I’m not sure what I expected, but I didn’t expect this. And when I read today in the Hungarian Spectrum that a ruling politician had declared that “our goal is to achieve a stable, absolute majority with 100 seats to establish a government. Above that number every seat is only a gift, a sign of the voters’ trust,” I had to wonder. A two-thirds majority was some gift indeed. I’m deflated. Completely deflated. Friends who voted spoke of the palpable excitement and anticipation of change at the polling booths. The other guys were being better people and standing down in favour of stronger counterparts. It seemed as if the planets were aligning and while I never thought that the 100 seats would not be achieved, I was sure the other guys would fare better. But I was wrong.

I dug out this poem I’d read last year in the aftermath of another disappointing election – and it just about sums it up for me.

An Election Tale: A Poem By Tarik Günersel

Once upon a time, on Mars,
an election took place –a farce:

A profit promising guy was promoted
for imperial goals; twice his followers voted.

The Electoral Board: “It’s been a good race;
here’s the official result we realistically face:

A post-modern synthesis of kingdom and republic.
Despite infidels, God’s Law conquers the public.

We proudly present this legal innovation,
which is naturally the best for our obedient nation.”

Thus the selected leader declared “Victory!”
A journalist dared to ask: “Is justice history?”

Public reaction was professionally tested;
“Fraud!” –some opponents protested:

“Booo! Look at the voting lists: We’re excluded,
but some dead were secretly included!”

On TV, the financed misleader announced:
“All those traitors must be denounced!

Evil circles keep sponsoring their acts,
I speak the truth, supported by alternative facts.

In our new democracy, which patriots promote,
dead citizens can also vote

as the revival of our passified [sic] nation.
Down with foreign agents! We need fair aggression!

I do have an idea about sports:
Attack is the best defence, as echoed in the courts.

My leadership proves that ‘evolution’ is wrong.
To my faith in God your lives now belong.”

All such stuff was not without reaction;
some with conscience attempted action:

Two girls, on hunger strike, stood up
and were given free poison in a cup.

A few more utopian objectors [sic] joined in the story
for a happy ending –a deserved glory:

“It’s high time for a revolution
for Martian rights, devolution!”

The outcome on Mars remains unknown,
but your life on Earth is a path of your own.

No gods can build a future for you.
No solution can rise out of the blue.

An Election Tale: A Poem By Tarik Günersel