Hongrie: un antisémite invétéré nommé ambassadeur à Rome

Dans le registre des bonnes nouvelles...  La Hongrie vient de nommer ambassadeur à Rome un antisémite enragé, le poète et ancien communiste Péter Szentmihályi Szabó. Pour le nouvel ambassadeur les Juifs sont des "agents de Satan".  En 2004 il donnait sa vision des Juifs (le texte complet figure à la fin du post):  

Tibor Navracsics, ministre des Affaires étrngères, et Péter Szentmihályi Szabó.

"Il n'est pas difficile de les reconnaître parce qu'ils sont lâches et impertinents. L'argent est leur Dieu et leur langue maternelle.  Ils font confiance à l'argent depuis des temps immémoriaux. Les cernes sous les yeux, la peau flasque, les mains moites, les pieds froids, des sourires douteux font partie de leurs caractéristiques. On les trouve partout sur terre. Ils sont les agents de Satan. Ils suscitent la peur et vivent de la peur. Ils créent l'agitation et la discorde. Leurs valises sont toujours prêtes mais ne déguerpissent jamais. [...] Pharisiens hypocrites,  agents de Satan. Ils sont dans tous les partis, dans toutes les églises, dans toutes les communautés. Ils sont prêts à toutes les trahisons, car ils sont vides. Ils n'ont aucun Dieu, aucune nation, aucun peuple, aucune patrie, aucune vision du monde, seuls les comptes bancaires comptent pour eux. Ils n'ont même pas de vraies familles, rien que des familles transitoires. Leurs familles sont remplaçables. Ils utilisent tout, mais rien n'est à eux. [...] Ces agents de Satan sont des adeptes de la mondialisation; ils ne sont attachés ni à leurs noms, à leurs entreprises, ni à leur propre patrie. Ils n'ont qu'un attachement: leurs comptes bancaires. Ils sont nés traîtres parce qu'ils n'ont jamais eu leur propre pays. Ils sont dans toutes les stations de radio et de télévision où ils mugissent entre eux d'une voix nasillarde et mielleuse en roulant leurs r. Ils se nourrissent de leurs craintes. Ce sont des inquiets professionnels. Ils sont internationalistes et cosmopolites. Fidèles amis de Marx, Engels, Lénine, Staline, Lukács, et György Aczél. [...] [1] Ils pensent que tout le monde peut être acheté, parce qu'ils peuvent eux-mêmes être achetés, au kilo. Ils sont avides, envieux, mauvais et laids. Le visage et le miroir de l'âme, mais leur miroir est un terni. Ils sont sans pitié. Leurs âmes sont condamnées sans espoir de résurrection. Il est probable que Satan envoie de tels agents dans toutes les nations, qui deviennent non seulement leur proie, et à qui ils font la leçon comme s'il s'agissait d'animaux domestiques primitifs et stupides. L'enfer attend leur retour."  

Un vrai poète.  Sa nomination intervient en 2014 - année de la commémoration de l'Holocauste en Hongrie...  Un pur hasard.

A raging antisemite will be Hungary’s ambassador to Rome @ Hungarian Spectrum (via Harry's Place)

Late Sunday night the media learned that Péter Szentmihályi Szabó, a mediocre poet and political commentator of the far right, will be Hungary’s next ambassador to Rome. Two opposition parties, Democratic Coalition and Együtt-PM, immediately protested against the appointment, pointing out that over the last two decades the nominee has been publishing in such far-right papers as István Csurka’s Magyar Fórum, Kárpátia, and Nemzetőr. Currently, he has a regular column in the far-right Magyar Hírlap and is also a regular on Echo TV, another far-right organ. 


There were commentators whose “breath was taken away” when they heard the news of Szentmihályi Szabó’s imminent ambassadorial appointment. A blogger expressed himself more strongly: “Viktor Orbán happened to appoint a rat to be ambassador to Rome.” One thing is sure: Szentmihályi Szabó is an inveterate anti-Semite. Pure and simple. So, it is a rather ironic Orbánite gesture to appoint such a man to an important post in the Memorial Year of the Holocaust.. I could hopscotch from article to article penned by this man, but perhaps it would be more useful to translate one of his memorable pieces that appeared in Magyar Fórum on December 14, 2000. Meet Viktor Orbán’s choice for ambassador to Italy.

