Zsigmond Széchenyi of Sárvár-Felsővidék was born in Nagyvárad in 1898 into one of the best-known aristocratic families with a long history. Among his ancestors were prominent figures of Hungarian history, high priests, and greats of the country. His great-grandfather was Count Ferenc Széchényi, who founded the Hungarian National Museum and the nation's library, and his great-grandfather, Count Lajos, was the brother of István Széchenyi, an emblematic figure of the reform era and the national awakening. Zsigmond's grandfather, Dénes, was a prominent figure in public life in the post-Reunification era, and his father, Viktor, was the chief bailiff of Fehér County. On the female side of the family, we find deeply Catholic Austrian and Czech-Moravian noblewomen, Zsigmond’s mother was Karolina Ledebur-Wicheln. The young Zsigmond grew up in Sárpentele near Fehérvár and on the extensive family estates in Austria and the Czech Republic. He was educated at the Main Real School in Székesfehérvár, then in Pest, at the main grammar school named after Ferenc József, where he graduated in 1915. For the next two years, he served as a soldier of the Monarchy, and after the defeat in the war, he began to study law in 1919. But his interests focused on languages, travel, hunting, and wildlife.

So he left law to study zoology in Munich, Stuttgart, and soon Oxford and Cambridge.

On his return home, he farmed on the estate of Köröshegy in accordance with family tradition, but at the same time, he was a passionate hunter, traveling the country and the mountains of Transylvania, Tyrol, and Northern Italy. It was then that his first small articles appeared in hunting magazines.

Wanderer of savannahs and jungles

During one of his trips to England, he met Miss Stella Crowther, the daughter of a Yorkshire cotton manufacturer, whom he married in 1936. In the meantime, his hunting ambitions, supported by the income from the family estate, had drawn him to distant, exotic landscapes. For the first time, in 1927, he hunted in Africa with László Almásy, the adventurous hunter, explorer, and pilot, in the then British colony of Sudan, but in the following decade he made half a dozen more trips to East Africa, Kenya, Tanganyika, Uganda, Sudan, and Nubia.

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In time, the Széchenyi Villa in Buda became home to a significant trophy collection and a valuable hunting library.

During his travels, Széchenyi was not only interested in the then almost undisturbed African nature and wildlife. He also got to know the people there, their culture, their life, the beauty, and the misery of the region, which was still a colonial region.

In 1932, he wrote his first highly successful travelogue and hunting book, Csui, followed a few years later by African Campfires, which, in addition to exciting adventures, gives an insight into the world of old Africa. In 1935, he went to Alaska in America, where he hunted large bears. His book I hunted in Alaska is the story of this journey, but it is also an interesting account of the American way of life at the time. Although the great love of his life remained the black continent, he also visited India in 1937-1938. This counted as his honeymoon with his wife. He recounted their journey in his book Nahar, which again not only records the experiences of a tiger hunter, but also gives an insight into the subcontinent's artistic and cultural history, and into everyday life in the Anglo-Indies.

The Second World War was the turning point in his life. His British wife moved back to Great Britain with their son Peter at the start of the war, and they divorced in 1945. During the siege, the villa in Buda, with its unique collection of trophies, was destroyed, and miraculously only the library survived the war and the turbulent years that followed.

The world-traveling count deported into a henhouse

He was arrested by the Soviet military authorities in the days after the siege but was released after a few weeks. Then, with the confiscation of large estates leaving the family without financial support, Count Zsigmond took a job as a hunting supervisor and later worked as a specialist museologist at the Agricultural Museum. However,

in 1951, in the darkest days of the Rákosi era, he was also deported. He lived on a farm near Tiszapolgár in a chicken coop, then was assigned a forced residence with relatives in Balatongyörök, but in the following years he was subjected to constant police harassment.

 After a while, he got a job in the Helikon library in Keszthely, where his task was to compile a hunting bibliography.  In 1959 he remarried, married his colleague from Keszthely, a member of a noble family, Margit Hertelendy, who is still alive today, and was his companion for the rest of his life. Slowly, his fortunes have been straightened out. In 1955, his best-selling book, Chui, was republished, followed by the publication of his other works. It rated as his complete rehabilitation when in 1960 he was allowed to join the state expedition to East Africa. The material of the National Museum's natural history collection had to be replaced, which had been destroyed during the war and in the revolution of 1956. Four years later, he made one more trip to fast-changing Africa and recounted his experiences in his book Denatured Africa. He was pained but hopeful to see that the black continent was no longer the same; with all its contradictions, it was on the road to independence and modernization and the Count hoped that the price for it would not be the destruction of the wonderful flora and fauna he loved so much.

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 By then, his older and newer books were appearing unhindered: fourteen of his lifetime works have since sold nearly two million copies. He died in Budapest in 1967. His unparalleled hunting library of 4,000 volumes was transferred to the Natural History Museum, and his memory is preserved by a public statue, a street name, a commemorative plaque, and, above all, the memory of his readers. A biographical nature film about him was also made and released in 2019.

There is a popular anecdote that preserves the figure, character, sense of humor and even the irony of the Count, who had many adventures and hardships – while also reflects the human dignity of the majority of the oppressed Hungarian aristocracy. Following the successful return of the Hungarian expedition to Africa in 1960, state and party leaders welcomed those involved at a reception. János Kádár, himself a keen hunter, approached Széchenyi with a glass of wine in his hand, and in his familiar back-slapping style asked him the question: “Tell me, Széchenyi, how is it that you did not leave the country either in 1945 or after 1956?” The Count's reply was short but matching his character: 'You know, Zsiga would have gone, but Széchenyi wouldn't let him.'

-        A couple of minutes ago I talked to your father and he said you had been “moderately” interested in schoolwork and put photography first. Were you strolling about in the village?

– Yes. I observed animals, explored their habitats – in a village, I had great freedom to do so. But, as I see it now, if I had grown up somewhere else, I would have found a hobby there that could have become my job in the end. We had a camera at home – it was unusual back then -, but my parents never took wildlife photos.

My first intention was to take home things to remember: bones, feathers, cones. That’s how photography started for me: I wanted to share with others what I experienced in nature.

It all started as a hobby. Then I won prizes in several competitions and saw that people liked what I was doing and that inspired me. I started in 1999, I had been taking photos with an analogue camera for five years, and I was already a fanatic when digital came along. Analogue cameras taught me a lot, thinking forward for example, or planning. These became natural to me, and this still is how I work today.

– Did you have a mentor or an instructor?

– Not really. I’m self-educated mainly, learned from my own experiences and I watched my friends. I was 15 when I got admitted into the Association of Hungarian Nature Photographers, where I met a lot of people who had the same ideas, way of thinking, as me, but the average age was about 50. I made connections that shaped my attitude, but I found that everyone had a job besides photography. But by then I’d decided that I wanted photography to be my profession, the only thing was, I didn’t know how. 

I knew that in photography I found everything that made me happy: time spent outdoors and friendships. I thought, I’d just jump into this pool and find a way to swim ashore. There was no version ’B’. I decided at the age of 17 that this was to be my lifestyle.

– So it was only because of your parents’ expectations that you applied for a college that you haven’t even started?

– Yes. And because of the student card I got. It was really difficult, for my parents saw that I was not a loser, but it was not obvious how you could make a living from taking photos.

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Photo: László Emmer

– How do you decide what the next photo project will be?

– I just observe nature and figure it out. There are times when you have to reconstruct a scene that you’d observed earlier, other times you just have to go there and catch the moment.  There is this picture, for example, with an African Buffalo with the sunrise in the back. We were on a safari. I knew that there is this precious time slot when the Sun leaves the horizon. Here you only have a few minutes to find a scene. I planned everything in advance: the angle for taking the shot, the distance, everything that can be planned, but in the end the Oxpecker flying off the African Buffalo was a coincidence.

However, that picture with the ground squirrel eating a dandelion’s crop is a scene I reconstructed. I had seen earlier the ground squirrel beating the crops off the dandelion, and the wind blowing them away, so I started preparing for it. Next year I waited till the dandelions began blooming, and I mowed the lawn at the right moment. When I had already been working on the theme for a week I figured, I won’t be able to take a shot with the wind being so unpredictable. So I put up a tent above the dandelions, thus the wind didn’t bother me anymore. The ground squirrel was not disturbed by the tent. Then I put two ventilating fans on both sides of the flower. When I saw which side the ground squirrel was coming from I switched on the appropriate fan. So it took me three weeks of hard work like that to take a photo of something that is difficult just to observe.

I give several stimuli to wildlife, but if animals do not react to it, I’ll just leave it, I don’t force anything. It happens sometimes that I start observing something, but something much more interesting comes up, so I change the project.

– Could you talk a bit about the farm you live on?

– It’s about 7 km from Pusztaszer, and it’s my adult life playground. I was interested in this project: creating something that serves wildlife from bare agricultural land. We replaced sunflowers with indigenous grasses. Thus the area started to transform into its original natural state, amphibians and reptiles appeared, then their predators, birds, and mammals. In just a couple of years, the whole ecosystem’s transformed in front of my eyes – now that was wonderful! When I see a species I try to check on what kind of habitat it needs, for example, I needed a tree with a hole that is suitable for nesting – once I had that, birds didn’t come immediately, but after two-three years rollers started to nest there, and then hoopoes and sand-martins came, and now we even have an eagle-owl. Now I’ve just placed out bat boxes because there are a lot of bats here, but they do not have a suitable habitat. We resettled ground squirrels there with the help of the National Park. It is a very rare, strictly protected species, but the expert said that presumably, this area would be suitable for them. From 156 specimens we have reached 3000 by now, and this is the greatest ground squirrel population in the Dél-Alföld region. We feed them, they live close to humans, where there are fewer predators – of course, this is contributing to the success, too.

