Debreczeni's book is an account of the illegal activities of prime minister Viktor Orbán's closest associates and provides critical background for understanding the current functioning of the mafia state. Debreczeni combed through the findings of two decades of Hungarian investigative journalism, which unearthed some of the shady dealings of the Fidesz empire.
How was this achieved? Most likely, at least in part, through blackmail. The highly respected chief prosecutor, Kálmán Györgyi (1990-2000), after having a conversation with János Áder, in those days president of the Hungarian parliament, suddenly resigned in March 2000 although his tenure expired only in 2002. The Fidesz government thus had a free hand to nominate a man, Péter Polt, a Fidesz party member and an older friend from the early 90s, who in the following years became the incarnation of the Chinese wall between justice and the thoroughly corrupt Fidesz leaders, including Viktor Orbán.
From the earliest days of Fidesz, only a handful of people–Viktor Orbán, László Kövér, Lajos Simicska, and Tamás Varga–dealt with financial matters. Of these four only Tamás Varga ended up in jail.
Once Fidesz became a parliamentary party and thus received a certain amount of money from the central budget, it became patently obvious that "the boys" had little notion of or even inclination toward keeping their finances in order. The party's steering committee eventually became curious about what was going on with the money at the disposal of the parliamentary delegation. The members who were supposed to take a look at the books were faced with assorted slips of paper stuffed into plastic bags. Bookkeeping Fidesz style, I guess. After some scrutiny, it was determined that there were serious questions about how the money had been spent. The committee entrusted with checking the nonexistent books came to the conclusion that "responsibility for the party's financial disarray should be the subject of a criminal investigation."
In the end nothing happened because Viktor Orbán convinced the party membership that the report was the work of people who wanted to ruin the party. He asked for, and received, their vote of confidence. At the same time he threatened members of the steering committee with legal action.
Viktor Orbán survived this early investigation as he has survived all subsequent ones as well. The few million forints spent on who knows what at the launch of Fidesz were peanuts in comparison to the close to 700 million forints Fidesz received in September 1992 as a result of the sale of a very valuable building in downtown Budapest. The building was given to MDF and Fidesz by the Hungarian state. The two parties had every right to sell the building and use the proceeds to cover their own expenses. That was not the problem. The problem lay with where the money went.
Out of the 700 million, Simicska, who by then was in charge of the party's finances, immediately transferred 574 million forints to FICO Kft., which had acted as a Fidesz foundation since 1990. For two years there was little movement of money in or out of FICO, but in 1992-93 everything changed. Simicska began establishing assorted businesses: Quality Invest Rt., Millennium Rt., Quality Party Service Kft., Terra Negra Ingatlanértékesítő és Hasznosító Bt., Quality Profit Kft, Taxorg Kft., Best Lízing Kft., Auto Classic Kft., etc. Moreover, as it turned out, a few million forints also ended up in the hands of Viktor Orbán's father who didn't have enough money to buy the state stone quarry he had managed during the Kádár years.
These were not Fidesz owned companies. They were owned by a network of old friends around Viktor Orbán and László Kövér: Lajos Simicska and Tamás Varga were old high school friends; Szilárd Kövér was László's younger brother; Zsuzsanna Pusztai, Simicska's wife; Sándor Varga, father of Tamás; István Bakos, Szilárd Kövér's brother-in-law; Gyula Gansperger, high school friend; Katalin Horváth, Gansperger's wife, and so on. So, the state property became party property and then the party property became private property. Surely, the argument goes, Simicska must have convinced Orbán and Kövér that these companies would ensure Fidesz's financial well-being, which at this juncture looked as if it would win the 1994 election.
What happened to the money that ended up in these private companies? Very little is known of its fate. We know that after a while these companies did not pay taxes, VAT, or social security. Eventually they were sold, twenty-two of them on the same day, allegedly to a Turkish guest worker in Germany, Ibrahim Kaya, and a Croatian called Josip Tot. They, of course, were not the real buyers. As it turned out, the passports belonging to these two men had been stolen, and allegedly they knew nothing of the transaction. Of course, the companies that went bankrupt and were sold for pennies to unknown individuals had also taken out substantial bank loans, on which the banks were unable to collect.
