Deradicalisation of Jobbik and its consequences – a visual ethnographic analysis of the symbolic and ritual change of a Hungarian radical right party

The past decade in Hungary has marked the consolidation of power for the Fidesz party and its leader, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. He has led the country towards authoritarianism (see e.g. Ágh, 2016; Nyyssönen, 2017) and practised nationalist as well as xenophobic politics that are characteristic of the populist radical right (Mudde, 2007, 2019). Simultaneously, the radical right in opposition represented by Jobbik has had to find a new position closer to the political centre or mainstream (see e.g. Bíró-Nagy & Boros, 2016; Krekó & Juhász, 2017). In this article I focus on Jobbik, which was earlier known for its radical right and ultranationalist politics as well as for its infamous paramilitary guard and hostility towards Hungary’s Roma minority (see Stewart, 2012). I analyse the top-down-led deradicalisation process that the party went through during 2013–2019 and which ultimately led to the formation of a new radical right party, Mi Hazánk Mozgalom (Our Homeland Movement), in 2018. I concentrate on the changes in the symbolic and ritualistic sphere as well as the consequences those changes had for the group solidarity. The purpose of this case study is to provide a more in-depth understanding of the centrality of nationalist symbols and rituals for radical right parties and movements, as well as for the subculture they are often linked to.

I argue that Jobbik’s deradicalisation and the disappearance of radical nationalistic symbols and rituals led to the collapse of the prerequisites for strong group solidarity and consequently to the disappearance of the radical nationalistic identity of the party, which I have previously called ‘Jobbikian nationhood’ (Hyttinen, 2016). The reappearance of the radical nationalist symbols in Mi Hazánk gatherings further strengthens the case for the crucial role of symbols for radical right parties. Ultimately, this implies that the essence of radical right nationalism consists of the visual and material manifestations of nationalist symbols and rituals (see Molnár, 2016; Zubrzycki, 2017). Therefore, it is not sufficient to study the radical right only via its political programmes and speeches. Instead, a more holistic and multisensory approach is needed (Pink, 2011, 2013), that considers the unwritten and unspoken aspects of social reality. Consequently, I emphasise in my research the visual-performative side of politics and approach political gatherings as ritualistic and symbolic action.

Symbols are powerful totems into which meanings and power can be condensed through rituals (Collins, 2004, 2014a; Durkheim, 1912/1995; Kertzer, 1988). As a result, they become important material bearers of group identity. Such symbols and related rituals can create group solidarity (Durkheim, 1912/1995). Especially in Hungary, symbols have a central role in political discourse (Palonen, 2018b, p. 184). Although new symbols can be created, they do not automatically possess the power needed for creating group solidarity. They require common and repetitive rituals, along with connected myths, to be filled with meaning (see e.g. Collins, 2004). The Jobbik party leadership had to face this problem in their attempts at creating the new, more mainstream identity of Jobbik.

The national day commemorations in Budapest offer an interesting setting for observing the fragmented and politicised nature of Hungarian nationalism (see Brubaker & Feischmidt, 2002; Nyyssönen, 2008; Palonen, 2009). This article draws on data collected in Jobbik’s and Mi Hazánk’s national day party gatherings in 2017–2019 as well as the election campaign before the April 2018 parliamentary elections, contrasted with previous data from 2013 to 2014 Jobbik gatherings before the 2014 elections. This selection allows one to analyse the changes in the visual-performative character of the gatherings during national days, which due to their nature encourage nationalist and nativist (self-)expression. However, this article does not aim at providing an all-encompassing picture of Jobbik’s deradicalisation. Rather, this article seeks to provide a close-up image of the changes in the symbolic and ritualistic sphere at the interface of radical right subculture and the party moving away from it.

In what follows, I first discuss the main developments that led to the deradicalisation of the populist radical right party Jobbik and then present the rationale behind my theoretical and methodological approach. In the analysis, I focus on radical nationalist symbols, rituals, and subculture in the context of the top-down-led moderation of Jobbik.