Wildlife can be helped, not just destroyed, and that is very exciting!

I don't have any pets, because I can't take responsibility for them if I go away for several months.

– How do you organize your journeys?

– At the beginning with my crew we visited hotels that offered us free accommodation and food and in return, we built hides on their lands. Obviously, it was a bit strange, a young man writing a letter like that from 8000 km, but there was a hotel in Costa Rica and one in Brazil that took us on. We built the hides ourselves with our hands, working with wood, metal, and concrete, although it happened once that when the timber arrived we realized that there was no matching pair among them, they were all of different sizes, and we had to build a hide from that. At those places, I always figured out how to create something original from a unique perspective – that was a challenge. Now they got to know me, thanks to several competitions and the media, so hotels are more willing to support such an initiative. You have to check on the country, of course, because we are full of stereotypes. For instance, I knew that there are poisonous snakes in Costa Rica, but then I saw in the statistics that only 6 people died of snakebite the previous year. I thought I was in greater danger here just crossing the street. And when I arrived I saw that kids were running barefoot up and down in the grass.

It’s interesting, however, that most people think that you have to travel to exotic places, like South Africa, to find a good topic for photography. Now, there are plenty of creatures here, in Hungary that are worth a shot. I think we must explore our own surroundings first.

– „You invite me, I’ll invite you!” – this call is still on your webpage. To what countries have you visited thanks to this appeal?

– I’ve been to Sri Lanka and Finland. And Tanzania, but that wasn’t a success. A guy came to us, we took him everywhere for two weeks, he was able to take good photos, but when our turn came, and we visited him, he took all our money, left us on the side of a road and left. We rebooked our flights and came home the next day. After this incident, I thought: I always assume the best of everyone, that’s just what I’m like. I remembered Csaba Böjte (a Franciscan monk and priest working with and helping orphan children) saying: “ you can love out the good from everyone”. Well, how would it have been possible to love out the good from this guy? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’ve been to 56 countries so far, have met and worked with all kinds of people, but this was my only negative experience. So I’d say it’s worth seeing the good in people.

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Photo: László Emmer

The Royal Belgian Princess Stefania was asked to be the patron of the Alliance. She was the widow of the suicidal Crown Prince Rudolf but was later excluded from the highest circles because of her second love marriage (she married a Hungarian count, Elemér Lónyay). At the Lónyay estate, the 'renitent' aristocrats, who for some reason were also not welcome at the Viennese court, were always welcome. She was very fond of Hungarians and Hungarian cuisine, she had her own versions of Hungarian foods that later were named after her: Stefania -meatloaf, -soufflé, - risotto, - cake. Her memory is preserved in Stefania Road in Pest. At the end of the Second World War, the elderly couple had to flee from the Soviets and was hidden in the Pannonhalma Archabbey, where Stefania died at the age of 81.

It has always been my intention and desire to create a work in the field of social structures that will serve the creation of a strong, healthy generation. An institution that strengthens the well-being of family life, that bears fruit in towns and villages. (Letter of Princess Stefania in 1940)

The Stefania Association founded the Central School of Women’s Aid Service Training in 1916. In November 1917, the Minister of the Interior, Gábor Ugron, ordered the development of the Women’s Aid service into a national network, moving from the cities to the villages. This work was supported by renowned medical professors of the time, including Dr. Vilmos Tauffer, obstetrician, Dr. János Bókay, and Dr. Pál Heim, professors of pediatrics, who are outstanding figures in the history of medicine. The so-called’Stepanian nurses’ were responsible for the care of pregnant and nursing mothers, newborn babies, infants, and young children in either a protective home or in their homes.

The branch offices of the National Stefania Association slowly spread throughout the whole country, and the activities of the Women’s Aid nurses became increasingly popular. "By 1929, with the tenacious and persistent work of the organization, we had 205 protective institutes, 32 milk kitchens, 7 mothers’ homes, 15 nurseries, 8 daycare centres and 6 maternity homes in the truncated country", wrote proudly in his memoirs Dr. József Szénásy, the doctor-teacher of the Women’s Aid nurses. By 1940, the growth was striking: 334 institutes for Women’s Aid, 150 milk kitchens, 14 mothers’ homes, 26 maternity homes, 31 nurseries, 30 daycare centres.

No other European country has developed such an effective national network of antenatal, infant, and early childhood care with a social and preventive health focus. The curricula for Women’s Aid nurses were also Hungarian in development, as there were few similar practices abroad in the 1910s and 1930s.

The antidote to superstition

An excellent summary of the history of the Women’s Aid nurses’ service is given by Dr. Márta Kahlichné Simon in her book "The History of the District Nurses’ Profession". The author is still teaching at Semmelweis University at the age of 82. According to her, one of the aims of the creation of the Women’s Aid nurses’ service was to combat health-destroying superstitions.

  "After giving birth, if babies had conjunctivitis, they would drip breast milk into their eyes because they thought it would heal it. Or, for example, they gave the baby poppy seed tincture if they wanted to soothe it. But apart from ignorance, the biggest problem was infant mortality: 220-230 out of 1000 newborns died. As a result of industrialization, many rural families moved to Budapest, living in squalid conditions, in crowded flats, where infectious diseases, diphtheria, and tuberculosis ravaged. In addition, husbands had gone off to serve in the army, and wives were left alone with the children, destitute. For them, a relief office was set up - for the first time in the capital - where they could get food and supplies. The trained Women’s Aid nurses of the National Stefania Association worked to save mothers and babies in a society where the attitude was that a peasant would take his livestock to the vet sooner than his feverish child to the doctor”

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Photo: Fortepan / Péter Karabélyos

The villages donated a lot of their own money to set up the local Stefania Branch welfare institutions: a milk and sugar distribution kitchen, a small nursing home, a maternity home, and they were proud of them, almost competing with each other. "You can't create effective mother and child protection with a rigid state administration, you need the heart of society!" - Dr. József Szénásy said. But this also required a lot of financial resources, and in the years after the First World War the Association found itself in a difficult financial situation. Help came from the American Red Cross and the Dutch Mission in 1920 and 1921.

New perspectives and challenges

But those in charge of public welfare policy were thinking on a different, larger scale, especially when there was a great financial opportunity for development: in the early 1930s, the Rockefeller Foundation made a huge donation of around half a million pengő to establish a state institute for training both nurses and Women’s Aid nurses. But this was on the condition that the training had to be adapted to the American model: instead of the Stefania Association's focus on maternal and infant health, it had to provide general health knowledge. From then on, in the 1930s, a kind of rivalry developed between the Stefania Association and the new Green Cross Health Service. The latter was run by the National Institute of Public Health, headed by Béla Johan, and also developed a national network, but expanded its scope. Between 1930 and 1944, Green Cross nurses were responsible for five areas: maternal and infant care, school health, combating venereal diseases and tuberculosis, organising home care for the poor, and social care.

This institutional dichotomy was finally resolved in 1941 - at the cost of no small amount of grievance and public division - when the institutions of the Stefania Association were essentially merged into the Green Cross Health Service, which continued to operate with a strengthened institutional network, thus the system of district nurses appeared. At that time, 1,044 district nurses were serving a population of approximately 7 million people.

dr. Marta Simon Kahlichné possesses the first textbook on nurse education, which states: "It's a very detailed and up-to-date material for the time, it talks about healthy baby expectancy, infant and child care, healthy and sick children, and there's a socio-political section. Often, the district nurse would tell the mother that she could apply for financial support or clothes, but the mother would say she could only sign her name, she couldn't write a claim - so the nurse would write it for her."

In World War II, many nurses died, institutions were destroyed and the system had to be almost completely rebuilt. From 1951, with the socialist reorganisation of the state, the nurses gradually became involved in the medical care of patients. Each district doctor was assigned a district nurse, who sometimes also performed assistant duties. They were responsible for promoting breastfeeding, raising awareness of the importance of compulsory vaccinations, monitoring young children placed in foster care, maintaining regular contact with hospitals, spending two hours a day in the district doctor's practice, and assisting in the care of patients. Between the 1960s and the 1970s, school health care developed significantly, with these nurses responsible for preparing and organising vaccinations and medical examinations, and also giving education lectures.

The development of medical science, as well as health and family policy measures demanded more and more knowledge from the district nurses, so in 1975 the training was raised to college level and its length was increased from two to three years; from 1993 the training period was increased to four years. Specialization is now also possible: regional and youth public health nurses have different roles.

These Hungarian public health nurses are highly qualified and have a broader range of tasks than similar health or social professionals in other countries, which is why the Hungarian Public Health Nurse Service, which was awarded the Hungarian Heritage Prize in 2013, is rightly called a Hungaricum.

– Let's start with the past! What should we know about previous generations of your family?

