Is It Any Wonder We Are All Savages, Under an Elite Like This?

On the evening of August 19, state secretary István Kollai reportedly once again laid down the new guidelines of Hungary's funding policy:

Responding to a question from Transtelex – which pressed him on how meaningful dialogue and rapprochement could be imagined when, in previous years, it was precisely the RMDSZ's monopoly that was built out of Hungarian state funds, squeezing out independent civic and professional voices – Kollai replied that the use of the funds would be tied to strict new, transparent contractual guarantees. He stated that the institutions running on these grants must serve as open platforms for the full diversity of Transylvanian Hungarians, and that public money from Budapest may not be used by anyone for games of political exclusion.

Speaking about the funding schemes, István Kollai put it this way:

“We do not want to build ideological monopolies and feudal chains; we want the funds to reach real community needs. Wherever Hungarian public money is present, no one may squeeze anyone else out.”

This could hardly be more contradictory, given that the Hungarian establishment elite of Romania, which casts itself as independent and professional, in reality squeezes out, systematically and continuously, every bit of professionalism around itself, cooperates craftily with the power that holds the monopoly, and rewrites the past without anyone stopping it – and this last has its own logical reason.

Example 1. Tamás Kiss “in Ditró”.

The op-ed on Átlátszó Erdély

On 7 February 2020, two Cluj social researchers explained to the Hungarians of Transylvania, on Átlátszó Erdély, that what we were seeing around the two Sri Lankan bakers of Ditró “can safely be called what it is: racism”. By October 2025, the same duo was sitting in the Ditró community centre with a researcher of South American origin, talking about working-class discontent and about how it was the Romanian majority that had done the racism-calling. Between those two dates, it was not the people of Ditró who changed. The Ditró story illustrates how the party-adjacent research circle, funded from Hungarian and Romanian public money, actually works: it speaks up on every topic of the Transylvanian Hungarian public sphere, yet is never held accountable – and why it is no accident that it treats its own people as a “majority”, and makes other people's work invisible while feeding on it, all of this, on top of everything, without any impact whatsoever.

The Tamás Kiss – Tibor Toró duo managed to rewrite, retroactively and by 180 degrees, their own role in the Ditró affair as the public remembers it. Apparently the Hungarian elite of Romania finds this perfectly fine – this is how it is done. Around here one need not reflect on having perhaps been wrong, on thinking differently now, on having learned something from others, from strangers, God forbid from fellow citizens, especially if those are mere women; and absolutely nobody expects the Kiss–Toró duo to demonstrate that by now they actually understand their own new opinion.

7 February 2020: publication of the Kiss–Toró duo's long op-ed on Átlátszó Erdély. In its introduction, the text distances itself from the way, in their view, the Romanian media and the Romanian-Hungarian “enlightened” turn the people of Ditró into scapegoats. Then, in the rest of the text, the duo does precisely what they claim others have committed – for despite the introduction's promise, the piece does nothing else. The introduction thus does not soften the racism-calling but legitimises it: “All this, however, must not let us forget that the Ditró case is sadly symptomatic of the entire Transylvanian Hungarian community.” The xenophobia of Transylvanian Hungarians is higher than that of Romanians or of Hungarians in Hungary, and this “can safely be called what it is: racism”. The cause: a “consciousness of supremacy” lurking in the “deep layers” of Hungarian identity, which the Transylvanian Hungarian – no longer able to maintain it against the Romanians – “transposes” onto immigrants and Roma.

The published article is the voice of the Hungarian minority's social-research elite, and the “racism-calling” was carried out not by the Romanian media – which covered the affair in a largely neutral register, bringing in numerous perspectives of its own accord, much like the media in Hungary – but by the Romanian Hungarian minority's own elite, on its own community, in its own public sphere; and in this the Kiss–Toró duo played a central role, making the rounds of the media of every side, from the friendly Orbán through the friendly Soros to, later, the friendly Neptun, being permanent fixtures everywhere – on this occasion they even got to expound their nonsense at length in the Romanian media too.

It is an elementary professional error and a material gap in knowledge that these social researchers believe the attitude of Romania's Hungarians toward Roma and immigrants to be a majority reflex. Romania's Hungarians do have majority reflexes, but this is not one of them; it is typically a minority reflex (from the word “intersectionality” they may be able to derive part of the phenomenon, and if not, they should feel free to ask the female member of their current pseudo-movement, the “more-equals”), and this holds without exception for those minorities whose elite is itself ignorant of the regularities observable in this field. The Kiss–Toró duo should have paid closer attention to the professionals they stole from. Shall I name names?

