians into Hungary after Rákóczi’s failed rebellion corresponds to the British settlement of Ulster. Both cases saw the strategic plantations of loyal populations to consolidate royal control. In Hungary, Swabians were settled to repopulate war-torn areas and reinforce Habsburg influence, leaving a significant modern population numbering in the hundreds of thousands. Much like Protestant settlers in Ulster, they have left a legacy of an altered demographic and cultural landscape in certain regions.
Certain Imperial stereotypes also resonate between the two kingdoms, with both nations garnering a reputation as warrior peoples and sharing a claim of descent from steppe tribes: the Gael from the Scythian and the Hungarian from the Magyar. Both aristocracies shared a fiercely independent warrior ethos, with their military traditions and martial prowess making them prominent features of European warfare as sought-after mercenaries. These talents would, of course, catch the eyes of the imperial powers they were bound up with. Just as Irish soldiers were significantly overrepresented in the British army in the 19th century, so too was there a disproportionate number of Hungarians in the ranks of the Austrian army. Just as Irish soldiers were instrumental in the British victory at Waterloo, so too did the Hungarian soldiers secure vital Imperial victories. While Hungary was subordinate to Austria before 1867, a colonial framing was generally avoided since it had its own historical statehood, nobility, and legal traditions. Ireland has a mixed pedigree in this regard, with some centuries passing by without the nationalist struggle for sovereignty being framed as anti-colonial. In the 18th and 19th centuries, grievances with English exploitation and subjugation tended to be expressed in terms of legislative and cultural sovereignty, such as the violation of Ireland’s rights under medieval agreements like Poynings' Law (1494) and later the Act of Union (1801). Even radical movements like the United Irishmen had a lexicon of republicanism and universal liberty rather than colonial oppression. Ireland was a kingdom with a parliament having its rights, dignity and self-determination trampled by the English establishment. That England could oscillate between the view of her neighbour as being a small sister kingdom and being a colonial possession, depending on what type of diplomacy best served their interests at a given time, was highly objectionable to the Irish, both Catholic and Protestant alike. One could even parse from this that Ireland objected to being treated as a colony, but did not acquiesce to an identity of being a colony, a point contrary to much contemporary historical appraisals (this view is nothing new and one can look to centuries old defences of Irish kingdomhood such as the writings of Molyneaux).
Having initially shared this rhetoric of sovereignty trampled and the self-determination of kingdoms over that of colonial oppression, the timeline of national freedom was a significant factor in the divergence of self-conception. The compromise of 1867 granted Hungary substantial internal self-governance, but Ireland would have to wait until 1921 for British recognition of an Irish parliament. By this later date, the colonial analysis had become a more prominent aspect within Irish nationalism. Fenian figures such as John Mitchel had used the colonial framing in the 19th century, but it was still not conceptually mainstream. By the 20th century, this had changed, and anti-colonialism was a significant intellectual force both globally and increasingly in Ireland. For the Hungarian nation, the absence of lachrymose post-colonial victim narratives has made opposition to mass migration psychologically easier. They are liberated from a constant contention with flippant ‘sure aren’t we a colony/opressed/went everywhere’ ergo ‘open the floodgates’ type of arguments. Instead, modern Hungary can proudly advocate for the solidarity of European Christendom without the impediment of such national psychological complexes, leveraged as they are by bad actors within Ireland.
A Hungarian Model for Ireland in a Modern World in Flux
This little slice of Hungarian history gives us a good idea of the struggles it shared with Ireland. But it is my contention that the parallels with Hungary are not only historically profound, but they are also politically and morally useful in our current predicament. It would be prudent of us to revive Griffith’s project once more and look to Hungary for inspiration in an increasingly volatile European political theatre. As the former head of MI5 recently divulged on British television, we are living in a “new world… We’re moving from rules and institutions to strong men and deals.” Now, despite the reputation of that organisation in Ireland, they are, at the very least, a bellwether for the direction of international relations. The dawn of this new era brings a departure from the 20th-century world order, where appeals to sovereignty will be less based on appeals to a rights-based international system. The global order resembles less and less the stable international Wilsonian liberalism for nation-states that has dominated the West since WW1. Increasingly, states are exercising their expansive capacities without much heed to international institutions that were established under American hegemony. In its place, a multipolar world is tentatively taking shape, where the fractured nature of the global system means interntaional governmental bodies like the UN are taken less seriously and are impotent to enforce an international rights-based system.