Jobbik was originally established in 1999 as a right-wing youth association. In 2003, the association transformed into a political party and its official name was changed to Jobbik, The Movement for a Better Hungary (see Krekó & Juhász, 2017). The party was led between 2006 and 2018 by a young and charismatic leader, Gábor Vona, who was also one of the founders of the party’s paramilitary wing, Magyar Gárda (the Hungarian Guard). During the first years of Vona’s leadership, Jobbik became known for politicising the Roma issue, which was a key to its success (e.g. Karácsony & Róna, 2010; Kovács, 2013; Stewart, 2012).

In the 2010 parliamentary elections, Jobbik campaigned with ‘Gypsy crime’ and ‘politician crime’ as their main themes and succeeded in gaining 17% of the vote with their openly racist and xenophobic agenda (Nemzeti Választási Iroda, NVI). Before the 2014 election, Jobbik turned in a more moderate direction and targeted younger, more mainstream voters (see Bíró-Nagy & Boros, 2016; Krekó & Juhász, 2017). Although Gábor Vona’s new more centrist and moderate policies were not well received among many of the hard liners within the party, Jobbik was still able to grow their voter base to 20% in the 2014 election (NVI).

Hungary’s role as a gateway for asylum seekers heading to Central and Northern Europe in 2015 meant a temporary shift away from Jobbik’s moderation. Vona’s attempts to build a softer face coexisted with arguments for extremely strict immigration policy. Jobbik was, however, unable to utilise this momentum as well as Fidesz. In summer 2016, Vona published on his Facebook account a long self-searching piece about ‘killing the soul of Jobbik’ in order to make it a more mature party (Vona, 2016). Besides attempting to make Jobbik a more mainstream party suitable for governing, Vona’s decision needs to be viewed in relation to Fidesz’s shift towards the radical right. Moving to the centre can be seen as a reasonable tactical move in a situation where there was less and less space on the right (see e.g. Krekó & Juhász, 2017). However, taking Jobbik further on the path to moderation and whitewashing Jobbik’s past did not lead to wider popularity. Instead, in the 2018 parliamentary elections, Jobbik’s popularity declined a little from 20% to 19% (NVI). All in all, the elections were a great disappointment to Jobbik and Vona, who had seriously aimed at defeating Fidesz and becoming the next prime minister.

The reasons behind Jobbik’s – and other opposition parties’ – weak performance can partly be explained by the new voting system that gave disproportionate advantage to the largest party, as well as by the state supported media whose main purpose is to promote Fidesz and its policies. Another landslide victory in the April 2018 elections gave Fidesz a new two-thirds majority. For his part, Jobbik’s leader Gábor Vona took personal responsibility for the party’s failure to win the elections on his chosen path of moderation and following the election resigned from the leadership.

After the election, Jobbik’s existence was seriously threatened by the large fines imposed on it by the State Audit Office and its own internal conflicts. Jobbik’s poor results in the 2019 European parliamentary elections show, as Scheiring and Szombati (2019) argue, that Fidesz is currently so powerful that it is capable of appointing its own opposition. However, in the October 2019 local elections the joint opposition was able, for the first time, to shake Fidesz’s hold on power by gaining victories in Budapest and some other large cities. Despite this, Hungary is still largely under Fidesz’s control and the relative success of the joint opposition should not be taken as a sign of a functioning democracy (see Hegedűs, 2019). In Hungary, the moderation of Jobbik and the simultaneous radicalisation of Fidesz has led to a situation where it is hard to draw a line between what used to be called the radical right and the mainstream conservative right (see Mudde, 2019).

Creating confrontation and dividing people sharply into us and them is a central characteristic of radical right parties. This can be observed from the perspective of populism as well as nationalism. The terms populism and nationalism are often used interchangeably, even if the former refers primarily to the vertical distinction between the people (as underdog) and the elite, whilst the latter refers to the horizontal distinction between the people (as nation) and outsiders (see De Cleen, 2017; Palonen, 2018a). Brubaker (2019, p. 2) has nevertheless suggested that ‘populism and nationalism are most fruitfully construed as analytically distinct but not analytically independent: as intersecting and mutually implicated though not fully overlapping fields of phenomena’. However, De Cleen and Stavrakakis (2020, p. 4) argue that despite the ambiguity of the phenomena, the concepts of populism and nationalism should be defined in an unambiguous way so that they can be used as a starting point for analysis. I argue that disentangling the two concepts is useful for analytical clarity, although in real life it can be difficult to differentiate the two phenomena, especially where radical right populism is concerned.