I shall.

What is valid in small islands and half-sentences of the text published on Átlátszó Erdély – for instance that the language of minority protection must be anchored in the human-rights and anti-discrimination discourse – is not their invention, though they act as if it were. This had been said for years, and, crucially, also practised by CEMO of Târgu Mureș, led by Enikő Szigeti, at the grassroots level – yet the text does not acknowledge this with even half a word of reference. As for the “social dimension” of the Ditró events, as their own introduction admits, it was not they who brought it in – but they also fudge who did, ignoring the chronology entirely, so that it should look as if István Horváth's text – very weak, especially measured against his position, and very late – were adequate to conceal the establishment's nakedness: disregarding the minority perspective completely, they shouted racism at the top of their lungs, even in the very article in which they somehow also condemned doing so, until, tellingly, the journalists of the two majority nations (Bucharest, Budapest) at least brought in the social perspective. The party-man István Horváth's “analysis”, delivered as an interview in the party paper Maszol, reproaches the generic subject – on Maszol, of all places – that the Ditró case “blew up” in the media while other similar Romanian incidents did not, when it was precisely Maszol that had originally “blown up” the affair, in a manifestly inappropriate register. A fine example of talking about something while actually saying nothing. And “our own” could do nothing but keep shouting racism afterwards as well, for they cannot learn, only mimic – that being their role in the system, the role for which the RMDSZ selected them over long decades. For the minority that is easiest to steer is the one that has no real elite, no real press, and no adequate models of action from which to draw inspiration in everyday life.

It is likewise interesting that the duo behaves as if they were not integral members of that racism-shouting group of the Romanian Hungarian community's “enlightened” (intellectuals, metropolitans, progressives – as they themselves call it in their article). Moreover, the Ditró affair is special precisely because it was a member of that same “enlightened” Romanian Hungarian elite, Csilla Gyöngyösi, who wrote a text that was downright empathetic, relative to the ruling narrative, to the customary full-throated racism-shouting peer pressure, and to her own general stance – and she did so ten days before the Kiss–Toró op-ed and a mere two days after the escalation in Ditró; and it rather looks as if Gyöngyösi understood her own text somewhat better than the two master-tinkerers working in the profession. But then it seems that being a member of the inner circle counts for nothing if you are a woman, for the enlightened crowns of creation must not be preceded, and if you do precede them, you can expect no solidarity from the group's other “enlightened” members. Tellingly, from among the articles of the “restored” Plakátmagány column, Gyöngyösi's – oops – somehow “went missing”! Fortunately the Wayback Machine was kind enough to preserve it for us.

On 7 February 2020, then, beyond the theft, the duo was already denying the precedence of an entire crowd: they denied it to two journalistic societies (Romanian majority and Hungarian majority) which — starting, moreover, from the disadvantage of being Central-Eastern European — could not bring in any minority perspective at all, not even knowing such a thing existed (for who could have prepared them for it?) — and yet the majority journalists delivered the basics, presenting the unfolding Ditró story with relative objectivity and empathy, especially when measured against the way the Romanian Hungarian (“professional”! “minority-researcher”!) elite kneed itself in the groin over the affair.

The two pieces linked by the duo are also cunning choices: one belongs to the host where the article appears (making it less likely the editor would question the contradictions while typesetting the text), the other to the highly influential RMDSZ man István Horváth, who at the time was Tamás Kiss's boss at the ISPMN.

