In a development that has sent the Foreign Office into a paroxysm of self-congratulation and left Whitehall mandarins scrambling for the nearest bottle of sparkling water, Budapest Pride has returned. The event, which for years cowered under the jackboot of Viktor Orban's illiberal democracy, is now sashaying down Andrassy utca with a rainbow flag in one hand and a middle finger in the other. Orban, you may recall, has fallen. His statue-toppling was swift, his exit undignified, and his legacy now resides in the dustbin of history alongside other failed strongmen and their peculiar moustaches.
Let us pause to savour the irony. Britain, a nation currently governed by a man whose idea of democratic values includes breaking international law with the insouciance of a toddler denying biscuit theft, has praised Hungary's 'triumph.' The Prime Minister's official spokesperson, a creature so carefully trained in the art of saying nothing at great length, declared: 'We welcome the restoration of democratic norms in Hungary. This is a victory for freedom, tolerance and the rule of law.' One imagines the words were delivered with a straight face, no small feat for a government whose own democratic norms resemble a game of three-card monte played on a sinking ship.
Let us not mince words. Budapest Pride's return is a glorious, defiant, technicolour middle finger to the forces of darkness. It is a parade that says, 'We are still here, we are still queer, and we will not be erased by a man in a cheap suit and a bad haircut.' The floats are gaudy. The music is loud. The face paint is smudged with tears of joy and cheap prosecco. It is wonderful. But let us also note the exquisite hypocrisy of the UK's position. This is the same government that has spent the last five years slowly dismantling the rights of trans people, that has allowed hate speech to fester on social media platforms it owns, and that has presided over an asylum system so cruel it would make a Victorian workhouse master blush.
What we are witnessing is not a triumph of values but a triumph of convenience. Britain praises Hungary because Hungary has become a useful geopolitical football, a cautionary tale to be deployed against the EU when it suits. The praise is less about Budapest Pride than about the chance to claim moral superiority over a country that, until recently, was a convenient bogeyman for Brexiteers who fancied themselves as rebels against a Brussels 'superstate.' Now that Orban is gone, the narrative shifts. Hungary is saved. Democracy is restored. Never mind that the Orbán era was fuelled in part by the same populist rhetoric that gave us Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage, and the lingering whiff of 2016.
But let us raise a glass to the real heroes of this story: the Hungarian LGBTQ+ community. They endured years of state-sanctioned bigotry, of referendums designed to marginalise them, of a government that used them as a punching bag to distract from its own corruption. They marched anyway. They held quiet picnics in defiance of bans. They built networks of solidarity in the shadows. They are the ones who deserve the praise, not the clapping seals in the British Parliament who voted through the Rwanda policy while wearing rainbow lanyards.
So here is my report from the edge of sanity. Budapest Pride is back. The drums are beating. The gin is flowing. But let us not mistake a single rainbow for a permanent sunrise. The forces of unreason are not defeated. They are regrouping. They will return, perhaps in a different country, perhaps under a different name. Until then, we march. We drink. We laugh in the face of the absurd. Because that, dear reader, is the only sane response to a world that keeps spinning its own parody.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of Hendrick's and the terrible poetry of a government press release.