– One of my great-uncles was Simon Hollósy on my father’s side, Ervin Simon Hollósy. The other was Tivadar Csontváry Kosztka on my mother’s side, Ilona Erzsébet Kosztka. As famous painters, they were my relatives in their artistic way of life, too. The Kosztka family came to Hungary from Poland in the 17-18th century, and the Hollósys came from Transylvania. My father was born in the village of Petrova, from where the Hungarians were expelled after the First World War. My grandfather was a judge, imprisoned by the Romanians but later released to Eger, Hungary to join his relocated family. My mother was born in Recsk, where they had a prestigious orchard; they also received awards for their fruits. I found a large certificate about this, bigger than my paintings, as I paint, too. And I keep everything that reminds me of what the old Hungarian world was like. My grandfather, on my father's side, allegedly gave wonderful speeches and even wrote down the stories of his life on an old typewriter.

Everyone thought these writings were lost, but I found them in the parental house. I remember them because my father read these to me as a child.

I still have them; you can get insight from them about my grandfather’s adventurous life and the historical changes of the early 20th century. I also took a copy of it to my father's siblings in Hungary.

– When and where did your parents get married, and why were you born in Germany?

– They got married in Hungary during the Second World War. My brother, László, was born in 1944, but unfortunately, he died at the age of six months. I was born in 1946 in Germany, where my parents emigrated for political reasons. In Germany, my father became the leading producer and announcer of Radio Free Europe. Since my grandparents stayed at home, my grandfather always wrote to my father whenever he heard him on the radio. Of course, he sent his letters in coded language because they didn’t know who could see their correspondence. When the radio was looking for a child voice for a play, I was even given a role. My father spoke German well and later had perfect English pronunciation, but he couldn’t put the sentences together correctly in English. My mother put them together well, but her pronunciation was funny, so many times, I translated what they said. We stayed in Munich until we received a report in 1955 from the U.S. Consulate that they were going to close the borders for ten years, so if we wanted to emigrate, we needed to go that year. And we went. Then, in 1956, almost 300,000 Hungarians came after us; fortunately, they were accepted as well.

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Gyuri Hollósy - Amaryllis

– When you lived in Germany, why did America come into your plans?

– Because my mother's father was already living in Chicago at the time. From the Kosztka family, my great-grandfather was a hussar officer in the 1848 Hungarian revolution. When they lost, he settled in America. He became a citizen and began a new career as a jeweler, then fought there for four years in the Civil War on the side of the North. He hated to see brothers going against brothers and was also upset by the assassination of President Lincoln and the way black people were treated. He did not understand why a distinction was made between human and human, and finally, when amnesty was given by the Habsburg's, he returned home in 1868. My grandfather was born in Hungary, but he became an American citizen through his father, so he was accepted by America immediately after the Second World War. In Germany, we were still hoping that the political situation in Hungary would change, and we could return home, but it did not. Maybe we did better to go in 1955 because my father was the type of man who would have gone home even from Germany to fight in the revolution in 1956. But this way, we could stay together. Dad kept in touch with The Knightly Order of Vitéz in Hungary, but he strictly asked me not to think of going home with the name Hollósy because he feared for his only remaining child.

I was able to travel for the first time after 1989 and since then, I have been to Hungary three times.

– What was your life like in the United States?

– Dad started as a worker, then learned the engineering profession, even though he was a lawyer in Budapest. He planned elevators for buildings, then coal mines, and he stayed with the company even after retirement. In addition, he played music. He mainly played the violin, but he also loved the piano and was even an excellent singer, helping compile the Mindszenty Choir in Cleveland. When Cardinal József Mindszenty came there in person, Dad also sang to him. Mom loved to sew; she made a lot of embroideries. We still keep a lot of her work today; of course, we don’t put it on the table, we just admire them. She had a job in a shop, and they made inscriptions and embroideries on coats.

– What did the family say when you announced that you’d started an artistic career?

– When I had to choose a profession, Grandpa, Grandma, Mom and Dad talked to me. Grandpa suggested that I should be an engineer, and Dad told me to be a doctor or a lawyer, which ensured a good life. So which one do you want? he asked. I said neither; I want to be an artist! Mom alone said: “Since there were artists in the family, accept it, try to help him along this path if he feels he has the same in him.” Dad kept thinking for four days. He was basically a funny, good-natured man, but then he was gloomy for four days. On the fourth day, I said, okay, I give up, what profession should I choose? Then he sat down and said: "If you choose to do that, you're going to have a hard life, there's not a lot of opportunities unless you're very good. But if you believe in it, we believe in you." And with that, my future was decided when I was 14-15 years old.

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– What gave you such a strong inspiration for art?

– My parents sent me to a Piarist seminar with other Hungarian immigrant children in the Buffalo area two years earlier.

A new chapel had just been built there, and a priest heated iron, and then with the iron, he drew portraits of saints into wood pillars.

I was looking for a quiet place for myself, so I watched him in the chapel. That smoke, those saints, that sizzling sound and the furnace together… I was so impressed by them that I said: this is what I want to be! Now that I’m telling you about this, I realized something. I haven't drawn since that time, but I’ve been making facial drawings since the epidemic began. The inspiration for them can only come from the priest and the saints! Even today, when my life is hard, I think back to when I was 12, and I already know why I wanted to be an artist. This memory gives me the strength to continue on my way.

– Has it been such a difficult journey as your father predicted?

– Yes, mainly because it took me time to find my own artistic language. I not only wanted to be a painter or a sculptor but also to find my soul at work. For a long time, I didn’t feel like me, and my works were companions; I lacked connection. But when I made the statue of József Mindszenty in 1975 after his death, I heard my own voice. I realized that I like sculpture more than painting because my last line as a painter is the final word. But my sculptures have no closure; you can always see something new in them. It depends on where you look, going closer or moving away, from the same level or looking up at it. And I began to focus on these differences in perspective–play with shapes, with movement. My sculptures have no basis; if you turn them over, they still live, but they give out a different shape. There is no right, left, top or bottom. That’s why dance inspires me, that’s where my movable dance sculptures come from. I make three different figures and then connect them in each version to form even more shapes to express more emotion.

– These sculptures are part of your work. Another part is the Hungarian-themed sculptures.

– I mainly work on Hungarian topics related to 1956. The largest monument of the Hungarian Revolution was erected in Boston in 1989; although it was ready before, the delivery was delayed for technical reasons. Thus, the strange coincidence happened that in the summer of 1989, we handed over the statue in Boston symbolizing the Hungarians’ freedom, and a few months later, Hungary was truly liberated. I didn't just want to show armed people on it but the aspirations of the Hungarians. It depicts a warrior who has almost fallen to the ground, one arm missing, but the other holding the perforated flag and looking up at a woman. The woman is Hungary, and the child in her hands means hope. I patterned the faces of the lads appearing at the monument from my students' faces with whom I’d worked on the statue. I smuggled Mindszenty and even Napoleon's face in, but I didn't tell anyone. I was once my own model for a statue of King St. Stephen I of Hungary and Prince Arpad. (laughs) Later, I made another sculpture for the 50th anniversary of the revolution. The American Hungarians wanted to give it to Budapest, but they didn't find its style modern enough.

I didn’t feel it outdated, though the inspiration really came from a long time ago; it was inspired by the Hungarian poem: Angel from Heaven by Sandor Marai.

In the setting, an angel comes from heaven to the freedom fighter and helps him raise the torn flag. It is still a question of where and when it will be set up, if not in Hungary, then in America.

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– Your words are imbued with artistic enthusiasm. Are the others in your family artists, too?

– My 25-year-old daughter, Annalise Simone Hollosy, is also an artist. She mostly deals with animation in California. She was born at 19:13, which is exactly the year my father was born, 1913. That is why she got the name Simone after my father and Annalise after my grandmother. My wife is also a sculptor; she runs the visual arts program at Princeton University's Lewis Center for The Arts. I also used to teach at universities, but now I do my art in my studio, and I am the head chef at home. (laughs) I combine Hungarian and Transylvanian cuisine with Southern Creole and Cajun meals. Sometimes, also with Chinese influences because I am invited to China more often than to Hungary. Last time I went to Pécs for a joint exhibition of Hungarian and Philadelphia sculptors, the interpreter did not come, so I translated. They asked me: when did I leave the country to speak so beautifully? I say, never, I didn't even live here. But in Kecskemét, a lady also remarked that I still speak the old Hungarian, not the new one. My wife and I traveled all over the country in 1993, visiting relatives who were still alive at the time, with whom we also corresponded for a long time.

– Why is it so important for you to take care of your Hungarian heritage while spending your whole life in another part of the world?

– On the one hand, I owe a lot to my artist ancestors, and I am grateful for what I inherited from them. Let me give you an example. I work with both hands, although I was originally left-handed, only then did I learn right. I noticed that my right hand works in more detail, and my left hand is looser, more instinctive. And I once noticed the same difference between Simon Hollósy’s right- and left-handed works. So if, say, I eat soup with my right hand and then involuntarily turn left, something is definitely going through my mind! (laughs) And as for my Hungarian identity, it's not just old relatives who inspire me to take care of it.

I loved my parents so much, I have all the beautiful memories of them and Hungary.

I hope to get there one more time because I promised my daughter to take her, too. But as an artist, it’s hard to travel without an invitation. So being Hungarian is my life, as my father taught me Hungarian. Like my grandfather, he was a good speaker with perfect pronunciation. And since he was also into music, he taught me not only to hear the words but to think that they were musical sounds, and then I could memorize them more easily. Therefore, the Hungarian language is music to my ears!