Populism is often marked by a certain political opportunism that allows even contradictory elements to coexist, so long as the leader presenting them is capable of maintaining a certain credibility and authority. Populism can be understood as ‘a thin-centered ideology that considers society to be ultimately separated into two homogenous and antagonistic camps, “the pure people” and “the corrupt elite”’ (Mudde & Kaltwasser, 2017, p. 6). To exist, populism needs other host ideologies (full or thin) such as socialism or nationalism (Mudde, 2004). Alternatively, in a rhetoric-performative approach building on Laclau’s (2005) work, populism is seen as a logic of articulation without any fixed content, instead it is entangled with other ideologies (Palonen, 2020). Although these approaches differ in their understanding of whether populism in itself has any content, they both emphasise the centrality of contents from other ideologies to support populist claims. These contents are then used to divide groups of people into us and them. Moreover, these divisions are by their very nature antagonistic. It is therefore common that populism is attached to frontier building and divisive ideologies such as nationalism or more specifically nativism, which is often the case with populist radical right parties.

Nationalism is here understood as constructed and it appears in various forms, such as through public enactment, symbols, ethnopolitical claims, and discourses (Brubaker, Feischmidt, Fox, & Grancea, 2008, p. 358). Nationalism evolves through repetition, ritual, and articulation (Tsang & Woods, 2014). From this it follows that nationalism is not present constantly to the same extent. Instead, it is condensed during moments of great national celebrations or tragedies as well as during days designed to commemorate such moments, in other words, national days and commemorations (cf. Collins, 2014b; Elgenius, 2011). Nationalism, or more precisely nativism, that is nationalism combined with xenophobia (see Mudde, 2007), is central for analysing the radical right since it forms the ideological core of radical right parties and their supporters’ self-understanding. For the radical right, nativism forms the basis of a strong ‘civil religion’ (see Marvin & Ingle, 1999) whose contents are far less malleable than those of populism.

Social rituals were central to Durkheim (1912/1995), who studied how, under certain circumstances, assembled groups of people experienced heightened shared emotions and as a result solidarity. Collins (2004, pp. 48–49) presents the interaction rituals as consisting of certain basic ingredients: group assembly, barrier to outsiders, mutual focus of attention, and shared mood. If the gathering is successful in producing intensified shared emotions, they result in group solidarity, emotional energy, shared symbols, and standards of morality. A successful ritual can be built upon various emotions, but anger and fear are often seen as powerful ‘political emotions’ (Collins, 2014b). Collective emotions (as well as individual emotions) are not private and can therefore be observed by others (see Salmela, 2018). They are a central part of interaction rituals, which form chains as people move intentionally towards successful rituals that create high emotional energy (Collins, 2004).

Symbols and rituals are central for understanding nationalism and politics fuelled by nationalist ideology (see e.g. Collins, 2004, 2014a, 2014b; Elgenius, 2011; Feischmidt, 2014; Fox, 2014; Marvin & Ingle, 1999; Tsang & Woods, 2014). Kertzer (1988) has emphasised the importance and power that rituals as well as symbols have in politics. Rituals, together with symbols that carry meanings attached to them, can create a sense of continuity and provoke strong emotional responses (Kertzer, 1988). Aronoff and Kubik (2013) also stress the centrality of rituals for political life. Including ‘the symbolic dimension of politics into the analytical frame’ allows one to research how these meanings are constituted through rituals in the public space (Aronoff & Kubik, 2013, p. 106).

Visual depictions and material embodiments (such as symbols and totems) are often the forms in which people encounter historical narratives and national myths (Zubrzycki, 2017). This concrete way of experiencing the nation can give rise to powerful emotional sentiments such as nationalist belonging (Zubrzycki, 2017). Visual symbols or icons also condense meanings into a material form (see Alexander, 2008; Turner, 1967). In the same way solidarity can be stored and prolonged in symbols (Collins, 2004). It can be argued ‘that it is the relatively shared set of stories, images, and material symbols, and the disagreement as much as the consensus evoked in response to them, that generate “a nation”’ (Zubrzycki, 2017).