Ahead of the pack on this matter of instability, Hungary is relevant here as it has taken steps to ensure its own sovereignty in an increasingly multipolar world. Despite its position between big power blocs, it has managed good diplomacy between them, leveraging its connectivity and middle position for its benefit. The geopolitical landscape of Hungary and Ireland can seem quite different at a glance. As a landlocked country, Hungary is essentially an extensive basin; the mountain ranges that surround the plain and which could act as a natural boundary and barrier to foreign incursions are within the boundaries of other countries. Romania has held the Carpathians since WWI, Austria has held the Alps, and Slovakia has held the hills to the north. In particular, eastern Romania and southern Slovakia are territories that have significant Hungarian populations and are the result of the territories being stripped from the Kingdom of Hungary in the wake of defeat in WWI and the ensuing Treaty of Trianon in 1920. Invasions have been a historical constant for Hungary, but its potential to repel external aggressors has been hampered by the loss of its mountainous frontiers, which were the natural boundaries of the old kingdom. Being positioned between major powers from all directions of the compass, Hungary has a history of having to deal with invasions; with Austria from the west by way of the Habsburgs, Russians from the east via Imperial armies and later Soviet incursions such as 1944 and 1956, and Ottoman incursions from the south. Yet, for as much as this geographical malaise makes defence precarious, especially post-Trianon Treaty, it also positions Hungary at a crossroads for trade between the west and east, which, with the added natural resource of the Danube, equips it with significant economic connectivity. Ireland, too, is in an economic corridor —paradoxically peripheral and well placed— that lies at a crossroads of the EU, US, and UK. Hungary has learned to exploit its position between East and West through membership in the EU while also keeping cordial relations and trading ties with other players such as Russia and China.
Ireland can and should appropriate the tenets of Hungarian foreign policy for her own ends, and retain interconnectedness with the global economy, but become assertive for her own national interests rather than hiding under the proverbial skirt of Brussels or Washington (or being shoved under the skirt of London if I may finish this unfortunate analogy.) Geopolitical realities for Hungary have a huge bearing on foreign policy and economics, but what lessons could a windswept island in the North Atlantic take from a landlocked central European state? Firstly, Ireland may be an island nation, but it also has a compromised security derived from territorial loss after the 1922 Anglo-Irish treaty. This and extremely close geographical proximity to a traditional adversary in England constitute Ireland’s own geopolitical malaise that has some similarities to Hungary. Island-wide use of a natural sea border and a cohesive naval defence are made difficult, if not impossible, by the existence of two states sharing one island, which at times have differing friend/enemy distinctions. A large body of water is a wonderful defensive asset only if the inhabitants surrounded by it are on the same page politically and have a sufficiently serious naval force to defend said waters. Currently, Ireland possesses neither and without which the surrounding seas take on a different role as a defensive liability. Military vessels can be carried on such watery highways to undefended Irish shores as rapidly as any tank battalions from Moscow can break into the Hungarian plains. Hungary has managed to make the most of its position through a multi-vector approach to foreign policy, and just as importantly, strong leadership.
Orbán and the Future Irish Strongman
The very term ‘strong leadership’ amongst the European right increasingly connotes Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, who has proven to be perhaps the most astute European political leader in recent times. After decades under the Soviet thumb, Hungary has emerged as a powerful nationalist voice of reason in Europe. Orbán and his Fidesz party have done much to arrest the demographic decline of their nation, passing many pro-natalist policies and tax incentives for young families. He has also locked horns with international finance and their NGO pawns growing roots in Budapest, famously forcing George Soros’s Open Society Foundation out of the country in 2018. Orbán's policies have proven remarkably effective at dismantling much of the operational presence of globalist organisations in the country, a feat that has seen little replication by other nationalist leaders in Europe. Hungarian audacity has also shown Brussels to be a paper tiger through a successful track record of repelling migrant and refugee resettlements and its outright refusal to follow many EU dictates. In truth, Orbán is effective because both he and Hungary have been inoculated against much of the current egalitarian and globalist agitprop. Their survival through communist privation has equipped them with the necessary cultural antibodies. Having experienced life under foreign occupation and ideological oppression, this unapologetically nationalist generation of Hungarians is resolute in opposing the Brussels’ growing attempts to erode their country's national identity and enforce a utopian ideology. This fortifying process is not something that the liberal West has endured and, as a result, has a less robust civilizational immune system. As Tomislav Sunic’s aphorism goes, ‘Communism rots the body, but Liberalism rots the soul’, but oblivious to the wisdom of this adage, Western Europe, as the product of the liberal side of the Iron Curtain, is still prone to blindly following the pied piper of egalitarian dogma.