Heroic marriage proposal   
At the end of the conversation, Gyuri told another touching story about his parents: 
"The Hollósy and Kosztka families have known each other for a long time. But when Dad, who also completed Ludovika University’s officer training, wanted to marry Mom, my grandfather didn’t allow it. After the war started, my mother's brother, Lieutenant László Kosztka, was killed near the Russian-occupied Kiev. The Hungarians tried to occupy the village where it took place with many attempts, without success. My father asked permission from the command to try it with his unit, and then successfully took control of the area. He found the fallen Hungarian soldiers and buried them in a cemetery next to a Russian church. He took detailed photographs of the military funeral and presented the images to my grandfather. Dad was honored with a Knight’s Order for his act, and my grandfather then gave permission to him to marry my Mom. I am extremely proud of this story!”

From an environmental point of view, what is the balance of the epidemic so far?
The most important thing is that this pandemic may be the final warning to change our ways so that civilization can survive. We are lucky that the mortality rate of this pandemic is relatively low, let’s say compared with the plague or ebola.

It is already evident that the increased frequency of new epidemics is closely associated with our destruction of nature.

By sharing 84% of the world’s ice-free land area with only a handful of other species, which we produce as cultivated plants or domesticated animals (mainly corn for pigs and grazing land for cows), indeed, we even shaped forestry to have only one species of tree, what’s more, those of the same age and form, humanity has ‘dumbed down’ nature. By doing this, humanity has also eliminated ecosystem services that could save us from similar pandemics. Why are there stink bug invasions, why has the incidence of Lyme disease spread by ticks tripled in Hungary over just two decades, and why is Nile fever spreading here, too? There are many types of micro-organisms in a healthy ecological system, for example, pathogens also keep the species in balance so that certain species and their diseases are unable to spread excessively. But we simply exterminate everything we find disgusting, that bites, causes damage, even leaf mould. Thus, huge ecological voids have been created, which are filled with the most easily adapted invasive species, floodplain plants with their own specific pathogens that are able to multiply virtually without check. Currently, humans account for around one-third of the total mass of land-based vertebrates, two-thirds are domesticated animals, and all the other, natural, diverse vertebrate species make up a mere one percent! If a pathogen is set loose among the barely dozen species accounting for the two-thirds, added to which we keep these packed in close proximity where they can easily infect each other, then the epidemic spreads very quickly and the pathogen has a million opportunities to mutate until it takes a form that is dangerous also for humans. They in effect form bridges between us and wildlife because these animals are in regular contact with humans. Just consider swine fever or bird flu! But this is not the only reason that we should protect species. If, for example, there are no pollinators that pollinate plants, then there is no food. And we often forget that not only is the cute bee a pollinator, but also the fly and the male mosquito, for example.

Besides the many negatives, the pandemic has had a few short-term benefits as well, for example, reduced airplane, cruise ship and car traffic.

“Naturally, masks and disinfectants represent a certain level of environmental pollution, but this is only the tip of the iceberg. As are the frequently mentioned drinking straws. I’ll tell you what the iceberg is, though: we have to wean ourselves off oil, coal and gas. But as long as these companies are doing very well, while airline companies are in profit, nobody would dare say that the company should be closed down and the employees should be sent somewhere else. Now, it is precisely those branches of industry that should be closed down that are actually in the biggest trouble. We shouldn’t put those branches of industry which should be eliminated anyway, or at least cut back, on the ventilator, for example, we should not maintain a labour force at empty airports unnecessarily, but we should direct them to the new, green sectors of the industry!

Currently up to 24% of GDP is earmarked for economic recovery, of which 2-3% per annum would be sufficient to resolve the climate crisis.

Digitalization, new energy production, renovations and services, domestic tourism should be developed. Rural tourism started up between the two waves, numerous companies could have got involved in this area. Local services, shorter supply chains, local producer alternatives. We have been able to see for ourselves that we can function in the digital space and an increasing number of enterprises can operate online.

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Diána Ürge-Vorsatz Photo: László Emmer

We frequently lose our sense of proportion because it is easier to give up the drinking straw than to see that in questions of greater volume, for example, in the debate on atomic energy versus fossil fuels, we don’t really have an impact on decisions but we don’t even have reliable information on which is the lesser evil.
The environment is a very complex thing. Atomic energy versus coal power is not purely a political or economic debate but also a scientific one, and it is not that simple because you have to compare apples with pears. The carbon emitted here going with a risk in the future or that ethical dilemma about enjoying the benefits now and we then force thousands of generations to take care of atomic waste. Which is more important can only be decided on the basis of a value judgement and not on the basis of numbers. But looking at the big picture, frequently it is easy to say. Those solutions are right which are to be found in harmony with nature. So far, super technology always only converted one problem into another. The goal is always prevention and not that we collect pollution in a diaper afterwards.

In the final analysis, it is always better when we use less. It is better when we use the car less frequently. Why do metal boxes own the city and not pedestrians and cyclists?

My child is begging me to use the bicycle, but this requires going through such dangerous crossings that I simply cannot allow it. Where there are safe infrastructures, for example, in Amsterdam or Copenhagen, many people travel by bike. During the pandemic, cycle traffic in our towns and cities doubled or tripled.

What sort of communication bridges do the researchers and scientists of your profession have at their disposal to reach decision-makers?
You have asked an extremely difficult question. One of the main consulting positions in the European Commission will now be vacated, which is why I was also interviewed and they asked me what I thought was the biggest challenge in the European Union now. I think that this is it.

These days, belief in science has been so shaken that it is barely taken into consideration when reaching important political decisions.

The majority of people source their information not through scientific channels but from fake news, partial truths and conspiracy theories spread by social media. It is very difficult to reach the right decisions in such an environment, even if a politician has the best of intentions. We reacted to the pandemic very quickly in the first wave, we brought decisions on lockdowns rapidly, and we came out of it very well. There were problems with the economy, but we overcame them in a few months and we didn’t lose many jobs in the long term. However, by the time the second wave arrived politicians didn’t dare to listen to scientists, not even in other countries, in France, Belgium and England, because voices asking ‘why should I wear a mask?’, ‘the economy is more important’ had intensified in volume. Acquaintances of mine, university graduates, posted fake news and wrote things such as that the pandemic was forced on us on purpose and that Putin intended to exterminate us all. We know that the economy suffers far more if we postpone measures, and I would note here that if we do not go into lockdown, but the people remain frightened and they don’t dare to go to the beautician or to the theatre, then the economy will not function well in this case either.

In recent times, albeit to varying degrees, everyone has had fears about the future. About the health and existential situation, about isolation. As a matter of fact, your profession is all about learning what possible negative scenarios there are for the future. Doesn’t this result in a state of constant fear and anxiety?
I have managed so far. I saw how bad the situation was and I see how my children become climate depressives when they understand what I am occupied with, but I also see that there is a way out. I saw that we can do it, there are good examples and small success stories. However, the second wave of this pandemic somewhat shook my beliefs. Because if we couldn’t understand something simple like, if we act too late we are cutting the branch from beneath us, what can we expect in longer-term crises? The majority of super American and European democracies failed, including us. Vietnam, China, Singapore, Japan, Taiwan, Thailand, Australia and New Zealand did not fail. Even though some Asian countries have very high population densities. Those societies could protect themselves from deaths running into the hundreds of thousands and the bankruptcy of the economy.

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Photo: Tamás Páczai

Perhaps not only because there are dictatorships in some, but also because in Asian countries it is easier for a community consciousness to override self-realization and the fleeting interests of the individual.
In that case, however, something is not right in our superdemocracies and super economies. This raises serious questions.

If we are not able to place social aspects in the foreground compared with short-sighted economic interests, then we have no chance of solving the climate and biodiversity crisis, which requires thinking on a much larger scale.

And we won’t be able to survive climate catastrophe by civilization; we have to make changes as one.

Conflicts between generations also seriously burden this endeavour. Today’s generation of 50-year-olds are frequently against minor changes, for example, ending plastic packaging. Perhaps there is a certain cognitive dissonance in this whole thing.
There was never such a huge generation gap as there is today. Our generation refuses to acknowledge that we are stealing the space for life from those generations to come. This is the situation even at the level of researchers and science. Nobody likes change, but a young person who does not have habits fixed for decades has no problems choosing a new career, work, lifestyle. However, those who have already established a lifestyle find it difficult to switch to another, they easily accept the counterarguments which prove that ‘the situation is not that bad.

There may be a sense of guilt behind this…
Yes, but we have the excuse that we didn’t know that we would cause such great damage.

We didn’t know that sitting in the car regularly was such a serious problem. And if we don’t have alternatives, then the knowledge is in vain. But we can achieve a situation where the conditions are created. For example, if there is the option under law to work from home, and there is no need for the daily commute, changes can be made, too.

It is good news that we have started to garden and we are getting out into nature more often. The pandemic brought everybody something that is good for their own lives and the environment as well. Let’s grab this now and keep it! Obviously, there is no way we can cancel personal relations and meetings, there is a great need for these. But, for example, we could easily introduce a state where students of upper primary schools and secondary schools only go into school three days a week instead of five, numerous conferences, parental meetings, appointments, consultations could be held online, saving a lot of time and harmful emissions.

