Ever since Vaterland, my first photobook, I have been following the rise and spread of neofascism in Europe and beyond. Since my book was published, anti-democratic forces in Germany have more than doubled their vote share while democratic parties have adopted far-right talking points. It’s probably fair to say that the left as a political power has become irrelevant, and most democratic parties offer some variant of conservative policies. The social-democratic West Germany I was born into has now become a historical oddity, as the country’s dominant political class has morphed into a feckless, ruthlessly neoliberal clique.
It is only its history that differentiates Germany from the rest of Europe. Neoliberalism has swept across the continent, and it has brought about a sharp rise in neofascist parties everywhere. Prabhat Patnaik wrote a concise article about the relationship between neoliberalism and neofascism. He argues that there is a conflict between them that might rupture things eventually. But that’s hardly a consolation for all those who are swept up under neofascist, illiberal regimes.
In 2023, I had the opportunity to travel to Budapest again. Under Viktor Orbán rule, Hungary has been transformed into the closest equivalent of Vladimir Putin’s Russia in the European Union (if you don’t believe me, maybe this article will set you straight: “Today, Hungary is a flourishing dictatorship.”). Of course, I had to bring my camera to loosely continue the work I had done with Vaterland.
After all, almost everywhere you go in Europe, you will stumble across traces of the devastation wrought by Nazi Germany. I wanted to pick up on some of those traces, knowing full well that up until 1944, Hungary was actually allied with Nazi Germany.
Furthermore, as Jason Stanley outlines in Erasing History, neofascist rulers have a particular interest in re-defining their nation’s history. This inevitably involves making the nation “great again” by erasing everything that stands in the way of that supposed greatness.
Photography is great for such work because you don’t need much more than surfaces. History is told through surfaces — and erasure. Erasure leaves holes and gaps, and you can train your camera on those as well. In general, the more furiously a regime is trying to re-define its nation’s history, the more traces you will find.
At the same time, while I could have made work around on the role of history for the neofascist project, that idea felt incomplete to me. It also did not feel right: I did not want to tell Hungarians’ story. Other photographers might not have any problems with that, and I certainly do not want to imply any judgment on them for their choices.
After all, the story of neofascism is always also the story of the people who have to live under it. In part, my thinking might be informed by trying to find out for years what Germans such as my grandparents were thinking while they were living in Nazi Germany. Books such as Svetlana Alexievich‘s also left a deep mark in my psyche: they’re most filled with narrations by ordinary people, and it is the steady accumulation of minute details that fills out the larger picture.
So I decided that I would seek out Hungarian people and have them talk about their country. I put out a call on Instagram: if you’re Hungarian, will you talk to me about your country? A number of people offered their time, and I am intensely grateful to them: Judith Gellér, Milos Kallai, Domonkos Németh, Ákos Polgárdi, Andi Schmied, and Liza Szabó.
For these conversations, I prepared a small number of very broad and simple questions, and people told me what they felt they needed to tell me. Later, I went through the collections of texts, and I extracted parts that I then assembled into a text that runs parallel to the photographs in what became Fault Lines, my new photobook or rather image-text book. I also added a few quotes by Hungarian leaders (who much like all neofascists have always been very open about their motivations).
I am also very grateful to the photography students who kindly allowed me to take their portraits: Daniella Grinberg, Anna Gajewsky, Laura Virág Szekeres, Tamara Süle, Hunor Tóth, and Andris Turi. And of course, I am grateful to Hungarian photographers Arion Gabór Kudász, Gábor Máté, Peter Puklus, Krisztina Erdei, and Ábel Szalontai who spoke with me about photography, their country, Hungarian wine, and much more.
Even though the following isn’t part of my book, I believe that it is worthwhile pointing it out: for such a small country, Hungary has had an outsized influence on the history of photography. Major names include Brassaï (born Gyula Halász), Robert Capa (born Endre Ernő Friedmann; who for better or worse became maybe the role model of the dashing photojournalist), André Kertész, and László Moholy-Nagy (who defined photographic modernity to an extent unmatched by anyone else).
Actually, there is a connection with an aspect in my book: they all left Hungary and attained their fame elsewhere.
Just like my first book, Fault Lines was published by Kerber Verlag. You can get a copy either through them, a friendly bookseller, or you can get a copy directly from me (if you’re interested, send me an email: jmcolberg@gmail.com). I have a lot of copies for sale, so please don’t hesitate to reach out.