Unlike Orbán and other Eastern European leaders, the West does not fully comprehend the ability of regimes and ideologies to collapse, as they lack the lived experience of such an implosion. But political tyranny is ramping up in Europe, and such is the severity of current anti-national policies that it’s no longer an exaggeration to compare the levels of oppression to Communism. Moreover, with equal oppression will come equal selection pressures, and there is no reason to suppose that an Irish Orbán is not cutting his political teeth in the nationalist ecosystem as we speak. A seeming staple of populism, the emergence of a strong man as an antidote to the corruption in our liberal democracy is not only a possibility, but as the social fabric continues to come asunder and people lose faith in the system, it becomes a likelihood. Rumblings of this strongman archetype emerging have arrived in Ireland with McGregor’s flamboyant entrance into the presidential race vis-à-vis his Oval Office visit. McGregor may be a far cry from being the Irish Orbán —he lacks the political savvy for the deep waters of international diplomacy and is more of a heart-on-his-sleeve warrior type— but the very fact that an anti-migration celebrity fighter can dominate the Irish zeitgeist this way portends a shift in Irish politics. The business-as-usual, shored-up Fianna Fáil/Fine Gael duopoly has passed its zenith, while the emergence of Orbán and Hungary’s anti-liberalism offers a succulent ideological alternative. In sum, Ireland will need an anti-liberal figure of Orbán’s stature who is willing to put Irish interests above those of Brussels, London or Washington. The new breed of Irish nationalist politicians can learn from Hungary’s success, for without the need for heavy-handed repression, Orbán and Fidesz have fostered a system built on loyalty, collaboration, and strategic support to maintain stability. Those who aligned with his vision were offered opportunities such as jobs, directorships, and contracts, helping to build a network of shared interests. Additionally, Orbán effectively employed a blend of nationalist and anti-globalist rhetoric to unite a large support base. The crazies and cranks —unfortunately, not an uncommon faction within anglosphere populist movements— have been successfully gatekept, and Fidesz has managed to maintain a remarkably clean reputation considering the media’s interest in defaming them. With this political savvy, they have rightfully earned a reputation as a bulwark of traditional Christian civilisation in Europe.
Final Remarks on the Gaelic and Magyar Parallel
In sum, whether as a kingdom or republic, from Deák to Orbán, Hungary remains a model of success in resisting the forces of dissolution currently plaguing ancient European peoples, and has, from early modern through to modern times, remained a well of inspiration for Ireland. Griffith saw in the Magyar nation a fellow European nation that exuded all the virtues of Ireland while sharing the same tumultuous and tragic aspects of her history. Through the centuries, the myriad rhymes between both histories cannot be doubted, even if national narratives have diverged in recent times. The past for Hungarians remains a source of glory and power drawn upon to embolden its fight for sovereignty in the modern age, and though Irish nationalism has traditionally done the same, there is a lemntable strain in modern Ireland which increasingly facilitates historical hermeneutics of national victimhood and little else. As antidote, the Hungarian sentiment can prove useful for Irish nationalists in wrestling with its history, which, shorn of its complexity under the hegemony of an anti-national left, has allowed —uncharitably cast— slave morality to fester in some corners of the national psyche. In highlighting this trend, the intention is not to impugn any extra-European causes such as the Palestinian struggle, but it is merely to acknowledge a broader moral hazard of prioritising an Irish self-image linked to the global south over her European brethren. As a counter-measure, a rekindling of these European parallels and historical relationships will prove vital in reimagining the possibilities for the Irish nation. As Hungary shows us, Irish destiny can be as a small but significant global player that refuses to compromise on sovereignty. Thankfully, as the preceding paragraphs have hopefully illustrated, that though fulfilling this destiny will be an arduous task, it is likely to be aided by the natural recalcitrance that the Gaelic mind shares with the Magyar. Then as now, Hungary’s path acts upon us as an exhortation, and we might follow her once more —to invoke Griffith a final time— in a ‘glorious resurrection’.