Is there anything you regard as a personal success?
It is always a great joy for me when somebody comes to me at, for example, the strand on the river Tisza and says ‘Is it really you? I always unplug the TV since you said it was important.’ At such moments I feel that it was worth putting in so many nights and so much work in a society that took me away from my family.

Does your family also consider this to be an important matter?
I’ll tell you, my children take this so seriously that I receive a telling off from them if I falter. One of my daughters, who loved sausages and duck, is now so seriously vegan that she eats her little bit of tofu while the goose we are eating is on the table all fragrant and nice. She does not force veganism on us but still, I have qualms of conscience at these times.

Is there a need for such heroic examples?
Icons are important. Not everyone will follow, but they are inspiring. If the world did nothing else but followed a diet with, say, three meals a week featuring meat (such a varied diet is fully in line with recommendations on healthy living), then we could halve the emissions of the entire food production system - not just with animal husbandry, but with restaurants, deliveries, cooking, all together.

We try not to buy beef or pork and cold cuts. And we feel better as well, my husband also got to like this, indeed, he misses hummus and linseed if there isn’t any at home.

This is not asceticism, this is an opportunity in which we can feel very good. It is a little tricky to start off but then you get to like it and it is no good otherwise.

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Photo: Tamás Páczai

Generally, you plan in the long term. I suppose for you, one year is small scale. What goals do you have for 2021?
I have a ton of research goals, articles I want to write, and of course, it would be a dream come true if I got the EU’s post as senior scientific advisor. Forty-seven people were called for an interview and they shortlisted seven, including me. Five of the seven are women, including a Hungarian, so there is only a small probability that they will select me, but it is still a fantastic thing to be among the seven candidate scientists.

Are women more sensitive to this subject?
Certainly, they are more sensitive, but in science, women don’t make it to the executive grade because they reach those compromises that a family requires earlier. Because of this, I probably won’t get in either, because there’s no huge institution behind me, and although I’ve been tempted several times, I don’t even undertake such things today, I prefer to spend my afternoons with my kids. I am grateful to the media for all the possibilities I received because even without an influential position my words make it to many places.

How old are your children now?
The youngest is six, the twins are nine, the teenager is 13 and there are older ones.

You must have seen the climate protection roadside poster that announces: ‘The best thing you can give your child is not to have a sibling.’ Did your colleagues ever reproach you for having seven children?
Oh, yes they did! But what a selfish and silly approach this is!

Those who emphasize this consider their own consumption sacred, and not life. I have the right to consume ever more but they don’t have the right to live.

We don’t even notice the areas with a high density of population on the emissions curve, more than a half of the population of planet Earth accounts for less than 10% of toxic emissions. For example, there are 10 of us living in one house, the per capita heating is a fraction of that in households with one or two children. On the other hand, the wealthiest one per cent is responsible for more than half of total emissions! Population growth will stop on its own if everyone has a chance to carry out economic activity providing a livelihood, and childbirth will not be the only pension fund investment, the child will not be the cheapest labour force. But if even David Attenborough, for whom I have great respect and his new film is fantastic, keeps going on about overpopulation? Population times consumption gives indicators of the negative impact, and consumption rises much more than the population.

Perhaps it is more difficult to learn thinking in communal terms in a one-child family.
Precisely. That community in which things have to be shared educates the person to a cooperative future much better. I am an only child and I am far less able to make sacrifices and compromises than my husband who comes from a family of four children. For him, it is natural when somebody takes something from his plate, I don’t like it at all if somebody reaches for my food.

Then where did the courage come from to have seven children?
God had the courage, we just accepted it... I am very grateful to God that I received so many gifts, family is a source of great joy. Naturally, there were, and there still are, difficult situations when teenagers behave not like when they were lovely small children, and that can be painful, but one never regrets it.

In your spare time, you read thrillers, you enjoy drawing and you often stand over the stove in the kitchen. This year you graduated as a mental health specialist from Semmelweis University. Why did you feel this necessary when you already have an engineering degree and a Ph.D.?
“Initially it was just a hobby because I am interested in the psychology of events. Mental health training gives you a basic knowledge of how people work, how to accept and understand them. Among other things, it gave me an insight into how a healthy soul works, what its deviations can be, and what normative - that is, unavoidable - crises we encounter in the course of our lives. It would not be bad if, in the longer term, this knowledge could be made part of the curriculum in secondary schools. In fact, emotional intelligence is indispensable to making one’s way in life. I can also see this in relation to the teaching of university students: there are brilliant intellects who, despite being geniuses, are not paired by the kind of character insight and communication skills with which they can realize their ideas in practice and with the assistance of their colleagues, in which case their talent is easily wasted. In relation to the prize, I consider it very important to emphasize that this acknowledgment is the result of teamwork, there was a need for the cooperation of numerous experts in order to realize this R&D project.

“As an engineer, as a rational person, it is very easy to fall into the trap of only paying attention to the results, to the data. A project manager is expected to deliver a given result within the designated timeline and on budget. Meanwhile, at the heart of this activity is paying attention to people, because human relationships are a web that carries the real content. If I hurt my colleagues, then after a while this net rips, and the results fall through. As far as I am concerned, good working relations represent the greatest acknowledgment; good work carried out jointly is its own reward.”

Was it difficult to prove yourself as a young woman in the world of air transport?
“During my career I felt that I was not taken sufficiently seriously perhaps twice. These situations cannot be resolved in a couple of minutes, but decisive communication and taking the task seriously always help establish mutual respect.”

How have you managed to establish a healthy balance between career and family?
“This question arises in the life of a man as well, but maybe with them perhaps nobody is surprised if they choose work when there is a clash of priorities. In the short term, I reckon presence is most important. Wherever I am is where I try to be one hundred percent. When I'm with the children, I pay attention to them, consciously using the Rogersian mindfulness I learned at Semmelweis University. When I am working, I am fully engaged with that. In the long term, I believe that everything has its own time. For example, that is why I consciously had children before the period of building my career. Then I was working part-time for a long time and I only turned to my work more actively when my younger son started attending kindergarten.

“In fact, I saw the most amazing solution to this issue with an acquaintance of mine who lives in Luxemburg. In Western Europe, one can only stay at home with the baby for three or four months; the infant then has to be put into a creche. This couple I know had an idea that they would both take on part-time, 4-hour jobs so they could both stay with the baby, switching with each other, which is a truly creative solution allowing the parents to spend time with the child, meanwhile, both are able to keep up to speed with their respective professions.

“Staying at home with the child is, professionally speaking, definitely a sacrifice: the woman will have a 3-6-9-year gap in her CV, which we have to accept. I trust that more and more employers will realize the qualities that mothers acquire during these years. In terms of logistics, organizational, and efficiency matters – I am able to state categorically – bringing up one, two or three children can be comparable with the impact of the most renowned project management training.”

GPS (or satellite positioning system) has been used for nearly twenty years in ground transport. Why hasn't it been used more extensively in aviation until now?
“Because it is only in the past few years that the part-satellite EGNOS system covering Hungary, which can guarantee the reliability of GPS signals, has been built out. You should visualize it in this way: when driving in the car along the embankment in the city, it appears on the screen that we are actually driving in the Danube. This is caused by slight inaccuracies in the GPS signals. This is no big deal when one is on land because by looking around, it is obvious that we are not driving on the water. However, in aviation, the pilot cannot be assured about accuracy purely from sight. For a long time, we couldn’t count on aircraft sinking below an altitude of 200 feet on a GPS basis. This means that a light aircraft pilot is navigated towards the ground by this GPS-based solution until approximately 60 meters above ground level, from where he or she has to be able to see the runway and thus effect the landing. Satellite landing systems allow aircraft to arrive at the runway not necessarily along a fixed, defined straight path but, with the help of GPS, they can do it on a pathway that is curved or otherwise, which is extremely useful in the case of an approach with difficult terrain. In practice, we now have the best satellite navigation systems. These results are the outcome of more than three years’ work by over 20 people. These procedures will be first used at airports of Békéscsaba, Debrecen, Győr-Pér, Kecskemét, Nyíregyháza, Pápa, Pécs, Sármellék, Szolnok and Szeged.”

Today, the culture of artistic presentation and self-management is quite different from 30-40 years ago, although outstanding talent has long received special attention. How did you experience being a ‘wunderkind’?
“I believe that in the strict sense of the word, I was not a prodigy. I only started studying piano at the age of eight. It soon transpired that I had some talent for music but I attended normal schools all the way, but it is true that I did this faster by a few years than is usual, and I graduated at the age of 21. I started giving concerts in my 18th year when I won the international Schumann piano competition in Zwickau, just when I was admitted to the second class at the Academy of Music. That was a difficult academic year because I completed the first two classes of the academy in parallel, I attended the 4th class at grammar school as a private student, and I also took my school-leaving exams alongside ever more concert invitations.”

What family support did you get? Did anyone else play music in the family?
“My parents and grandparents were not musicians although both my grandfathers played the violin as amateurs. In the broader family, my father’s niece, Lili Ránki, was a piano teacher. However, everybody loved music, my father was a passionate collector of records and the radio was always switched on, which at that time played much more classical music. That's what I grew up in, and for example, at my grandmother's house in Csillaghegy - where I spent my summers - as a small child, passers-by would look on in amazement when I would stand at the gate and sing opera songs I had heard on the radio at the top of my lungs.”

