“For the average person all problems date to World War II; for the more informed, to World War I.”

Budapest’s newest World War I exhibit dispenses pamphlets bearing these words, intended for visitors to take home as souvenirs. Indeed, the most striking part of “A New World Was Born” is the way it portrays the aftermath of World War I, particularly the Treaty of Trianon and Hungary’s interwar experience.

Located on the Buda side of the Danube River, two giant statues of Hungarian soldiers loom over the museum’s entrance. It is curated by the notorious Hungarian historian, Mária Schmidt, who also created the popular Terror Háza (“House of Terror”) Museum. Schmidt’s work is considered controversial because she is known to ignore the dark side of Hungary’s history by portraying the nation as a victim of foreign interference while denying Hungary’s role as a perpetrator.

The walls of the exhibit are painted black and decorated with quotes invoking tragedies of the war and the impact of division among European nations. The Treaty of Trianon features prominently in the narrative presented. The treaty, signed in 1920, effectively stripped the Kingdom of Hungary of approximately two thirds of its territory and left half its population living under new rulers in newly created states.

The walls read:

“A war between Europeans should be considered a civil war.” – Napoleon.

“No country has been destroyed more viciously than Hungary was at Trianon” – Francesco Nitti

“The worn and trodden trench-faces of the poor boys were pure accusation and deprecation against civilization and Christianity.” – Ferenc Herczeg

Each room features a display clearly intended to have an unnerving effect. The visitor first walks through a trench-like room, with a sweet and unusual scent, where soldiers’ shovels, photographs, and letters are mounted on dirt walls. An eerie lullaby plays through speakers. In one corner, a child’s doll wears a gas mask. Blood bubbles from the ground. Finally, one reaches a room filled with white tombstones bearing Hungarian names, while mirrors provide the illusion that the graves are infinite.

The purpose of this complex becomes blatantly obvious as the visitor advances through subsequent rooms: Hungary suffered at the hands of post-World War I Europe, and it still bleeds today––the nation still bears the scar of Trianon.

The chilling display on the first floor is later contrasted by a cheery exhibit about the golden years of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Throughout the tour, the a visitor is struck by the inescapable contrast between the powerful and “happy” Hungary before the Great War and the small, victimized, and innocent Hungary after it.

There is no doubt that World War I tore apart an old reality and gave rise to a new one—as all wars do—and there were, of course, winners and losers. The fact that trauma lingers cannot be denied. But the exhibit reeks of propaganda.

In 1918, Hungary experienced a three-day democratic revolution called the “Aster Revolution,” named after the flowers that became a symbol of a secessionist movement. Supposedly, soldiers would remove the Habsburg coat of arms from their caps, replacing it with the aster to demonstrate their loyalty to the movement. The revolution was superseded by the 1919 Bolshevik Revolution, which created the short-lived Hungarian Soviet Republic. At the exhibition, visitors can trample on asters that then melt into the floor below, effectively providing visitors an opportunity to trample a democratic revolution.

The whole exhibit, whether implicitly or explicitly, is designed to maximize shock value. One of the most striking rooms is centred around Admiral Miklós Horthy, the leader of interwar Hungary, who pursued irredentist policies in the aftermath of Trianon and later formed an alliance with Nazi Germany during World War II. Horthy is at best a controversial figure in Hungarian history, but this exhibit makes its stance on his legacy clear: that of a hero. Horthy sits atop his horse at the centre of the room, sitting up with perfect posture, proudly in his uniform.

Immediately next to Horthy is a room dedicated to Hungarian irredentism and the “trauma” of Trianon. The floor of the room is carpeted with the Carte Rouge, a famous ethnographic map of the Kingdom of Hungary created in 1918–19. On it, ethnic Hungarians are mapped in an aggressive bright red, while other ethnicities are indicated by softer, less noticeable colours, such as yellow and white, thus creating a visual demotion of those groups in what was once a proudly multiethnic country. Surrounding the visitor are quotes from historians and interwar statesmen on the “destruction” and “trauma” Trianon brought to Hungary.

Bence Rétvári, the current state secretary at the Ministry of Public Administration and Justice, referred to the exhibit as the “most important exhibition of the year.” Critical visitors, however, will find the themes to be problematic. The display casts Hungary only as a victim, and by extension, absolves it of any responsibility with respect to the events that followed 1918, including its controversial interwar politics and its government’s World War II alliance with Nazi Germany.

More to the point, the exhibit acts as a showpiece for the new national memory politics of Viktor Orbán’s government, which has chosen the domain of memory politics as one on which to pursue a sort of domestic war. Similar controversies have been seen in Liberty Square, with the Memorial to the Victims of the German Invasion. The memorial neglects to mention Hungary’s allegiance with Germany prior to the invasion, as well as the Hungarian government’s anti-Jewish legislation, which severely restricted the rights of Hungarian Jews. Another example is the overnight removal of the statue of the anti-Soviet figure, Imre Nagy, which stood adjacent to Parliament.

There is little doubt that the Hungarian government is making a blatant attempt to rewrite the past. “A New World was Born” is more than just an exhibit. It is a reflection of how the Orbán government wants its people to perceive the nation of Hungary relative to the rest of Europe: a victim. Such perceptions can—and do—have dangerous ramifications.

by Lisa Irimescu and Tess Megginson, CERES MA candidates

Many thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Tom and Irene Mihalik, who generously sponsored this trip for six CERES students to visit Hungary.