Peter Konsek had seen the impact of propaganda firsthand. It wasn’t just in the stories told or the narratives pushed—it was in the silences, the omissions, the lives erased in the pursuit of control. As he scrolled through reports about the state of Hungary’s media, social platforms, and the centralization of public services, the pattern became clear: information wasn’t just a tool; it was a weapon, wielded with precision to shape society’s perception of itself.
Media outlets weren’t just reporting the news—they were crafting realities. The consolidation of Hungary’s media under the control of pro-government interests had turned public discourse into a battleground of narratives. Independent voices were marginalized, their reach restricted by algorithms and political pressure. Social media, once a space for free expression, had become a minefield of misinformation and manipulation, with platforms amplifying outrage and burying nuance.
The case of József Szájer was a turning point in Peter’s understanding of this machinery. Szájer, a prominent Fidesz politician and one of the architects of Hungary’s constitution, had been caught in a scandal during the Brussels lockdown. Found fleeing a party that violated COVID restrictions, he became the subject of international headlines. The event was humiliating enough, but the details that emerged—connections to drugs, accusations of hypocrisy—turned it into a global spectacle.
Peter couldn’t shake the feeling that Szájer’s downfall wasn’t just a personal failing but a carefully orchestrated event. The involvement of foreign intelligence services, the sensationalist coverage—it all hinted at a deeper game. “Scandals like these,” Peter thought, “aren’t just about individuals. They’re about narratives. About control.”
This wasn’t the only story that lingered in Peter’s mind. The case of the Hungarian man found dead in Brussels, surrounded by drugs, was another chilling reminder of how lives could be reduced to footnotes in a larger story. The circumstances of his death were mysterious, but the media latched onto the drug angle, painting him as a cautionary tale of excess and failure. What wasn’t discussed was how such narratives reinforced existing prejudices, turning personal tragedies into tools for political and social manipulation.
These stories weren’t anomalies. They were part of a larger system that Peter had begun to uncover. Hungary’s centralized control over education and healthcare played a crucial role in this ecosystem. Schools and hospitals weren’t just institutions; they were tools of influence. Teachers and doctors, bound by strict regulations and political oversight, found themselves at the mercy of a system that prioritized loyalty over competence.
Psychiatry, in particular, had become a weapon. Peter had spoken to individuals who had been institutionalized for challenging the system, their diagnoses influenced by political agendas rather than medical realities. The state’s control over drug distribution further complicated matters, with certain medications used not for treatment but for compliance. These mechanisms created a culture of fear, where dissent could be silenced with the stroke of a pen or the prescription of a pill.
Social media played an outsized role in amplifying these dynamics. Platforms like Facebook and Twitter became the primary battlegrounds for Hungary’s political narratives, with state-controlled outlets dominating the conversation. Algorithms ensured that government-approved messages reached the widest audiences, while opposing voices were drowned out or flagged as disinformation.
The informal economy of content creation—bloggers, independent journalists, citizen activists—was vibrant but vulnerable. Without the resources or reach of established outlets, these voices struggled to compete. Many were targeted by smear campaigns, their credibility undermined by accusations of extremism or treason. Peter thought of a blogger he had met during his investigation, a young woman who had exposed corruption in her local council. Her articles had gone viral, but the backlash was swift: threats, harassment, even an investigation into her personal finances.
What struck Peter most was how this machinery consumed not just its enemies but its allies. Figures like József Szájer, who had once been pillars of the system, were just as vulnerable to its machinations. The witch hunts didn’t discriminate; they simply followed the path of least resistance. “The same system that builds you up,” Peter thought, “can just as easily tear you down.”
Behind the curtain of Hungary’s intricate mosaic of influence and control, certain figures operated with quiet, calculated precision. Among them was the Minister of Interior, a man whose power extended far beyond his official title. While others flaunted their wealth and connections, he moved in the shadows, orchestrating policies and decisions that shaped the nation’s trajectory.
What struck Peter most about figures like him wasn’t their strength or their connections but their intelligence. These individuals, often unassuming in appearance, were the architects of the system, weaving narratives and crafting strategies that others executed. In Hungary’s halls of power, it was often the clever—the ones who understood how to manipulate perceptions and quietly consolidate influence—who prevailed over the loud and the rooted. Their presence was a reminder that true control rarely came from the front lines. It came from those who understood the game and played it with precision, ensuring their fingerprints were never left on the final moves.
The consequences extended beyond politics. The relentless focus on scandals and divisions created an “input-hungry media,” as Peter called it, where sensationalism trumped substance. Great minds were buried under the weight of manufactured outrage, their contributions overshadowed by headlines designed to inflame rather than inform.
As Peter walked through Budapest that evening, the city’s lights casting long shadows on its streets, he thought about the cost of this system. Families torn apart by opposing narratives. Communities fractured by fear and suspicion. Individuals reduced to symbols, their humanity erased in the pursuit of control.
He thought of Hungary’s great intellectual tradition, the philosophers, scientists, and artists who had shaped its identity. What would they think of this mosaic, broken not by outside forces but by the hands of those who claimed to protect it?
The media wasn’t just a mirror; it was a hammer, shaping the mosaic to fit its own design. And as Peter looked at the cracks spreading through its surface, he wondered if there was any way to piece it back together.
Teaser for Next Episode: As Peter delves deeper into the forces shaping Hungary’s narratives, he uncovers the role of media moguls in crafting public perception. Behind every headline is a story, and behind every story is a motive. Next: The Sport Moguls and Their Masterpieces.
Thank you for your rewarding attention,
Dr. Attila Nuray