Péter Szentmihályi Szabó : The Agents of Satan

I don’t know, I don’t understand why they hate us so much. They live here in Hungary, they speak and write in Hungarian, but they loathe us. I really don’t understand why they stay if it is that bad here, in this welcoming country that is so foolishly patient. It is not difficult to recognize them because they are cowardly and impertinent at the same time. Money is their God, their mother tongue in which they have trusted from time immemorial. Dark circles under their eyes, flabby skin, clammy palms, cold feet, freakish smiles give them away. They can be found everywhere on the earth. They are the agents of Satan. They arouse fear and they live off of fear. They create turmoil and discord. They are constantly packing, yet they don’t leave. Are they foreign spirits whose mission is to destroy the local communities? International criminals who, following Marx and Lenin, decided to enslave mankind? Eternally homeless folk condemned to be constant wanderers? They are the debt collectors. The ones who first figured out that money “works” without labor although there are no goods behind the merchandise, only a piece of metal, a piece of paper, or by now only a digital symbol on the computer. Everybody is afraid of them, yet they dread those who fear them. The world’s strongest army guards their security, and yet they still don’t dare to get close to those whose rights they defend so loudly.

Pharisees, hypocrites, agents of Satan. They are in every party, in every church, in every community. They are ready for every betrayal because they are empty. They have no God, no nation, no people, no homeland, no Weltanschauung, only bank accounts. They don’t even have families, only temporarily. Their families are replaceable. They use everything, but nothing is theirs. And they clearly realize that. I am listening to the naive official statements about the forthcoming law on Hungarians living in the neighboring countries. One can hear the mistaken centuries-old notion being repeated: “a Hungarian is one who considers himself to be a Hungarian.” Oh my Lord, any member of any reasonably cultured nation would have a hearty laugh hearing this! Is someone who calls himself an Englishman, a Frenchman, a German, an American actually an Englishman, a Frenchman, a German or an American? In that case, our Roma in Strasbourg would have abandoned us a long time ago…. The agents of Satan are the devotees of globalism; they are not attached to their names, to their firms, to their own homeland. They have no attachment, only bank accounts. They are born traitors because they have never had their own country. They are in every radio and television station where they bray among themselves speaking in a nasal sing-song way and slimily blurring their r’s. They live off their fears. They are professional worriers. They are internationalists and cosmopolitans. Faithful friends of Marx, Engels, Lenin, Stalin, Lukács, and György Aczél.

Descendants of Rákosi, the jailers of the “guilty” Hungarian nation. Members of the State Security forces, members of detachments, worker guardists. Approximately 200,000 people who call themselves Hungarian who have not cleared out of the country yet because after 1989 they realized that the stupid Hungarian people don’t harbor vengefulness. The two million former unskilled laborers understand only the demagoguery of MSZP and SZDSZ. Viktor Orbán is the same target as József Antall or Péter Boross, or for that matter István Csurka were.  The agents of Satan play games with us and have a grand time at it. They slap us in the face and call us to account that we, in an intolerant and very unchristian-like manner, don’t turn the other cheek. They are the ones who are most indignant when somebody tries to put an end to the greedy acquisition of Hungarian real estate by foreigners; they are the ones for whom abortion and drugs are human rights. They have more than one passport, preferably the kind that has no extradition treaty with Hungary–security foremost. They live in castles, they have servants, but they are great friends of the homeless, the Roma, the needy. From a distance and only in words. If they see some gain in getting involved with Hungarian issues, like, for example the millennial celebrations, then they reluctantly join in. They think everybody can be bought, because they themselves can be, always by the kilo. They are greedy, envious, evil–and ugly. Countenance is the mirror of the soul, but their mirror is a tarnished one. They are callous. Condemned souls for whom there is no resurrection. It is likely that Satan bestows such agents on all nations, ones who not only prey on them but also lecture the nations as if they were stupid primitive domestic animals. Hell is waiting for their return.

[1] Comme le fait remarquer Karl Pfeiffer dans un commentaire sur Harry's Place ce contempteur du communiste, fut un ardent communiste à la gloire duquel il composa ce poème-prière édifiant en 1977:

Szentmihályi Szabó Péter’s original poem.Obviously he created this literary gem prior to accusing the Jews being the “International criminals who, following Marx and Lenin”. The later was written in 2000, but in 1977 he was praying for communism which he called “my pure love”. (No kidding he bet on Orban!) pure translation that followed all the punctuations, and words

Szentmihályi Szabó Péter (Hungary’s Italian Ambassador’s poem from 1977)

Raw prayer to Communism
Where are you idling, Communism
my happiness, my pure love?
Our happiness, our pure love.
The cart of abundance! The table of the law!
The spiritual light!
Eat, drink, hug, sleep
Measure yourself with the infinite!
Instead of exclamation marks
question marks falling on us,
I known it is not urgent.
Just like the apocalypse, only
to the prophets:
your unrealisation
does not cause sorrow to many.
Where are you idling communism?
The productive forces, the relations of productions,
rattling machines,
and the conscience… subconscious
the state does not want to fade away.
Where are you idling communism?
Spring follows Spring,
my children-eyes blink old;
communism, you, promised,
strain your every muscles,
shake off the parasites.
Communism, grow, my little child.