Miller-Idriss (2017a) has claimed that radical right-wing symbols have constitutive power and that they can shape identity and strengthen racist and nationalist identification. As such, symbols and the objects which contain them (e.g. clothes and flags) can also mobilise extreme action and serve as a gateway to far right culture (Miller-Idriss, 2017a). Radical right symbols can simultaneously express comradeship and belonging towards the in-group, as well as signal resistance and rebellion against the out-group (see Miller-Idriss, 2017b). I argue that in the same way, the absence of symbols and rituals can weaken the shared group identity and even dissolve a certain group which these constitutive elements were previously holding together.

In Hungary, the symbols related to the memory of the Treaty of Trianon (1920) and the lost territories form a central nationalist symbolic repertoire (see e.g. Feischmidt, 2014). These were produced and used for the first time during the interwar period, with the emergence of revisionist¹ and nationalist policies aimed at regaining the lost territories (Zeidler, 2002). Trianon-related symbolism was central for Jobbik and the radical right subcultures that surrounded it. The symbols were, however, not used to just commemorate the past, but were also used to express dissatisfaction with current societal issues and policies (Feischmidt, 2014). The various symbolic elements borrowed from the interwar years included for example: the Map of Greater Hungary, the pre-Trianon coat of arms, and the Hungarian National Prayer (Magyar Hiszekegy) (see Hyttinen, 2016). These symbols and the beliefs related to them, form a visual and material symbolic network which can be seen as representing the sacred objects of the radical right subculture. Kotwas and Kubik (2019, p. 443) divide these symbolic systems into either ‘thin’ or ‘thick’ depending on how tightly the symbols are connected to each other. Thick symbolic systems, of which I consider Trianon to be an example, constitute a larger unity and appeal mainly to communities that are ready to embrace the entire vision which the symbolic system has to offer (Kotwas & Kubik, 2019).

Right-wing radicalism in Hungary has until recently been a phenomenon that could be understood through the term subculture, i.e. a group that differentiates itself from the larger national culture and has its own norms, values, identity, and cultural objects (Mudde, 2019, p. 56). Jobbik’s emergence was closely tied to this subculture, which it is now trying to distance itself from. Radical right affiliations expressed through everyday material objects bring elements of radical ideology in a banal form to Hungarians’ daily lives, thus serving as a link between the subculture and the mainstream (see Miller-Idriss, 2017a; Molnár, 2016).

Molnár’s (2016) definition of right-wing radicalism is a useful starting point to reflect on the current development of Jobbik. The process of stripping the party of the earlier symbols and rituals, as well as distancing it from the subculture surrounding it, raises a question: what is left? If these elements constitute right-wing radicalism, can Jobbik exist without them and if so, in what form? On the other hand, what is the role of Mi Hazánk, where the radical right subculture and related commodities have found a new political home? Fidesz’s politics, moreover, have mainstreamed cultural elements that earlier would have been considered characteristic of radical nationalist subculture.

National day commemorations in Hungary are events with a strong visual and multisensory character. Therefore, they benefit from a holistic methodological approach that takes into account the complexity of such gatherings. Particularly radical right parties and subcultures actively make use of various visual symbols and material culture to emphasise their identity and ideological roots (see Miller-Idriss, 2017a). Studying the visual domain empirically is critical for understanding radical and extreme right thinking (Miller-Idriss, 2017a, p. 213). With the help of visual ethnographic methods (see Pink, 2013) it is possible to focus especially on non-verbal and unquantifiable elements (Pauwels, 2010). In national day gatherings, such elements can take the form of flags, coats of arms, maps, logos, and other visual symbols (Eriksen, 2007; Feischmidt, 2014; Jenkins, 2011). My research focuses on these symbols and their usage in their immediate and wider societal contexts, taking into account also the historical context. In addition, the longitudinal approach allows for an examination of the changes in the visual sphere of the national day gatherings over a longer time (2013–2019), a period that was also marked by significant changes in Jobbik’s position and politics.