The public perception is that artists who excel in the same genre are constantly competing against each other. How bothered, or encouraged, were you that you had several similarly highly talented contemporaries?
“The Liszt Academy was a very good place to be then. The lobby was always bustling with students and teachers, sitting at the cloakroom counter or at the cafeteria, talking and being lost in a debate. Unfortunately, in today's Academy of Music, perhaps for security reasons, but we search in vain for this atmosphere, it is irretrievably lost...

“We sat in concert every night and - I can honestly say - we were unenvious of each other's success when something went really well. When I heard that, it just made me want to work harder, to practice even more.”

Am I right in suspecting that it is as though the approach to music has changed since those days?
“The fundamental difference compared with today is that there was no computer or Internet, barely any TV, that is why music, musicians and concert life were held in higher esteem. Without any idealization and saying ‘those were the good old days’: yes, I felt the approach to music was more honest and more enthusiastic.”

How do you think the audience, the career pathway, the way of thinking for a young, beginner classical musician has changed?
“There is no doubt that the current situation is the outcome of a long process, but the ‘show yourself’ phenomenon has risen to a level that for me is nearly unbearable. It is only natural that everyone wants to stand out but frequently they want to achieve this with individualization. Music is the first to suffer from this approach. Spectacle dominates in today’s world and unfortunately, music is subordinate to this. Often, more attention is paid to external appearances than to professional skills. The young talents of today have an incomparably harder job because they have to produce artistically good work that meets the changing demands. The importance of management-self-management has become too great and, unfortunately, audiences can be fooled.

“The recipe: be confident, upbeat, direct and in tune, and you've got a winning case. But where's the music? With respect to the exception, of course.”

I suppose you, as parents, personally experienced all these difficulties with your son, Fülöp Ránki, who is also a pianist.
“Fülöp was never this type, he is passionately interested in music, making an impact for its own sake is as far from his personality as possible. He is completely remote from the influence of modern trends, they do not even touch him. He loves immersing himself in work and all additional ‘management’ activity is merely a burden for him. Luckily, he has a few very talented friends who think similarly, and are as demanding as he is, which is why I believe there is still hope in this modern shop-window world.”

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Fülöp Ránki

You taught for several years. How did your educational and performance careers influence each other?
“In the ten years after graduating I taught at the Liszt Academy alongside Pál Kadosa, but I slowly came to the realization that with the busy travel and concerts there was simply not enough time and energy for this, so I slowly started backing out. When I was teaching, I was embarrassed not to prepare for the concerts, when I was practising or travelling, I felt guilty for the students. Nor is it any good for them if their teacher only gets to teach them every now and then. By the way, teaching did have an excellent effect on my own piano playing because the things I discovered during our joint work had to be presented, formulated and explained intensively and clearly. However, I gave up teaching fairly soon because of the reasons I have mentioned.”

You were invited abroad as a guest teacher several times. Why didn’t you ever accept these invitations?
“On the one hand, I never longed to live abroad and I am averse even to the periodic absences that go with such a position. Performing in concert occasionally involves long trips, for example, I was in Japan 15 times, mainly on 2-3-4-week tours, but this is really travelling and not sitting in one place. Anyway, at these times I quickly start counting the days left before I will be back home. On the other hand, I don’t feel I have either the commitment or the ability to do it really well.

“And I don't do ac-hoc courses because they are mostly public, and I think the teacher-student relationship is similar to the doctor-patient relationship: confidential and nobody else's business.”

Yes, this is once again an important core principle that goes against today’s ‘trends’. On the other hand, for decades you have been playing regularly with your wife, pianist Edit Klukon, and in recent years with your younger son, Fülöp. When family members play together, it involves the courageous commitment that something is revealed from these closest, most personal relationships. Am I right?
“The fact that we are each other’s partner not only in life but in music as well is one of the marvellous gifts of life. Of course, the two are interconnected, it wasn’t by accident that we met. We have been playing together regularly from the mid-1980s and we have given over 500 joint concerts. Generally, when we perform with Fülöp we not only do three-piano pieces, of which, unfortunately, there are only a few, but we have a programme in which Fülöp plays solo and we play a four-hand or two-piano.”

If Fülöp has a solo performance, who is more nervous of the two?
“I often notice that I almost prepare in my soul for Fülöp’s concerts as if I had to play and it is a great relief when I realize this is not the case. Fülöp has no reason to be worried, he prepares for concerts in an extremely thorough manner, the only thing I am keeping my fingers crossed for is that he has a good time. Whether he is worried or not I don’t know, but one doesn’t have to bother with this anyway. The music is important and he also knows that.”

Your older son, Soma, is an architect, but I assume that he, too, in all likelihood had the talent to have a career in music. Did he also play an instrument when he was a child? How does Soma connect to your music life?
“During his childhood, Soma learnt piano for a few years but then he totally turned his back on this lifestyle and gave up the instrument. We wanted him to study music because this cannot be replaced by anything else, it gives an extra something to everybody but of course, it would have been silly to force him, it didn’t even cross our minds to make a musician out of him against his wishes. Everybody has their own path; even as a child, he was always drawing cathedrals and other buildings. He hasn’t played the instrument for a long time but music is important for him, he has a good ear, good taste and he is extremely critical.”

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How have you managed during the standstill caused by the pandemic?
“The spring halt caused catastrophe and existential crisis for many musicians and performers. Concerts were cancelled and it was not permitted to travel. For us, too, everything was basically cancelled, including tours of Spain and Japan; this latter may be substituted next spring if the situation allows. Irrespective of this, I myself had a great time at home in tranquillity, dealing with all those things that otherwise there is little time and energy for. I spent a lot of time in the garden, luckily I have enjoyed gardening since childhood, I never get fed up with it. We have a huge library, a vast number of books have been accumulated over 40 years so there is plenty to read. Besides this, time went with the family, with leisurely meals, drinking coffee, and it was possible to play the piano when I wanted, free from urgency and deadlines. The current, perhaps even more serious situation was less unexpected for us and we are confident that we will get through this in the foreseeable future.”

Could you mention some of your recent reading material?
“I’m hugely interested in Alan Walker’s book on the life of Chopin, which is exactly as well-researched, affectionate and still highly readable as his three-volume Liszt monography. Our friend Dénes Gulyás recently lent us his copy of Mario Vargas Llosa’s ‘Society of the Spectacle’, which we missed when it was published and I have been searching for recently in vain. The author points out the awkward processes of the modern world with very keen insight.”

Do you consider that there have been any positive consequences of this enforced closure?
“I'm not at all inclined to think of mystical connections, but such is the level of so-called "spin", pleasure-seeking, and the incredible amount of travel in the world that the beneficial side-effect of this serious, tragic epidemic for many, may be that people start to live calmer, more cautious, more restrained lives.

“It's OK to be quiet, because it gives us a chance to reflect. Don't be afraid of boredom, and don't rush around all the time, in general, spare the world around you."

“Before it’s too late. Of course, the uncertainties of existence, which affect many people these days, must pass.”

You have been an Artist of the Nation since 5 November 2020. What does this award mean to you?
“Since I have always lived at home, in Hungary, and not because there weren’t opportunities to leave, but because this is my home, I was especially delighted to receive this award. At such times I always have a strange feeling, I feel this as being almost as if it were not part of me. Besides the fact that this is not the goal, still, it is a huge joy if the decision-making bodies esteem and reward the work of decades.”

Beyond the official recognition, what were those events, feedback that you remember as success and ‘honours’?
“For me, the greatest reward is that after a concert, even if I am not satisfied, and basically I am never satisfied, I suspect from feedback that those who are close to me felt something of what I tried to play in the works.”

The interview was recorded in December 2020.

It is a real experience to talk with Father Fülöp. He is so straightforward, free of all kinds of trappings. He is equally sincere in revealing his somewhat clouded childhood and the slow realization of his true vocation.

“I was born in Brussels after the Second World War. My mother was English. During the war my father served as a pilot in the Royal Air Force. My parents divorced after my birth, I was placed in an institution just outside Brussels, where Benedictine nuns brought up poor children. There were a few children of Hungarian origin there, for example, my first friend, Béla Váczi. The nuns were very strict. Every morning we had to attend mass in complete silence; I didn’t understand a word because it was recited in Latin, but I prayed with all my heart. Each Saturday we watched films on African and South American missions during religious education. I, too, wanted to go there as a missionary.

“I contracted pneumonia when I was 12. I remember it was deep winter, icy cold, the doctor called the ambulance but they could not come so the fire brigade came out instead. They thought that I would die.

“I was taken to a clinic in Switzerland where I was ill for a year and only slowly recovered. After one year I was sent back to Brussels and after finishing primary school I wanted to continue my studies at the Don Bosco school but my parents did not allow me to do that because of their profession, since only poor children attended that school. Later on, I met my father in person only once. I was praying to get to know him and that he would be converted. Then once in Brussels my father’s friend visited me with the message that my father was critically ill and he wanted to meet me before he passed away. I went to see him, he begged my forgiveness, and he died a convert.
“At college I studied to be a male nurse and I worked in a hospital named after St. Elizabeth of the House of Árpád. In Brussels, there was a monastery of the Servite Order close to where I lived and this where I met Brother Peregrin, the cook. He was an ideal for me because he helped the beggars who came to eat at the monastery. Once, I asked his advice about what God wanted of me.