(The party-man István Horváth was succeeded in the velvet chair by the equally party-man Csaba Zoltán Novák, and it is likewise perfectly obvious that the party decided this, though a public institution is at stake. Csaba Zoltán Novák most recently drew attention to himself by speaking up in connection with Előd Novák's memorable Romanian-baiting episode, in which the latter vilely attacked Mária Gurzó. What the Transtelex press-worker failed to notice is that Csaba Zoltán Novák took the information – which he almost certainly received from Hungary through minority-affairs professional channels, since no one can seriously imagine Csaba Zoltán Novák watching the Hungarian parliament's live feed all day and spotting the notorious scene himself – and immediately deployed it for the RMDSZ's direct political gain. He claimed that the RMDSZ, too, frequently faces such attitudes in its work in Bucharest. The reality is, if anything, the opposite: curiously, something of this sort always happens exactly when popular anger needs to be diverted from an abuse that genuinely harms the Hungarian minority, towards the “real victims, real heroes”, so that the RMDSZ need not deal with the actual problem; and it simultaneously explains to the Hungarian public why they do nothing: “nothing can be done here, these people are ultranationalists.” For we know: in all creation there is no loser but the RMDSZ. What happens on such occasions, then, is that a Romanian MP or ministry official who has worked with the RMDSZ without friction for decades suddenly blurts some idiocy at an RMDSZ MP, preferably in front of another MP who will be sincerely outraged, thereby guaranteeing that it reaches the public. This crosses over into the Hungarian press, and the press that mostly stays silent about the real problems of the downtrodden suddenly becomes sensitive to the plight of the poor privileged, and pipes it from every tap. Then, once the danger has passed (read: the community has resigned itself to the latest trampling of its rights), the pseudo-topic subsides too, as if nothing had happened. Romanian Hungarian public life is the land of pseudo-scandals. And let us not imagine that our newly minted EEM freedom fighters no longer schmooze with their RMDSZ boss at the iconic “opposition” venue, the Planetarium – of course they do. Tamás Kiss and Tibor Toró appeared in a video defending the depoliticisation of scholarly life when the Hungarian academy was being dismantled, while tolerating two party-men above their own heads – and saying nothing at the changeover between the two either. This is exactly the opposition that is needed: one that confirms the perpetual governing party in its legitimacy. This is what we commonly call Putinism. Oh, and a recent story about Gergő Mostis, director of the Planetarium, and Balázs Gergely, director of the Kolozsvár Hungarian Days: it came to pass that Transtelex's Emese Vig hastily wrote an article whose central theme was one long-winded, whopping lie. Now, like the rest of the elite – untroubled by the chilling facts and their even more damaging distortion – Gergő Mostis stood up for the whopping lie, opening with the declaration that he would not play the part of the token opposition:

In the rest of his post he related that the Planetarium had for years been a partner of the likewise avowedly RMDSZ-run Kolozsvár Hungarian Days, until certain unnamed persons politely asked them to leave. Below the post appeared Balázs Gergely, director of the KMN, saying this was not true: the KMN had officially invited the Planetarium every year and could prove it from the KMN's official correspondence. Since the elite once again declined to pour clean water into the glass, it fell, for want of better, to Ugar to take steps: we wrote to both parties asking them to clarify their positions. From Balázs Gergely we asked to see the letters; from the Planetarium, to name who these persons were, whether it was said orally or in writing, and in the former case who witnessed it – and likewise for the correspondence. To this day we have received no reply to these letters from either side; according to our information, however, the two parties talked the matter over on Sunday morning, which the absence of replies independently corroborates as fact. So this is where we stand:

• for the KMN's “provable at any time” claim there is no document,

• for the Planetarium's “we were shown the door” claim there is nothing either – not even a reply from the man who so valiantly declared he would not play token opposition.

So that is how stating facts and “real” oppositioning are done in Kolozsvár – and it is into this milieu that the new nation policy arrives, straight to their door.)

Returning from this inner detour to the ISPMN: the ISPMN is the public institution whose Hungarian name reads “National Minority Research Institute” – in mirror translation, more interestingly: “Institute for Researching the Problems of National Minorities”. And yet Kiss – who, on top of it all, researched the bilingualism of public institutions, from Romanian and Hungarian public money – does not even have his own CV up in Hungarian on the institute's “bilingual, nay, ever-so-many-lingual” website – and the quotation marks here are anything but accidental. It does appear, though, that this year they published a book in two languages:

That is: in Romanian and English... by three Hungarian authors. Novák is satisfied with both form and content; nothing to see here.

Ugh. We digressed from the op-ed originally published on Átlátszó Erdély; let us return. The reference to the former ISPMN chief's belated, weak piece of course obscures the true pioneers – for example the article published on azonnali.hu, which on January 30 brought in more interpretive angles than all subsequent pronouncements combined have to this day: that there was a real problem with the bakery and with the region; that the Romanian state says thank you for the billions remitted home but would sooner replace its citizens living abroad than bring them home; and that with the law and the forces of order fully on the other side, the locals had no instrument left but outrage. February 1: Index's on-site report on the “conflict under the ashes”: three thousand terminated work contracts, unpaid overtime, people registered below full-time; the gist of what was said at the village assembly was “value the local workforce”. The Romanian-language Radio Free Europe article of February 3. All of these, at the least, precede the two pieces the duo linked, which were published on February 4.

