When the sun set on October 8, 2016, Hungarian politics witnessed an event as unbelievable as it was expected by those astute enough to see the writing on the wall. Népszabadság, the leftist behemoth that had long positioned itself as Hungary's go-to mouthpiece for socialist ideology, was shuttered—overnight. The newspaper, which translates to 'People’s Freedom', had been in publication since 1956, the year of the Hungarian Revolution, making its closure a moment that resonated deeply from the bustling streets of Budapest to the halls of power in Brussels. While its termination was shrouded in controversy and melodrama, a closer look reveals all the reasons why this left-leaning relic needed to go.
First and foremost, Népszabadság had morphed from a newspaper into a mere instrument of political indoctrination. Hammer and sickle-studded nostalgia permeated its pages, keeping the ideals of communist sympathies alive in a country striving to shake off the last chains of Soviet influence. Born out of the ashes of a revolution, it ironically catered to those who wistfully remembered the days when Hungary was little more than Moscow's puppet. It's almost poetic that Népszabadság could not adapt to an increasingly informed public no longer interested in state-sponsored narratives. The free market of ideas, quite simply, outgrew it.
Then we have the financial aspect; always the Achilles' heel of unfavorably skewed media. The proprietors of Népszabadság claimed to be stunned by its sudden closure, but the financial woes were more visible than ever. The paper hadn't turned a profit in ages, and its readership shriveled like skin under the midday sun. A loss of over $5 million was reportedly incurred the previous year alone. Yet, we are supposed to believe that this was an operation silenced by political rivals? Please.
And who might these so-called political rivals be, anyway? Ah yes, Hungary's conservative forces, whom the paper loved to demonize as Orwellian figures bent on stifling free press. Except, in this case, they were merely engaging in the same free market practices that decide the fate of any and all business ventures. When a left-leaning outfit starts pointing fingers at political adversaries instead of addressing its own failures, the narrative loses credibility faster than you can say 'social justice'.
Now let’s dive into a bit of geopolitical intrigue, as no story of communist nostalgia would be complete without it. The European left fretted over Népszabadság’s demise, casting it as yet another example of encroaching autocracy under Viktor Orbán’s administration. But to extend this line of thinking is to misunderstand that Hungary’s politics have shifted rightward due to the needs and demands of its population. The alarm bells raised by Berlin and Brussels were, predictably, disconnected from Hungary's own reality.
The mainstream narrative would have you believe that Népszabadság was a bastion of free speech and independent journalism. Such claims are as fictional as the socialist utopias romanticized in its columns. It was known for serving up news with an unmistakable ideological bent, often sidestepping facts with deft agility that would've made even the most seasoned acrobat jealous. When a publication prioritizes propaganda over news, it should surprise no one that audiences eventually lose interest.
And then there’s the digital revolution—the proverbial iceberg to Népszabadság’s Titanic. As media shifted to online platforms, the paper failed to modernize. Subscribers moved to digital outlets that promised diversity of thought, not to mention quicker and cheaper access to information. Sticking to 'business as usual' in today’s fast-paced digital world is a recipe for disaster. Perhaps the paper’s executives hoped that nostalgia could pay the bills; if so, their plan backfired spectacularly.
Why should anyone in the know mourn its closure? Embodying a fixation on 20th-century ideologies, Népszabadság offered a vision of Hungary that was increasingly out of step with an evolving national identity. The pinstripe suits in European media circles may light candles for it, but for average Hungarian citizens focused on building a future free of socialist baggage, the newspaper was a relic of an era best left behind.
In short, Népszabadság’s shuttering wasn’t an assault on freedom of the press but rather a natural consequence of clinging too tightly to obsolete ideals. It failed to reflect the changing pulse of Hungarian society—a society eager to forge its own path free of foreign dictates and antiquated doctrines. So while its fate might have irked various leftist circles, for many, it was nothing more than the inevitable collapse of a flawed system clinging desperately to the past.