I've often wondered what would happen were Hungary to slip off the face of the Earth from one day to the next. Would anyone care? Who'd mourn, who'd rejoice? What would the world stand to lose or gain from such an odd cataclysm?
In Brueghel's famous painting, The Fall of Icarus, Icarus has fallen from high above and only his feet are popping out of the sea. Yet no one on the shore notices. Blithely, fishermen continue to fish, the shepherd drives his flock, the farmer ploughs his land. Many would take note of Hungary's fall, but what would they think?
Poland might feel stunned for an instant, shedding a few tears in memory of the supposed ancient Polish-Hungarian friendship. Russia would build a huge gas storage facility in Austria and swiftly rename their new airline acquisition Malév. France? Their politicians, at a stretch, might feel a speck of dust roll off their chest, if only for the injustice of Trianon. Some intellectuals would no doubt talk about Fifty-Six for a while. Winemakers would label their wines "Tokay" again, and Sarkozy would no longer have to feel uncomfortable when questioned about his ancestors.

[...]

Yes, the examples are silly but I hoped to startle the reader into the realisation that today's Hungary should put itself on the world map. Opportunities abound, but it seems that rather than take advantage of the situation, citizens of this adolescent democracy quarrel, fret, dither and complain incessantly. That's not the path to success.

[...]

Elemér Hankiss
is Senior Fellow at the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, Institute of Political Science, and professor at the College of Europe, Bruges. His most recent publication in English is The Toothpaste of Immortality. Self-Construction in the Consumer Age, Baltimore- Washington DC: The Johns Hopkins University Press-Woodrow Wilson Center Press, 2006.

Norbert Izsák
is on the staff of the business weekly HVG.