All this came to light in 1999 when two investigative journalists unraveled the complicated story in Élet és Irodalom. Unfortunately, it was too late. By that time Viktor Orbán was prime minister of Hungary. Immediately after the formation of his government he made Lajos Simicska head of APEH (Adó- és Pénzügyi Ellenőrzési Hivatal), the Hungarian equivalent of the U.S. Internal Revenue Service. All documentation on these companies disappeared from the computers of APEH. After all, Simicska was put there for the sole purpose of covering the tracks of their illegal financial activities. Simicska stayed at the head of APEH only as long as was necessary to accomplish his task. A few months later, in the summer of 1999, claiming that attacks on his person ruined his health and caused his father's death, Simicska resigned. By that time, the APEH files were most likely clean as a whistle. When later during the socialist-liberal period a government commissioner wanted to reopen the case, Péter Polt, the chief prosecutor, blocked his way.
According to an article that appeared in Magyar Narancs in 1999, at least 60 Fidesz-related companies were established between 1990 and 1998. Simicska's name appeared on 24, of which 14 were "purchased" by Ibrahim Kaya and Josip Tot.
After reading the details of the relationship between Orbán and Simicska, some people came to the conclusion that Orbán had been dragged into the morass of financial wrongdoing concocted by Simicska. He was in so deep that he was unable to extricate himself without landing in jail. He was the good guy under the thumb of the bad Simicska. But, as Debreczeni sums it up: "At the beginning one could perhaps think that Fidesz was led by a democratic Dr. Jekyll and a mafioso Mr. Hyde, but in the end it turned out that in reality a politician Hyde and a financier Hyde ruled the party, and by now, rule the country."
For the campaign Fidesz needed money. Lots of money. Enter Gábor Princz, chairman of Postabank, which was a state-run bank. The name of the bank accurately reflected its structure. Its branches operated at post offices and thus could reach a wide clientele. Princz ran the bank in a totally irresponsible manner and handsomely paid politicians on both sides for expected favors. He was also very generous when it came to support of the media and organizations connected to culture. Eventually, Postabank went bankrupt, but before that happened Princz used his bank's assets to support Fidesz's election campaign. Gábor Kuncze, chairman of the liberal SZDSZ, calculated that Postabank lent and/or gave 800 million forints to Fidesz. Since a few months later there was no Postabank, it is unlikely that Fidesz ever had to pay this money back.
If Princz thought that his generosity toward Fidesz would save him, he was wrong. One of the very first moves of the Orbán government was to remove him from his post as head of the bank. Princz moved to Austria for a while where he felt a great deal safer. Meanwhile, the government began to take care of the immense debts that Postbank had managed to accumulate. Eventually, they calculated the amount of money which according to their experts was needed to put things in order: 152 billion forints. Naturally, Princz himself doubted this figure, which was not surprising. But even people like Imre Tarafás, at the time head of the Állami Pénz- és Tőkepiaci Felügyelet, the organization that supervised bank and monetary transactions, in his report for the year 1999 claimed that the government spent far too much money trying to straighten out Postabank's accounts. Tarafás was asked by Orbán to resign. When he declined, the government created a new office with a similar mandate and abolished Tarafás's organization. Tarafás was not the only one who had doubts about the financial needs of Postabank. In 2006 it came to light that at the time KEHI, the government financial supervisory body, also noticed several very shady real estate deals in connection with the consolidation of Postabank. However, István Stumpf, head of the prime minister's office, suspended any further probe into the matter. But it looks as if about 50 billion forints disappeared in the process of cleaning up the books of Postabank.
Once Fidesz won the election Viktor Orbán began building his political and financial power base. Corruption now became systemic and centralized. The Fidesz government established a number of entities that siphoned large sums of money from the public coffers. First, they set up something called Országimázs Központ (Country Image Center) whose duty it was to conduct a propaganda campaign lauding the outstanding performance of the country under Fidesz leadership. The man in charge was István Stumpf. This body handed out large contracts to two business ventures, Happy End Kft. and Ezüsthajó Kft. (Silver Ship), to stage large state events. One must keep in mind that the new millennium and the Hungarian Kingdom's 1,000-year anniversary gave plenty of opportunity for lavish celebrations. Just the New Year's Eve extravaganza, which by the way was a flop, cost, at least on paper, 3.75 billion forints. Several more billions were spent on celebrations all across the country, including the smallest villages, during the Hungarian millennium year. It seems that altogether the Országimázs Központ spent almost 13 billion forints on such events, and more than 90% of that amount was received by Happy End and Ezüsthajó.