The data I have collected for this research consists of photographs and video clips which I have taken during six national day gatherings organised by Jobbik and three organised by Mi Hazánk in Budapest, Hungary on 20 August 2017 and 2018 (Saint Stephen's Day, Foundation of the Hungarian State), 23 October 2017 and 2018 (Memorial Day of the 1956 Revolution), and 15 March 2018 and 2019 (Memorial Day of the 1848 Revolution). In addition, I compare this data with earlier data I collected during 2013–2014 in Jobbik’s national day commemorations. This allows for a longitudinal time perspective and makes it easier to study changes in the visual symbolism of Jobbik, thus providing an excellent point of comparison with Mi Hazánk and the ways in which it has appropriated the symbols and rituals abandoned by Jobbik. My new visual field material used for this article consists of 529 photos and 50 short videos. All in all, together with the previous field material, this means I have 654 photos and 74 short videos. For further qualitative visual analyses, I have chosen 191 photos and 7 film stills. From this large set of visual ethnographic material, I have chosen for the purposes and limited scope of this article 11 photos. These photos are part of my ethnographic field material and are used for analysing the changes in the symbolic and visual sphere during Jobbik’s deradicalisation.

I conducted the study using ethnographic methods, more specifically, participant observation and visual ethnography. Based on the visual material and the field notes, I compiled one photo essay² for each gathering (see Jenkins, 2011). In addition, I organised the visual material thematically according to my research focus on categories such as ‘visual expressions of identity’ or ‘revisionist symbols’. The photos I chose for this article represent symbolic and visual elements, which demonstrate the process of Jobbik’s deradicalisation and ritual and symbolic emptying, as well as the reappearance of the radical nationalist symbolism at the Mi Hazánk gatherings.

This analysis relies strongly on participant observation in all twelve gatherings. I have recorded audio comments and written down field notes during and after the gatherings. Being present made it possible to observe the general mood and interactions between the participants as well as between the participants and the party leadership. It was also crucial for understanding the use of particular symbols during the ritual interactions and their connections to other symbols. Grasping the complexity of the symbolic networks and the related rituals is only possible when they are observed in the social context and situation where they are being used.

During my first field work in Budapest on 20 August, 2013 I attended Jobbik’s national day gathering, where the party’s xenophobic and anti-Roma attitudes were still on full display. This was also one of the last events in which Jobbik and the radical nationalist subculture that surrounded the party seemed to exist in a symbiotic state whereby one strengthened the other. Later in autumn 2013, while preparing for the 2014 parliamentary election campaign, Jobbik’s leader Gábor Vona made a conscious decision to strip the party of its radical rhetoric in order to become a true ‘néppárt’ (people’s party) and gain a wider popularity.

When I returned to the field four years later on 20 August, 2017, it became clear that the deradicalisation development that had started in 2013 had been taken much further. The change was no longer limited to the party leader Vona’s rhetoric, which was the first element of the gatherings that went through a strategic moderation starting in late 2013 (Hyttinen, 2016; Hyttinen & Näre, 2017). Now the change had penetrated the previously rather intact symbolic sphere, which marked the final split between the radical nationalist subculture and Jobbik. The attempt to move from the margins to the mainstream and to widen Jobbik’s voter base required distance from the thick symbolic system (see Kotwas & Kubik, 2019) that used to be the basis and source of strength for their radical nationalist party identity.

The exact same stage was decorated with a very different banner four years later. The new slogan stated now in a more conciliatory tone ‘Jobbik on the people’s side!’ (Jobbik a nép pártján!). The stage (Figure 2), which four years earlier had been the setting for deeply anti-Roma, anti-Semitic and anti-EU speeches, was now used to launch a campaign for collecting names for a European Wage Union. This was in stark contrast with the 2013 slogan and speeches which saw the EU as an enemy and oppressor. In 2017, Vona emphasised in his speech Hungary’s role at ‘the heart of Europe’ and was aiming at constructively changing the EU from within.

The main stage in August 2013 also had a big banner with a slogan (Figure 3), which is a direct quotation from another Hungarian poet, Sándor Sajó (1868–1933). The quote ‘Get away robbers, – this is my home’ (El innen a rablók, - ez az én hazám) refers to the lost territories in Slovakia, Romania and Serbia. However, in the present context it can also be understood as a message to different groups who Jobbik considers ‘robbers’, such as representatives of multinational corporations and the EU.