Concerning the Azonnali article it deserves special mention that it was written by a Transylvanian Hungarian, Előd Gellért Gergely. The sheer multitude of the article's perspectives is itself a crying anomaly compared with all the rest, as is the fact that it responds not to the Romanian media's alleged reflexive racism-calling but precisely counters our own elite's attitude as experienced in the other affairs too. Such anomalies signal the systematic silencing that the all-sided Romanian Hungarian establishment elite, acting in concert, carries out against its own people – the essence of which is that intelligence is pushed to the margins and then quietly evaporates, while in the centre they play-act public life and debate. It is also natural, however, that precisely because of the systematic silencing, signals of this kind remain sporadic – indeed, ever rarer – which, for a minority shrinking at so alarming a rate relative to its numbers, is fatal.

The interview in Krónika

A week after the Átlátszó op-ed, Krónika – which was also following the affair closely – interviewed Tibor Toró. Two days before the interview, on February 12, they had run the news, for example, that the bakery's owner objected, in an interview given to the Romanian state agency, that in solidly Hungarian Ditró the petition had been drafted in Hungarian – addressed, moreover, to Hungarian recipients (though in the lead, for some reason, they softened what had actually happened with an “also”):

Regarding the petition having been published in Hungarian, the company's representative remarked to the Romanian state news agency: “still, we live in Romania”, then said that the bakery would draft its official reply in Romanian, and would also have it translated into Hungarian “so that everyone understands”.

This passage appeared in identical form in the Romanian media as well. The bakery's owner is visibly attempting to use the universally accepted, taken-for-granted subordinate status of the Hungarian language to purchase the greatest possible sympathy in the Romanian media – even at the price of making it more subordinate still. (There is, incidentally, no trace in the articles of this having succeeded.)

Now, against this background, the same Tibor Toró who in 2025 – but really ever since 7 and 14 February 2020 – has been putting it about that he was the one representing the minority viewpoint from the start, does not set right even this linguistic-rights aspect during the interview – and the reason is emphatically not that he once again failed to recognise this minority–majority dynamic, heaven forbid! No, it was surely that he had no time for it, having to repeat all the racism-calling he had already committed in tandem on Átlátszó Erdély. For Krónika, being an Orbánist paper, cannot cite or review the Átlátszó Erdély article – what are you thinking? – so instead it slavishly, thought by thought, poses the prompt-questions of the claims already made on Átlátszó Erdély, and thus two identical racism-calling articles are born. The reader may wonder that all this happens in an Orbánist newspaper – but then a hefty share of the Hungarian public funds provided by Fidesz to the Pro Economica foundation (that is, to the RMDSZ) – 2.95 billion forints – later went to the very Ditró Bakery that demanded the petition in Romanian, according to Transtelex's tally, of which the bakery was the largest beneficiary. And just as in Hungary Fidesz never took its great anti-migrant crusade seriously where the regime's favourites were concerned, neither did it in Transylvania. It was all just talk.

The interview on Transindex

The November 2020 Transindex interview with Tamás Kiss contains yet another hefty lie, with which Kiss once more rewrites his earlier role – and again no one protests, neither on the spot nor afterwards. As if everyone were rooting for everything to become as muddled as possible. Interestingly, by 2025 he does not continue this newly introduced line either – nor, of course, does he reflect on that. In fuller context it is even more outrageous, but the essence is that he says this:

The two of them argued along rather similar lines: both interpreted the events as a labour and class conflict.

We, by contrast, interpreted the xenophobia of Transylvanian Hungarians much more within a cultural frame. Obviously the Ditró case had a labour aspect. But alongside that, the appearance of the Sri Lankan guest workers (and more broadly the post-2015 political campaign around immigration) activated culturally very deeply embedded fears and ideological elements connected to the community's survival. And the labour-law frame was, after a while, taken up by the Hungarian elites in order to somehow switch off the “racism-calling” interpretive frame in the Romanian public sphere.

Not true. As can be seen, there is no trace of this either on Átlátszó Erdély or in the long articles published in Krónika. This angle, introduced by the Azonnali article, is what the Kiss–Toró duo would later pinch, without attribution – and in November 2020 why on earth would we protest against the brazen theft, if we had not done so back in February either, right?

It is all the funnier that by 2025 they forget this thread as well, unconcerned by how many times those without a voice are outraged at their unethical moves – for those with a voice are never outraged; quite the contrary.