It would be too long to list all the phony overpaid providers who were naturally members of the Fidesz inner circle or at least people with close connections to Fidesz. It is almost certain that some of the money paid out to these firms ended up in Fidesz coffers handled by Lajos Simicska.
The really big corruption cases, however, were connected to government investments, especially highway construction. Here the key organization was a state investment bank called Magyar Fejlesztési Bank (MFB, Hungarian Development Bank). The bank was supposed to give out loans for promising business ventures.
When Lajos Simicska left APEH, he got a job at this state investment bank and came up with a fiendishly clever scheme. Road construction was not handled directly by the government but by a company called Nemzeti Autópálya Rt., which was created by MFB specifically for this purpose. The beauty of the arrangement was that the rules and regulations that applied to projects financed by public money were not applicable here. For example, no competitive bidding was necessary. The next step was to designate a company to be the beneficiary of government orders. The chosen company was a leftover from the Kádár years called Vegyépszer. The name is typical of the many state companies that existed in the socialist period. But the name of this company indicates that it didn't have anything to do with construction. Judging from its name, once upon a time it had something to do with chemicals. But that really didn't matter because it wasn't Vegyépszer that was going to do the work but hired subcontractors. Suddenly Vegyépszer received orders to the tune of 600 billion forints. From nothing it became as important a company between 1998 and 2002 as Lajos Simicska's Közgép is today. I might add that Vegyépszer went bankrupt last year.
The question is how much of that money was returned to Fidesz. After the defeat of Fidesz in 2002, an old high school friend of Orbán, Simicska, and Varga told Debreczeni that the reason for Orbán's electoral defeat was that "the boys were not satisfied with the customary 10%, they wanted 20% of everything."
Of course, this is a very brief summary of exceedingly complicated financial transactions. I suggest that those who know Hungarian read the book. It is full of details about the functioning of MFB, which acted as a never ending source of government funds and also was involved in selling state properties to friends of Fidesz politicians under highly questionable circumstances. Some of the beneficiaries of these unsavory deals involving large state farms are still members of Viktor Orbán's inner circle: Sándor Csányi, István Töröcskei, Zsolt Nyerges, and, yes, Lajos Simicska.
As for Fidesz's current favorite company, Közgép, which gets almost 100% of government investments financed by the European Union, it belongs to Lajos Simicska himself. Or whoever stands behind him in the shadows.
This time the topic will be the enrichment of the Orbán family, which included Viktor Orbán's father, Győző, between 1998 and 2002–that is, while he was prime minister.Debreczeni, who for years taught high school history before he became a politician and subsequently a writer on politics, notes that although political corruption has had a long history in Hungary, the highest political dignitaries did not dirty their hands with money grubbing. Not so Viktor Orbán who, as investigative journalists discovered, systematically exploited his position for financial gain.
Just to put things in perspective, here are a couple of figures. In 1998 Orbán and his wife had 5.5 hectares of agricultural land. Four years later they had 11.5 times more. In 1994 the couple purchased an apartment for 563,000 forints in downtown Budapest. In 2002 they purchased a villa in the most elegant section of Buda for 75 million forints, which they enlarged and renovated to the tune of tens of millions.
Viktor Orbán's father Győző–which by the way is the Hungarian equivalent of Viktor–had two smallish quarries worth 98 million forints. Four years later, he was worth 666 million forints.
The Orbáns were involved in two separate business ventures. Neither is pretty.
Their first business venture took them to Tokaj. Dezső Kékessy, a wealthy Hungarian businessman from Switzerland who left Hungary after the 1956 revolution but returned to Hungary after 1990, was looking for business opportunities. Tokaj seemed like a good prospect. During the socialist period Tokaj, which had had a very good name before the second world war, lost its luster due to the general deterioration of viticulture in Hungary. The stock was old, so vineyards could be had for relatively little money. Kékessy and Orbán met and became friends and eventually business partners. Well, that's not quite precise. On paper Kékessy's business partner was Orbán's wife, Anikó Lévai. I might add that Orbán eventually named Kékessy ambassador to France.
The Orbáns' share in the company that Kékessy formed was relatively small, but the Orbáns naturally became key business partners due to Orbán's position. First, he made sure that the grapes the company produced found a market. There was an ailing state company in Tokaj that was still the major buyer of grapes in the region. Since the head of the state bottling company was appointed by Orbán, they had a ready market for their grapes. In fact, in 2000 the state company bought grapes only from the Orbán-Kékessy vineyard. Orbán also made sure that the state bottling company had money to buy their grapes. In 2000, the government financially strengthened the ailing company with the injection of 1.5 billion forints. In 2001 another 2.5 billion was invested in the company. And it kept buying the prime minister's grapes, even though there was a glut in the wine market.
