Peter Konsek often found himself standing in the bustling squares of Budapest, watching the screens flicker with headlines and scrolling news banners. The city buzzed with life, but beneath its surface, Hungary’s soul seemed to split further each day. Media outlets, once vibrant and diverse, had become monotonous mouthpieces, shaping narratives that divided more than they informed. It wasn’t just propaganda; it was a weaponized distortion of truth, cutting deep into the fabric of society.
Peter’s latest investigation led him to a name that loomed large in Hungary’s media landscape: KESMA, the Central European Press and Media Foundation. At first glance, KESMA was a sprawling conglomerate of over 470 media outlets, from newspapers to online platforms. But its true purpose wasn’t to inform—it was to consolidate. Through this foundation, pro-government narratives were amplified to deafening levels, drowning out dissenting voices and suffocating independent journalism.
The roots of KESMA’s dominance traced back to a pivotal moment: the acquisition and closure of Népszabadság, Hungary’s largest independent newspaper. It wasn’t just a business deal; it was a warning. Within weeks, the paper’s investigative articles on corruption and nepotism vanished, replaced by a void that KESMA quickly filled. The message was clear: dissent would not be tolerated, and the media would serve a singular master.
Peter thought back to a story he had uncovered about a young journalist named Lili, who had once worked for Népszabadság. After its closure, she joined a small independent outlet, but the challenges were insurmountable. Advertisers, fearful of government backlash, pulled their funding. Algorithms buried their articles on social media, favoring KESMA’s clickbait headlines instead. Lili eventually left journalism altogether, disillusioned by a system that rewarded loyalty over truth.
Peter’s research revealed how KESMA and its affiliates wielded their influence during times of political shifts. The year 2024 had been particularly brutal. As Hungary approached the end of the year, political narratives reached a fever pitch. Social media became a battleground, where opposing sides clashed over stories projected by government-aligned outlets.
The most damaging aspect, Peter realized, wasn’t the misinformation—it was the polarization. Families were divided, friends estranged, communities fractured. The media didn’t just report on divisions; it created them. Stories were tailored to inflame emotions, framing one side as heroes and the other as villains. The result was a population that spoke past one another, locked in echo chambers that grew more impenetrable with every headline.
Peter’s investigation also uncovered the mechanisms behind this manipulation. State resources, funneled through entities like the National Bank of Hungary, played a crucial role. Advertising budgets were strategically allocated to pro-government outlets, ensuring their dominance over the information ecosystem. Independent media, by contrast, was starved of funding and forced to rely on crowdfunding or international grants—both of which were framed as “foreign interference” by KESMA’s narratives.
This financial dominance extended into digital platforms. Algorithms on Facebook and Google were weaponized, prioritizing KESMA’s content while burying dissenting voices. Peter discovered internal documents revealing partnerships between KESMA-affiliated outlets and social media consultants, who used data analytics to craft narratives that resonated most strongly with key demographics. These narratives weren’t just tailored—they were engineered to polarize.
One of the most telling examples was the coverage of a high-profile protest against education reforms. KESMA’s outlets portrayed the demonstrators as foreign-funded agitators, using selectively edited footage to frame the protests as chaotic and violent. Independent outlets, meanwhile, highlighted the peaceful nature of the protests and the legitimate grievances of teachers and students. The resulting media war left citizens more divided than ever, unsure of who to trust or what to believe.
Peter reflected on the broader implications of this mosaic. The media wasn’t just shaping narratives—it was shaping society. By controlling the flow of information, the puppet masters behind KESMA ensured that dissent was not just silenced but delegitimized. The population’s fears and frustrations were weaponized, turning neighbors into enemies and families into factions.
What struck Peter most was how effective this strategy was during times of uncertainty. In the political shifts of late 2024, the media’s role became even more pronounced. As the government faced mounting criticism for its economic policies and international isolation, KESMA’s outlets worked overtime to shift the blame. Stories of foreign meddling, cultural decay, and fabricated scandals filled the airwaves, redirecting public anger away from those in power.
But beneath the surface, cracks were beginning to show. Protests against state media propaganda were growing, with thousands gathering outside Hungary’s public media headquarters in October 2024. They demanded unbiased reporting, calling out the government’s use of taxpayer money to fund narratives that deepened divisions.
Peter attended one of these protests, standing among the crowd as they chanted for change. The atmosphere was electric, a mix of anger and hope. For the first time in years, Peter felt that the strings of the puppet masters might not be unbreakable after all.
The conclusion came to Peter as he walked home that night, the city’s lights casting faint reflections on the Danube. The media wasn’t just a mirror reflecting society—it was a hammer, shaping it into a form that served the interests of the powerful. The narratives it created weren’t accidental; they were deliberate, designed to maintain control by fostering fear and division.
But Peter also realized something else: hammers could break things, but they could also build. The same media that divided could be used to unite, if only the strings of control were severed. The mosaic of Hungary’s media landscape was broken, but it wasn’t beyond repair. And as Peter looked out over the city, he resolved to keep pulling at the threads, one story at a time.
Teaser for Next Episode: As Peter unravels the threads of media manipulation, he turns his attention to the final piece of the mosaic: the role of informal networks in sustaining the system. Next: The Informal Economy and the Price of Progress.
Thank you for your rewarding attention,
Dr. Attila Nuray