The descent on Ditró

Let us turn, then, to the latest about-face. On 3 October 2025, the Hungarian-language programme of Romanian state television, Magyaradás, filmed in Ditró:

The sad story can be reconstructed from what is said. Luis Escobedo, a minority-research professional of Peruvian origin living in Bucharest, happened to be doing research in South Africa when he heard about the case from Tamás Kiss, who was there for a conference. Since even from the far side of the world he could see that something was not quite right here, he decided it had to be looked at. The “radically new” thing is that he treats Transylvanian Hungarians as a minority from a position that “our own” can no longer circumvent (he is a man, he has connections, and furthermore he is not a Transylvanian Hungarian but a scholar embedded in the Romanian majority), so they had no choice but to cooperate with him. Escobedo presumably did not examine too closely the Hungarian minority public sphere – and within it the role and register of Kiss and company in the Ditró affair – or else did not see in time that the Hungarian “professionals” he works with are incapable of self-reflection, and towards the community present themselves as if they had always known, always represented, what in October 2025 they were forced to accept from him. It is, incidentally, Escobedo's position that explains why they could not pinch his ideas outright.

A small thing, but it can be caught in the act right at the start of the video: Kiss does not give credit that the whole thing was originally Escobedo's idea, speaking instead in the first person plural: “we thought”. Whereas Escobedo says he wanted to see them on site, wanted to talk with the people of Ditró, Kiss says: “[so that the people of Ditró] should receive some point of reference about what happened in the village back then”. An entirely different attitude – and alongside his sincere curiosity, Escobedo does not fall out of his role, does not posture as one who now also “gives”, when it suits – for then he would defeat his own purpose and zero out their work so far, since it may easily happen that some of the locals will watch what he says into the camera, and will feel: don't you tell me what happened here, you have no idea.

Naturally, no credit goes to Csilla Gyöngyösi either, the first to speak of communal trauma in connection with Ditró (the whole programme and project being titled “Memory of Traumas”, for which the Toró–Kiss duo of course again received public money – this time, as it happens, Romanian – and the boys essentially executed the programme Gyöngyösi had envisioned). Why indeed would she receive credit now, when she received none for the very same thing fresh in 2020? The Toró–Kiss house “institute”, by the way, has also received operating money from Hungary every year, so this project too was financed by the taxpayers of several states. The programme also includes the making of a film about an ethnic conflict set in Ditró in 1990 – and this is not their only successful “film” grant on a Roma theme.

In Roma matters, alas, this group is every bit as lacking in credibility, since they lend legitimacy to a pseudo-activist repeatedly caught in novelistic lying about Roma affairs, and then shrug like veritable Cambridge professors, since nothing under the sun interests them. The reason for this indifference to obvious fraud is that the entire Transylvanian Hungarian elite cheats continuously; as long as the others cheat too, there is safety in numbers – they are invested in the maintenance of the frauds. Theft and lying do not trouble this milieu; everyone does the same, and it is common knowledge. Look, for instance, at these two articles side by side: Schmitt Pali would turn yellow with envy. This is no longer Jason Arday's level – this is the absolute itself. A colourful cavalcade and camouflage arsenal of wondrous solutions parades past with great fanfare, all in the sacred and lofty cause of stealing someone else's work 100% without the slightest indication that you added not so much as half a bit of information to it. (I note there is no point swapping out the text now, for I have just re-saved it to the Wayback Machine.)

Likewise interesting, from the Roma-champion angle, is that the “oppositional” freedom fighter Tamás Kiss confesses that it was not enough for him that the RMDSZ has for 26 years now held the Hungarian population of Romania in a dictatorial, competition-free political trap: he wanted the Hungarian-speaking Roma to be as deep inside that system as possible too – lest at least they should have a chance at a normal political environment later on – and to that end he concluded a secret pact with the RMDSZ's top leadership; and he also explains that this would have been worth it to the RMDSZ because the steady decline of the Hungarian minority's share of the population – a consequence of the RMDSZ's own policies – could thus have been offset, with impunity, by the votes of another minority, reaching the “normal” 5% parliamentary threshold in a relatively durable way. Nor would Kiss have been troubled that this traps two ethnic groups living in the same territory, and that it would, naturally and systemically, play off against each other – incite against each other – those members of the two groups who would wish to escape the trap. Yet in the very same article he reproached the mayors of Szeklerland for playing the two ethnic groups off against each other.