Tokaj wine region / Wikipedia.org
The Fidesz government also offered what amounted to a "friends and family" package. István Stumpf, who headed the prime minister's office in those days, had a large, extended family in the region, some of whom owned vineyards. In 1998 the Stumpf family managed to sell only 5 million forints worth of grapes, but after cousin István became an important man in the government they did exponentially better. In 2000 their sales were 17.7 million and in 2001 30.6 million. Two Stumpfs were actually employees of the bottling company, and it was their cousin in Budapest who approved pumping billions into the state company.
But that wasn't all. The Orbán-Kékessy company asked for state subsidies for the improvement of their vineyards. The owners got together to discuss business matters, often in Viktor Orbán's apartment. It was during one of these meetings that Orbán warned his business partners to be cautious about the subsidies: "we shouldn't be the ones who get the most." Obviously he was worried about someone discovering his interest in the company. So they didn't get the most, only the second most. In 2001 570 people received subsidies for vineyard improvements. Only two got over 40 million forints. The first received 44,636 forints, and the second, the Orbán-Kékessy concern, 41,475. In addition, on two other occasions their company received an additional 64.5 million forints in subsidies.
The other setting for the growing Orbán empire was Felcsút, the village where Orbán spent his early childhood. Of course, nowadays we hear mostly about the Puskás Football Academy and the huge stadium for 3,500 in a village of 1,800 inhabitants. But twelve years ago the expansion of Orbán's holdings was still in its infancy. Here too, the launch of the Orbán empire was shady. In 2001 the Orbáns purchased 54 hectares of agricultural land for half the price of what land sold for in those days in the County of Fehér. Anikó Lévai purchased the land from Sándor Bognár, the head of a large state farm in the vicinity (an Orbán appointee). Two weeks after Bognár sold the land to the Orbáns, the state farm without competitive bidding was privatized. And who became the majority owner of the farm? Sándor Bognár.
But that is not the end of the story. Felcsút and five villages around it received a 2.7 billion forint state subsidy for water control. Apparently flooding is not a problem in the area. In fact, these villages receive less than the average amount of precipitation. The ministry in charge put the Felcsút application in thirtieth place on their list of ranked applications. Sándor Pintér, minister of the interior, stopped the discussion and made the documentation of the parliamentary commission a state secret. Against the recommendations of the ministry he placed the Felcsút project at the head of the list.
After Felcsút received this subsidy, the puzzle of the low price of the land that Sándor Bognár sold to the Orbáns was solved. It turned out that Bognár had purchased the land from two sisters who had additional acreage, which now the local government purchased on the government subsidy for the purpose of building rain collectors. The sisters received 10 million forints for about three hectares, seven times the average price of land in and around Felcsút. This is how the two sisters got compensated for selling their land for half price to the Orbáns and the Hungarian taxpayers footed the bill.
As a result of the large government investments in and around Felcsút, real estate prices have skyrocketed. The land the Orbáns bought for 5 million is today worth 34.4 million. It is also possible that the status of this land might be changed from "agricultural" to "land for development." In that case it could be worth 400 million forints.
And finally, a few words about Győző Orbán's business ventures. Dunaferr, a steel plant, was in those days still a state company. After Orbán took office the management of the company was changed. Soon thereafter Dunaferr signed a five-year contract with Győző Orbán's quarry to supply gravel and concrete for Dunaferr. He was the low bidder but later it turned out that the contract didn't include transportation costs that were separately billed. These costs had to be considerable because Orbán's quarry was a great deal farther from Dunaferr than the company that had supplied the materials previously.
It turned out that the elder Orbán also supplied material for road construction as a subcontractor. His son later denied his father's business connection with Vegyészgép, which received the construction job without competitive bidding. But Viktor Orbán didn't tell the truth. Győző Orbán, in anticipation of the large order from Vegyépszer, managed to get the rights to quarry rock and gravel. Once his son warned him about the dangers of getting state orders, he passed these rights on to one of his men, who established a new company called Femol Kft.
As the saying goes, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
Source: Hungarian Spectrum
Last Updated on Friday, 29 November 2013 07:51