The bigger stage (Figure 4) had also been largely redesigned and the earlier identifiably revisionist text was replaced with a slogan stating, ‘With Hungarian heart, common sense, and clean [uncorrupted] hands’ (Magyar Szívvel, józan ésszel, tiszta kézzel) aiming at attracting nationally-minded, decent, and honest Hungarian citizens. This same slogan was also the title for the Jobbik 2018 party programme, which further emphasises the changes from the 2010 programme, which was titled simply ‘Radical change’, and in 2014 ‘We name it. We solve it.’ Another noticeable symbolic shift from radical nationalism towards a more mainstream and inclusive understanding of nationhood was the change from the red and white A´rpád flag to the red-white-green tricolour in the background of the slogans. However, the supporter on the left wearing a Trianon t-shirt (Figure 4) shows that top-down led changes do not easily change the supporters’ identification with the old revisionist and radical nationalist symbolism.

The examples above show a shift from historical references to modern slogans, which no longer attempt to instrumentalise the past for present purposes. This change is in line with abandoning revisionist and radical nationalist symbolism. Another significant change is that the new slogans are not directed against anyone. They no longer create outer enemies, such as the EU or inner enemies like the Roma, and therefore they do not utilise black and white ideological divisions into us and them. Group solidarity is no longer built with the help of the collective emotions of fear and anger (Collins, 2004), which were created with exclusive radical symbols and connected rituals. This together with the more consolidating tone of Vona’s speeches clearly changed the mood and intensity of the gatherings. The European citizen initiative (August 2017) and calls to unite Hungarians rather than to divide them (March 2018), were not motifs that could create collective effervescence (Durkheim, 1912/1995) among the reluctant audience that was steered towards Vona’s chosen path of moderation. This resulted in flat rituals (Collins, 2004) and a lack of interaction and engagement on the audience’s part.

The earlier symbiotic relationship between Jobbik and the surrounding nationalist subculture was, however, only a shadow of its former self and some of the supporters with their radical nationalist accessories seemed out of place. This led to a dissolution of the thick symbolic system (see Kotwas & Kubik, 2019) around Jobbik, which relied heavily on revisionist, Trianon-related symbols and to some extent on other nationalist and mythical symbols. After the unity was broken, the symbolic system’s power to maintain strong radical nationalist party identity disappeared. As a result, the symbols’ role as vessels of shared emotions and the consequent group solidarity and values linked to ‘Jobbikian nationhood’, were weakened and eventually disappeared altogether.

Already in 2014 Jobbik had employed a dual strategy: showing a more moderate face towards a wider audience, while reassuring the core supporters of the true radical nationalist nature of the party. There is, however, a certain limit to how far the differences between the public image and inner communication can be stretched. Eventually, the change in rhetoric also required more substantial changes on the level of symbols and rituals in order to avoid increasing dissonance. Interestingly, this shift was personified and initiated by Jobbik’s leader Gábor Vona, who is the founder of the original Magyar Gárda. Moreover, as Krekó and Juhász (2017, p. 129) have noted, it is rather atypical that a person who used to represent the extremist line should lead the party to moderation.

After the disappointment of the 2018 parliamentary elections and the resignation of Vona, Jobbik was facing an existential struggle and tried to redefine its identity at the 20 August, 2018 gathering. Indecision coupled with the need to distinguish the party from undesirable elements of the radical nationalist subculture could be observed also in the change of music that was performed during Jobbik’s national day gatherings. The national rock (nemzeti rock) bands such as ‘Hungarica’ had always been a central element of Jobbik’s gatherings and many young people attended these events to see their favourite bands perform.

The strong presence of paramilitary groups has been central for both Jobbik and later for Mi Hazánk. Paramilitary organisations symbolise for their supporters order and discipline, as well as represent the potential threat of violence for their opponents. These groups personify, along with other ideological radical right elements, masculinity and nationalism, which often seem to amplify one another (see Miller-Idriss, 2017b). Paramilitary groups become living symbols and embodiments of radical nationalist ideology (Hyttinen & Näre, 2017). Radical right subcultural style also provides its members with the possibility of strengthening ‘a sense of identity and group belonging’ (Miller-Idriss, 2017b, p. 200).