But back to the Ditró Magyaradás:

Kiss says there was, on the one hand, that discourse on the part of the Romanian media which absolutises the economic usefulness of immigrants and the interests of companies. This is not true; multiple perspectives appeared.

It is Kiss himself who admits – without noticing that this passes judgement on the community's elite and its earlier shoddy work – that “people have practically been unable to move past this thing”; the point being that, with a little South African detour, after three years he finally made it to Ditró, having already talked about it so much. – “[for the people of Ditró] there is no normal frame of any kind in which one could even interpret what happened” – again, not my words but Kiss's, and he evidently failed to notice that he was thereby passing judgement on his own influential circles. And yet they thought of nothing but “interpretive frames” – and still ended up where the bank collapses.

It is excellent that the school principal, a native Romanian speaker, gave her opinion in Hungarian on the programme. This carries a significance beyond her person – though I doubt the message penetrated the skull of Toró, who was lounging about on location, such that next time he might notice the machination around the prestige of the language – unlike during the Krónika interview – even though the Kiss–Toró duo has received a heap of Romanian and Hungarian public money over the past decade for “researching” Hungarian minority language use.

The slides popping up in the report and the photographs are also telling. On one of them, for instance, what is counted up is hundreds of Facebook posts casting the Hungarian minority in an unfavourable light – not articles in the Romanian media, since those would not deliver the numbers. Yet it is discussed as though they did.

“perspectiva culturalistă”, “o zonă socioculturală foarte specifică” – these too are said by Escobedo when, following Zsófia Köllő's question, the two researchers are asked to name what, after all, the Ditró incident should be called. Only Escobedo recalls Kiss's November 2020 narrative; Kiss himself does not – for, as it turned out, that idea was not his own. He says instead: “the first anti-immigration mobilisation in Romania” + “a working-class element” + plain fear of replacement, but staying in the social dimension + Orbán-induced racism (here, for the first time in the video, the thing is named beyond which they could speak of nothing at all in February 2020). And observe this gem as he winds up his message – this ever-more-floating text also being the closing of the video:

One could have spoken of the self-organisation of the local working class, but unfortunately the racist interpretation here had much more readily prefabricated frames, into which people were already sliding back then; and this alternative, working-class-focused interpretive frame could, partly for that reason, not be sustained.

An army of psychologists is wanted here – though his predicament is somewhat understandable.

He must speak in such a way that his unreflected shift away from the utterly different discourse of February 2020 can be held against him as little as possible, while his discourse of that day should also remain valid – namely that no one besides them ought to have shouted racism – and so the sentence becomes this poetic, this meta: as if the people of Ditró had been dilemmatising in real time in the Facebook group according to the intelligentsia's after-the-fact interpretations, as if they had been pacing to and fro – can we stay here, folks, can we sustain this working-class interpretive frame – hold it, Béla, hold it hard while I quickly step out for a leak – or shall we move over instead into the prefabricated frames, since those are ready-made? Oh, damn it – we've slid right in!

One feels a proper urge to help him and tell him where the way out might be – but that would only ensure that Tamás Kiss would perform, about that offered exit too, that he alone had always known it, that he had said it long ago, but oh, the Romanians, the progressives, the Orbáns and the urbanites and everyone else! And then, of course, he would get lost again on account of it.

There is one more slide in the presented lecture, which asks who could speak up at all at the time of the incident. On it are the heads of Dan Tăpălagă and Béla Markó. True, Markó did say terrific nonsense back then too (with exactly the same self-contradictions as Toró and Kiss): the gist being roughly that the people of Ditró must not be looked down upon, but that he had always been the good guy, and that he carries onward the flame, the truth and the spirit of Áron Márton, and so on and so forth. Toró and Kiss do not figure on the slide – although, as we said, they are the ones who, after the incident, got to appear, entirely undeservedly, not only in the Hungarian media of every side but in the Romanian media as well, talking nonsense there too, naturally. Even a quick scroll through Dan Tăpălagă's text shows that it contains nowhere near the quantity of nonsense found in the texts of the minority-trade professionals who have lived off this for 25 years – and who are, on top of it, ethnic Hungarians themselves; that is the benchmark against which their cluelessness must be measured. Moreover, Tăpălagă's opinion has not spun with the wind over the years, least of all without self-reflection, casting himself as one who had always been at war with Oceania; he knew exactly as much about minority perspectives a year ago as six years ago – frankly not much, but still more than the pseudo-professionals of the Hungarian minority, who pinch everything in haste, only worsen every cause, and dupe and fleece every sucker who comes from afar.