“He replied: ‘God called you in your childhood and now he is calling you to enter the Servite Order’.

“I left the hospital and joined the Servites. I spent two years with my superior in Canada and then I studied theology in Rome. There, one of my most beautiful memories was when I met Pope John Paul II by accident in the street. He was praying in the synagogue where, in the huge crowd, I only saw him on the projection screen. Afterwards, his car stopped beside me at the crossroads. He looked at me and smiled.
After theology studies, I went back to the monastery in Brussels as a monk but I continued to work in the hospital. I thought I could be more simple this way than as a priest. The hospital director asked me to work in the psychiatry ward and in the meantime I studied psychology. I adored this work. The other nurses had families, they hurried back home after work, but I was alone so I was able to help the patients. I spent much time talking to young people who were troubled about what they would do with their lives after completing school. This is when I learnt that one has to stay calm in all situations and the most important thing for the other person is to be understanding of him or her. These experiences help me in the confessional box as well.
“At that time I felt that I would always remain a male nurse because I was not worthy to be a priest. However, one day the provincial superior asked me whether I would like to be a priest. Since this was my wish from childhood, I accepted and I was ordained.

“Before ordination, the father general asked me whether I would go to Hungary with two of my other brothers. I was delighted to agree to this, thus another of my childhood wishes was fulfilled, to be a missionary.”

Father Fülöp arrived in Eger 28 years ago. He was extraordinary, it was simply impossible not to love him. He struggled with the Hungarian language for a long time but everybody understood him as he waved his hands about, used sign language and a good deal of humour. He found a place in everyone’s heart. He lived amongst us as somebody always at our disposal, whether it was for a chat, a campfire, an excursion or football. He spoke more of God with his presence and modesty than with his words.

“When I arrived in Eger, I immediately found my place. Father Gyula Balog was at that time the parish priest of the Servite church, an open person we worked together with in ministering to the young. Since I couldn’t speak the language, young people taught me to speak. It felt really great when one Friday I held my first mass in Hungarian, sweating buckets, and at the end the young people came into the sacristy, clapped and told me that they didn’t understand much but what I said came from the heart.”

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In the meantime, his provincial superior called Father Fülöp back to Brussels to help the life of the community there with his work. But his heart drew him back to Hungary.

“For me, the return was nostalgia, I requested it. They offered me the choice: Rome or Eger. I chose the latter. By the time I first came to Hungary, communism was dead and a new soul lived in the people. Everybody was delighted, I felt happy here amongst the young people, that is why I always longed to return.”

Last year, Father Fülöp celebrated his 70th birthday but he remains just as active as 28 years ago. He cannot rest, he so loves being among people. He undertakes everything that connects him to children and youth. He resolutely rides his bike between destinations, and if he is on foot, he walks with his dog.

“At the moment I am a chaplain in the church of the St. John Paul II Mission Centre, where I always recall my meeting with the Holy Father on the street. When I read about the life of Don Bosco, I longed to give to children in the same way he did. In the institution where I spent my childhood, the nuns treated us very strictly and the priests could not play with us either before the Second Vatican Council. This changed later since Pope John XXIII brought a new mentality into the church, so now I can play with the children as I wished to at that time. This wish was also met because the Don Bosco sisters invited me to help in the Oratorium, where they deal with children every Saturday afternoon in the summer. Beside this, I celebrate mass at the Ursulines hall of residence every week and I help young people find God who is so close to us. We have our common contemplations and celebrations. I am not only present in their life as a priest but if needed, I take them presents in a sack as Santa Claus. In summer we have a camp with the Gypsy children from Kerecsend, which is also a great experience.

“The true priest is a shepherd – I don’t have my own children but everybody is my child. During the quarantine and online teaching, I am here as the father without children. But I am always here if there is need for help or a chat.

“At one time I learnt from the catechism that the symbol of Christians is the cross, but I always added to myself: and love. I try to do with love what Jesus has asked of me, that we should be his witnesses everywhere. I can never forget the example of Brother Peregrin, who was like a father to me. I didn’t have a home and I know what children in a similar position really miss. I like helping young people and they are happy to talk with me. Jesus teaches us simply to preach the word. When I was ordained my friends told me to remain modest: they said, ‘this is how we love you’. Once, when I was cycling to mass, somebody asked me why I didn’t use the car. If others can walk, I will not drive by car because I am not a lord.
“My dog, Lady, is an Akita, a Japanese sheepdog, who was gifted to me eight years ago. She is a cheerful animal, we spend a lot of time walking together. Sometimes we both climb Eged Hill. I read that on 8 September, on the birthday of the Virgin Mary, one has to pray turning towards the sun. This is when we walk up to Eged at sunrise and pray together.
“When I had pneumonia and was ill for a year, the doctors told me that I should always play sports, go scouting, camping, and then there would be no problem. This is how I live and I feel good. I am blessed in that my soul remains youthful.”

On 27 December, the second son was born to the Brenner family, who welcomed the infant János as a Christmas gift in the Year of Our Lord 1931, in Szombathely. Both parents were well aware of what the arrival and raising of a child involved since the mother, Julianna, was the sixth child of a family of twelve children, and his father, József, was born the tenth child of his parents. János Brenner had a younger brother as well and all three boys were ordained priests. Snapshot of the Brenner family in 1956: the two parents and three grown boys in formal black – not only do the priest’s collars of the boys shine white from the neckline of the cassock, but also the smile of their mother, Julianna Wranovich. But what mother wouldn’t be delighted knowing that she had brought up three boys, each of whom dedicated his life to the service of God?

The photograph captures perhaps the last happy moment – but it is also possible that the shadow of the cross was already cast in the light of the life consecrated to God. The next image from the family archive is a surplice soaked in blood – the white linen absorbed the blood pouring from stab wounds as if it had been dyed using the batik technique.

On the night of 14 December 1957, János Brenner was lured from the Rábakethely rectory to see a ‘dying’ person. He left alone, walking along the unpaved way called ‘mass road’ towards Zsida. He had no idea that a group was lying in wait for him, while others kept watch from their hiding place in order to cut off his escape route if necessary. He was stopped on the pretext of a check and when he unbuttoned his winter coat to take out his documents, he was attacked by several people.

The athletic chaplain who was in good physical condition put up stubborn resistance but his attackers held him down and he was stabbed to death.

One of the attackers levelled a huge blow to the skull of Father János, which in all likelihood rendered him unconscious. They continued to hit and stab him even when he had fallen to the ground, and by the time the residents of the nearby farm, awakened by the clamour of dogs barking, arrived at the scene the murderers had already accomplished their evil deed. Their tracks were obscured in the mud.

“Aunt Málcsi, the morning is so beautiful! I could embrace the world!” This is how János Brenner greeted the woman making his breakfast on the morning of this fatal day. And what was his sin in the eyes of the communist authorities? The purity of his soul, his radiant personality, with which he attracted numerous people to the church.

“My brother died before Christmas. Before he died, he sent a Christmas tree and a letter to our parents, in which he said that if the tree was not to their liking, then he would send another one. The Christmas tree arrived and the news that János had died followed a couple of days later. Ever since then, our parents have never put up a Christmas tree. We only ever had a Nativity scene at Christmas,” said József Brenner, great provost of Vasvár-Szombathely chaplaincy, speaking to Magyar Kurír at the time of the beatification.

János Brenner, martyr of the Catholic Church beatified in 2018, is perhaps the best known of the Christian martyrs of the communist regime in Hungary, but there are many more besides him.

Another happy family picture from 1954: a couple and three pigtailed and ribboned girls stand smiling in the garden of the Levél rectory. The youngest blonde girl bends over with affectionate love, cradling her doll in her arms. Although the picture is a little faded, time has not diminished the vivacity of the cheerful smiles playing on the faces, nor the relaxed movements; the harmony, the intimacy radiate from this posed picture across the decades and right into the present. The father of the three little girls, Reformed Minister Lajos Gulyás, became the only clerical victim of the retaliatory machinery of the Kádár regime to be sentenced to death and executed by final judicial order. Just as János Brenner was warned by his bishop of the likelihood of violence on the part of the authorities, so Lajos Gulyás was similarly warned by Lajos Máté, state security lieutenant, border guard officer, whose life had been saved by Lajos Gulyás from an enraged crowd after the Mosonmagyaróvár massacre. However, despite these warnings both János Brenner and Lajos Gulyás stayed at their post and continued to serve their communities.

After the formation of the Revolutionary Workers’-Peasants’ Government of Hungary led by János Kádár, Gulyás also came into the cross-hairs of the reorganizing repressive bodies. In December 1956, a house search was conducted at the Levél rectory, and then in early 1957 a highly slanderous article was published in Kisalföld, after which his wife and several colleagues made strenuous efforts to persuade him to leave the country.

He helped many escape, but he stayed although a horse-drawn carriage was waiting for him in front of the rectory. “A Hungarian does not leave his homeland! I’ll go to the gallows with pressed trousers!” he said to his wife.

He was arrested on 5 February 1957, exactly when he was celebrating his 39th birthday with his family. He was not sentenced in a church trial: during the procedure conducted against Gábor Földes and his fellows, he was assigned the role of ‘church reactionary pastor’. Lajos Gulyás was executed on 31 December 1957, two weeks after the murder of János Brenner, in the courtyard of Győr County Prison.