It appears that Mi Hazánk’s leader, László Toroczkai, followed Vona’s manual for forming a radical right party to the finest detail. He clearly attempted to build a new radical party that relies on a radical nationalist subculture and on one of its key features: admiration of violence and physical power, embodied by paramilitary organisations. Figure 9 from the Mi Hazánk gathering on October 23, 2018 shows well the ritualistic nature of these events. The audience stands focused, facing the shared nationalist and party symbols and totems, while the leaders surrounded by the symbols play their role by uniting and creating us through their speeches. All the elements for a successful ritual (see Collins, 2004) are in place.

Interestingly, in October 2019 both Jobbik and Mi Hazánk chose to hold their gathering at the Corvin Passage, one immediately after the other. This led to the conflict I had anticipated in 2018. Some activists from the earlier Mi Hazánk event, linked to paramilitary organisations such as Betyársereg and the recently established Légió Hungária, stayed to protest against Jobbik. Jobbik’s event was disturbed when toilet rolls were thrown and ‘hazaáruló’ (homeland traitor) was chanted at the soon to be elected new party leader Péter Jakab (see Bogatin & Tóth, 2019). Also, the late Gergely Pongrátz’s younger brother, András Pongrátz, who spoke at the Mi Hazánk event, expressed his outrage that the new moderate Jobbik dared to gather in such a sacred location (see Pongrátz, 2019).

The common greeting ‘Adjon az Isten!’ (May God grant it!) followed by ‘Szebb jövőt!’ (Brighter future!), used to make Jobbik gatherings stand out from other political party gatherings and gave them a recognisable choreography that represented familiarity to the party’s core supporters. It created a special bond between the totemic leader and his subjects, the audience. As a unified actor, the audience greeting their leader could feel a sense of direct contact with the leader as well as communality with other supporters. This call and response was a central ritual element marking belonging to the radical nationalist subculture and consequently drawing the borders of the in-group.

One very notable change in Jobbik’s gatherings during the period of deradicalisation was Vona’s conscious decision not to use the earlier Jobbik greeting at the beginning of his speeches. As a gesture of conciliation, the greeting was still used by some of the other Jobbik politicians during the 23 October, 2017 gathering, but by 15 March, 2018 in the midst of the parliamentary election campaign, this greeting that also used to be the official salute of the Magyar Gárda, was nowhere to be heard. The disappearance of this sacred ritual made the gatherings feel ritually empty. This was combined with symbolic emptiness, which followed from the removal of earlier radical nationalist symbols, such as the red and white striped Árpád flag, which used to be one of the strongest symbols related to Jobbik (Figure 10). By abandoning the common greeting and the Árpád flag, Jobbik as a party was stripped of its last ritual elements of radical nationalism.

In the October 2018 national day gathering, after the April 2018 elections and the failed summer gathering in August, Jobbik was desperately trying to appear to be a strong political actor despite turmoil within the party. Many people from the countryside were brought to the event and it seemed like the party had put on the emergency brake and were returning to parts of the old radical nationalistic repertoire. The Jobbik greeting was not used by the party leader, but instead it arose from the audience. ‘Adjon az Isten!’ was chanted by one of the supporters with many enthusiastically replying ‘Szebb jövőt!’ In autumn 2019, Mi Hazánk brought back this central element from previous Jobbik gatherings in a commemoration held for Miklós Horthy³ on Előd Novák’s initiative. Novák called Jobbik’s decision to stop using the greeting a disgrace (see Kiss, 2019).

My longitudinal visual ethnographic analysis reveals how Jobbik’s deradicalisation was manifested in the symbolic and ritual sphere, and eventually led to a complete transformation and disappearance of the network of symbols and rituals that used to form the essence of the party. Paradoxically stripping Jobbik of its radical symbolic and ritual elements made them more visible through their absence and provided an opportunity to analyse their role and importance for the party. Based on my empirical material, I argue that moving away from the radical-right happened primarily on the symbolic and ritual level, which at the same time marked a transition away from the radical nationalist subculture.

Jobbik’s moderation process can also be seen as an attempt to move from a narrow and exclusive understanding of nationhood towards a looser and more inclusive one. This process required freeing the party from the thick symbolic network (see Kotwas & Kubik, 2019), which consisted of radical nationalist and revisionist symbols, towards a thin symbolic network. This resulted in a less ideological understanding of Jobbik as a vaguely defined people’s party, without a clearly identifiable version of nationhood.

