Earliest childhood memory? Until I was seven, Hungary was a communist country under Soviet influence. I can still picture the large red star on top of the parliament building. We’d see it when we drove through Budapest in our Trabant, crossing the Danube towards the city centre. After the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, the star was suddenly gone. My mother told me we had become a democracy. It was only a year later, during the first elections, that I began to grasp what that meant. Billboards with political slogans along the roads were something completely new and felt bizarre. People on our street even displayed in their windows who they had voted for. Things are very different in present-day Hungary.
I’m nervous about the Hungarian elections. Actually, I’m mostly hopeful. When Orbán came to power in 2010, I already told friends that he would likely stay for at least 15 to 20 years. This is the first time it looks like he and his party Fidesz can no longer keep the opposition at bay. But that’s scary too – there are fears that they will manipulate the election results or refuse to relinquish power if they lose. At the same time, you notice that people are less afraid to voice criticism of the government. A great deal of damage has been done to institutions, to the free press, to the arts and cultural life. People are exhausted, and they can see that the government is unable to solve their problems. I hope Hungary can set a good example this time by showing that it’s possible for a country to move away from an authoritarian, far-right government.
"My parents hoped I would become a pro tennis player rather than go into academia, even though they were both academics themselves"
Unforgettable sports moment. In 2002, I watched the Davis Cup final between Russia and France on television. It was funny, as I knew quite a few of the players well from having played against them myself. I was a national junior tennis champion. My parents hoped I would go pro rather than go into academia, even though they were both academics themselves. My father completed a PhD in economics, and my mother worked at a prestigious research institute. Even so, they never earned much money. They hoped I would be able to make it as a pro player. I had good technique, but I lacked power, and I suffered an injury when I was about sixteen. I became interested in books and philosophy. To my own surprise, I got a scholarship to study at University College Utrecht, which my parents could never have afforded. That was when they came to accept my academic path.
This is how I let off steam. I still exercise a lot. I try to run every day for thirty minutes to an hour, preferably in the middle of the day so I can return to work with a clear head. It’s necessary. We’re constantly “switched on”, getting emails and messages all day long, and teaching is very intensive. You need a moment to get back to basics. I don’t jog at a leisurely pace, either; I like to push myself hard. Despite my age, I’m faster than ever.
"Growing up, nearly everyone carried some kind of trauma, but no one talked about it"
Favourite band? When I was a teenager, it was The Cure. They were hugely popular in Hungary at the time. Their dark, melancholic music fitted the economically difficult years after the collapse of the Soviet Union. They’re still around; they’re playing at Rock Werchter this summer. I bought tickets out of nostalgia.
History has always fascinated me. Growing up in Hungary, nearly everyone carried some kind of trauma – from the First World War, the Second World War, the Soviet era… from persecution to murdered family members. But no one talked about it. Even my grandfathers didn’t. One had survived a Soviet labour camp and the other had been forced to surrender his farmland to the communists. It deeply shaped their lives. I wanted to break those taboos by talking and writing about them. I think that explains my fascination with contemporary history.
The hardest thing about parenting is… how quickly children change. Just when you think you’ve got them figured out, they’re different again the next year. I struggled with that with my son. The first few years were very intense anyway. My wife and I both have busy jobs and we had no grandparents nearby to help out. That’s also why we waited so long before having our second child, but we felt like it was now or never. Fortunately, I now have a better idea of what to expect. At the same time, my son is slowly becoming a teenager. The world is so different now; because of the internet, he already knows more at the age of ten than I did at the age of fifteen. I enjoy doing things together to get him out of his room. I’m quite a flexible and liberal parent, perhaps sometimes too much so. It’s a good thing my wife is stricter.
"I’m fairly well known in Hungary, but if you truly want to make a difference, you need to live there"
Big dream? If I was very rich, I’d open a bookshop in Brussels. A kind of European version of Politics and Prose in Washington, D.C., where I went all the time during the year I spent there as a research fellow. It hosts daily book talks and brings people together to exchange ideas. It’s important to have such places close to centres of power, where you can connect critical intellectual discussions to politics.
My future is in… That’s a real dilemma. Will I ever move back to Hungary? Definitely not as long as Orbán is in power. It’s difficult to know how dangerous that would be. There has been a public campaign against me. At the same time, I want to offer a voice of opposition. I currently do so from a distance. I’m fairly well known in Hungary; my books sell well there and I regularly appear in independent media outlets. But if you truly want to make a difference, you need to live there. But I also don’t want to leave behind my life here – I have a nice house, my children are growing up here. I’ve always thought I might move to Italy one day; I feel I would fit in very well with the culture there. I’m in my forties now, and I will have to make a decision at some point.