The death of Lajos Gulyás carried the following message: if somebody who saves the life of a border guard in the midst of an angry crowd can be executed, then anybody can become a victim of reprisals. The 1957-58 period served – in the words of Kádár, “with fire and sword, machine gun fire and prison” – to make absolutely clear for everybody that the state would ruthlessly take action against everybody considered an enemy of the regime.

As one interrogation officer put it bluntly to one of his victims: “Look, our job is now to stand the young people’s democracy on its feet, and everybody knows full well, as you do, too, that you priests are the greatest enemies of this democracy. The fact is, you should be exterminated!”

It is not ruled out that they knew the biblical passage: ‘Strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.’

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Gyula Csaba, minister of Péteri, one of the martyrs of the Lutheran church, was not killed after 1956 but instead in the chaotic situation prevailing immediately after the war, in 1945. He was dragged from his bed and taken away in the early hours of 1 May. Some witnesses say that his eyes were put out, his tongue was torn out and his corpse was defiled. The words of Pope Pius XI were proven correct, who wrote in his encyclical on the dangers of atheistic and materialistic thought: ‘If people consciously steal the idea of God, their passions will explode unbridled in the darkest barbarities.’

We also have to mention Bishop Zoltán Meszlényi, who died a martyr on 11 January 1951 as a consequence of torture in the Kistarcsa internment camp. He was buried in an unmarked grave and his relatives were only officially informed of his death years later.

Thus, the process that reached its fulfilment in the 1950s, and then received new impetus in the reprisals after the 1956 Uprising, actually started as early as 1945.

Amongst the church victims of communism there were some who had to dig their own graves, some were executed by being shot in the back of the head, others were beaten to death, some were buried in trenches, others were thrown into former gravel pits used for bathing. For example, Pál Szekuli, chaplain of Öskü, died in suspicious circumstances; his body was found in the well of the vicarage on 7 December 1957. Károly Lajos Kenyeres was attacked by six or seven people in the early evening of 28 February 1957, when he was cycling home to Tiszavárkony after a religious instruction class. He was brought to the ground with a stretched wire, beaten, but they could not kill him so he was dragged to the Tisza and shot. His bicycle was thrown in the water, his body was hidden in the bank of the river that at that time was at a very low level and then earth was piled over him. When the family started searching for him the police put it about that he had fled abroad. Béla Pap, Reformed Minister of Karcag, disappeared in the Bakony in mysterious circumstances in August 1957.

And how long did the reprisals last? Piarist monk Ödön Lénárd was the last church prisoner to be freed following the personal intercession of Pope Paul VI in 1977. ‘Seminarist, high priest, parish priest, all soutaned swindlers, but there are still lampposts, but there are still lampposts’ – this satirical epigram scrawled on a street poster was read by Tamás Fabiny as he hurried to the ordination of a priest, in 1982. 

The hatred stirred up against the church, the priesthood and religion proved to be a long-lasting poison.

Even though in the days of the revolution the churches did not play a leading role, it does not by any means mean that they didn’t have an important part to play. Besides the fact that the words of Cardinal Mindszenty, the Reformed Bishop László Ravasz and Lutheran Bishop Lajos Ordass pertaining to the revolution come to mind first and foremost in terms of the churches’ position, it is worth remembering the faithful witnesses of Christ’s teaching who became martyrs – the good pastors who gave their lives for their flocks.

At the same time, the identities of the murderers themselves mostly remain vague. Several, others, a group – that is all we know about them. Their tracks were obscured in the mud, their names were not noted in the pages of history. However, the memory of martyrs shines like a star. After all, the blood of martyrs is the seed of the church.

The book ‘Halálra ítélve. Papi sorsok 1956 után’ (Sentenced to Death. Fates of priests after 1956) can be purchased or read online at kiadvanyok.neb.hu.

Departure from a corner of Transylvania

Sándor Csoma was born into a family of Calvinist Szekler-Hungarian border guards in 1784, in the village of Kőrös not far from Covasna (Kovászna), in the southeast corner of Transylvania. From 1799 he studied at the Reformed College in Aiud (Nagyenyed) – even then his extraordinary linguistic talents were apparent – completing his college studies in spring 1815. Between 1816-1818, he entered into Oriental studies, Oriental languages, Hebrew, Arabic, Persian and Turkish at the University of Göttingen with a modest scholarship from Aiud. This is also where he acquired the foundations of English and French. By the time he returned home, he wrote, read and spoke 13 living and extinct languages.

He decided to dedicate his life to the research of his Hungarian ancient homeland, which he suspected lay in far-off Asia, and the peoples and languages ​​related to the Hungarians.

At that time, the concept of Hun-Hungarian, indeed Uyghur-Hungarian kinship was alive in both Hungarian and European science, which encouraged him to seek the cradle and kin of Hungarians in the former territories of these peoples.

Half way around the world

In possession of a modest amount of cash, in November 1819 he set off eastwards, never to return. It took two years, having been delayed by wars, natural and human factors, and after transiting through Alexandria, Aleppo, Mosul, Bagdad and Teheran, before he finally reached Kabul in Afghanistan. In the meantime, in Teheran, he left his books, papers and European clothing with the British ambassador, reckoning that he could progress in greater safety and with better results when dressed in Armenian attire. On his travels he learnt about local cultures, peoples and languages. His route took him via Peshawar, Amritsar and Srinagar towards the British Raj of India. He made it to the western arm of the Himalayas and the province of Ladakh in northern India, but it seemed so difficult and hopeless to travel on from here that he preferred to turn back. This is when he met William Moorcroft of the East India Company, on whose behalf and working in the service of the British, he began to study the language, culture and religion of Tibetans living between the Karakorum and the Himalayas. Adapting himself to the local conditions, he resided in Zanskar and Phugtal Buddhist monasteries and Zangla royal fortress amidst most spartan conditions. Aided by his colleague Lama Sandje Puncog, he acquired the Tibetan language and studied the holy scriptures of Tibetan Buddhism. Over the next few years he compiled a Tibetan-English dictionary and a volume on Tibetan grammar, which were published in 1834.

He ate little, his main food being tea mixed with yak butter.

He dressed simply, he lived in unheated cells or huts, but he remained steadfastly enthusiastic about his exhausting and eye-straining work as he studied ancient manuscripts.

In the meantime, he lived in the hope that sooner or later he would be able to continue his journey on the northern side of the Himalayas, towards the secretive Tibet and Central Asia which he suspected was the ancient homeland of the Hungarians. By this time his publications had made him a recognized researcher in scholarly circles and in 1834 he was elected a member of the British Asian Society. A few of his works made it back to Hungary and he conducted correspondence with Hungarians as well. In 1833, he was made a corresponding member of the Academy, the Hungarian Scientific Society.

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The Zanskar river valley close to the village of Zangla, Ladakh, India - Photo: Profimedia - Red Dot

From Calcutta to the foot of the final mountain

The fact that from 1832 the Asian Society gave him a modestly paid job in its library in Calcutta wrought a favourable change in his working conditions. His chief task was reviewing the scientific collection including the Tibetan manuscripts. He published a series of scholarly papers, including an essay on the life and teachings of the Buddha and studies on Tibetan linguistics. In the meantime, he spent a few years in the Himalayas, on the border of Bhutan, Sikkim and Nepal, studying the local languages; by this time the number of languages he had acquired certain degrees of proficiency in ran to around thirty.

His grand plan was to cross through the mountains and make it to Lhasa, the Forbidden City, the hub of Tibetan Buddhism that was closed off to Europeans, where he intended to search in its famous library for sources referencing the Hungarians.

After lengthy preparations, in early 1842, aged 58, he set off on this great journey.  However, he fell sick with malaria on the border between India and Nepal. Thus he was forced to halt in the city of Darjeeling, at the foot of Kangchenjunga, the third highest peak in the Himalayas, in order to recuperate. However, he was so weakened by fever that he passed away on 11 April 1842. He was buried in the British cemetery in Darjeeling and the Asian Society erected a fine memorial over the grave. In 2008, his cell in the Zangla royal fortress was declared a memorial site and the building was restored with private and state funding from Hungary.

Tivadar Duka, the Hungarian doctor living in India and then London, became his first biographer. He collected his manuscripts and bequest and, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the birth of Kőrösi Csoma, translated the majority of his works. The volume Life and Works of Alexander Csoma de Kőrös was published in English and Hungarian in 1885. This work also played a large part in the fact that he is regarded by international Oriental studies as one of the greatest scholars of Tibetan philology. Here in Hungary, József Eötvös gave a memorial speech on him at the Academy in 1843, his papers were published and later on a scientific society and institute took on his name. As a mark of respect, the village of his birth changed its name from Kőrös to Csomakőrös. Buddhists also cherish his memory, several stupas have been raised in his honour, in Japan he is revered as a bodhisattva even though there is no evidence that he converted to Buddhism.

The most fitting tribute to his life is the epitaph formulated by István Széchenyi:

“Without money or applause, inspired by resolute, persistent patriotism, a poor Hungarian - Sándor Kőrösi Csoma - sought the cradle of the Hungarians and finally succumbed due to his endeavours. He lies in eternal sleep far from his homeland, but he lives in the souls of all good Hungarians.”