When Jobbik’s previous leader, Gábor Vona, decided to rid the party of its radical and xenophobic elements, the resistant power of nativism at the core of Jobbik’s ideological outlook became obvious. This led to a break between the radical nationalist subculture and the new more moderate populist right character of Jobbik. The fixed and nativist ideological contents at the core of ‘Jobbikian nationhood’, did not allow the coexistence of a more populist and moderate outlook free from the radical nationalist dogma, which could have been attractive to a wider electorate. Vona’s charisma and popularity made it possible to stretch the original ideological borders, but his resignation after the 2018 elections led to an instant split between the two incompatible factions within the party.

Jobbik had earlier relied heavily on the political emotions of fear and anger (see Collins, 2004), which were the main ‘emotional ingredients’ upon which its xenophobic, anti-Roma, and radical nationalist party ideology was built. This could be observed in the mood of the party gatherings, which relied on the presence of divisive symbolism and paramilitary organisations. Removing the symbolic and ritual elements, that were used as the building blocks for this radical ‘Jobbikian nationhood’, together with a more moderate rhetoric, led to a lack of enthusiasm and lacklustre attempts to raise the mood during the gatherings. The loss of the 2018 parliamentary elections was followed by a failed gathering that was unable to provide the remaining supporters with any emotional energy or sense of solidarity, the central outcomes of a successful ritual (see Collins, 2004).

Jobbik’s current more moderate and constructive approach to several central issues, such as the EU, the Roma, and the left, no longer supports simplified black and white distinctions that originally strengthened the radical nationalist identity of its supporters. The Hungarian example shows the importance of an emotionally appealing story about us and them which is created and maintained through the use of symbols and rituals. If there is no place left for the story and the connected myths, rational arguments are not enough to fill the vacuum created by the absence of common symbols and rituals.

The formation of Mi Hazánk, on the other hand, shows that the radical nationalist subculture did not actually disappear from the political stage, but only found a new home. The instant reappearance and flourishing of radical national symbols and related products from t-shirts to music, as well as the cooperation with paramilitary organisations, shows how the essence of the Hungarian radical right is largely about renewing radical nationalist rituals and symbols. This renewal ultimately serves the in-group’s dynamics and provides a strong source of nationalist identity that extends further than the limited confines of party politics. Therefore, the old Jobbik can also be seen as only one political manifestation of the radical nationalist subculture, which exists relatively independently from any party-political actor.

However, the split between Jobbik and the radical right subculture that surrounded it led to a weakening of both the party and the subculture, which shows that these types of alliances emerge as significant political actors only under specific circumstances. In the current situation, Jobbik is searching for a new identity while fighting to maintain at least part of its previous voter base, whereas the radical right nationalist subculture has returned to the margins. Simultaneously, the nationalism as well as the connected symbols and rituals that the ruling party Fidesz promotes have increasingly started to resemble the radical nationalism which Mi Hazánk currently represents and Jobbik formerly stood for. Consequently, there have been two simultaneous processes that have both marginalised and mainstreamed certain usages of radical nationalist symbols and rituals.

The case of Jobbik in Hungary shows that radical right parties whose roots are in the extreme right and radical nationalist subculture often cherish nativism as their ideological core (see Mudde, 2007). Symbols and rituals play a key role in maintaining and renewing this nativist ideology, identification, and solidarity. Populist politics and rhetoric seem to appear when the party wishes to expand and spread the radical right ideology. Gaining wider popularity, however, requires compromises in ideological purity and softening the message. As a result of this process, radical right parties can move rather far from their ideological roots and from core supporters devoted to nativist ideology.

The role of symbols and rituals for the Hungarian radical right is prominent. This can also be seen in some other European countries, such as Poland (Kotwas & Kubik, 2019) and Germany (Miller-Idriss, 2017a). However, the significance of symbols and rituals for radical right parties is not always as apparent as in Hungary. Therefore, more comparative research concerning the relevance of symbols and rituals to radical nationalist subcultures and radical right parties is needed.

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).