Peaceful coexistence with anti-Hungarianism

Dear Mr. Emil Boc, mayor of Cluj-Napoca, who was elected by Hungarians and who leads the city alongside Hungarians: the smile froze on our faces. From one moment to the next, our world has turned upside down. After all, Hungarian youth from Cluj and Cluj County organized a peaceful demonstration, taking to the streets in a city that prides itself on being the Transylvanian, national, European, international, even an intergalactic model of multiculturalism – and this time, not to honor our national holidays or historical figures, not for some festival, but because of anti-Hungarian sentiment.

An isolated case? Perhaps. Come on, they were football hooligans, they are always causing a scene… It doesn’t matter to them whether their victims are Hungarian or not, they beat up Romanians too, just because they can… Perhaps. Ah, they just threw a few punches… Boys will be boys. Why didn't they just run away?

Why were they such weaklings? This kind of stuff happens... Perhaps. Where were the law enforcement officers, it's their fault, they didn't do their job... Perhaps. Why do we have to make such a big deal out of all this? Taking to the streets, protesting… we're just worsening Hungarian-Romanian relations, further inciting the extremists... Perhaps.

But let's at least accept one thing: the victim that was assaulted has the right to demand justice, and with his sad case, remind everyone that, there are ugly things lurking beneath the surface here, which are not without precedent.

And if things escalate to the point where not only individuals are being targeted, but an entire community – in this case, Hungarian youth in Cluj – feels compelled to take a peaceful stand in the face of an extremely sensitive and dangerous conflict situation, then instead of passing judgment, we should reflect on the root causes of the problem and consider possible solutions.

And the source of the problem has been right in front of our eyes for many, many years. It is not hidden, it is not some obscure thing, it does not come as a surprise: anyone can see it, hear it, because it shouts out loud, with giant banners, exactly who it is and what it stands for. And not in some back alley, but nestled in the pride of modern Cluj, its largest venue – the Arena – where, almost every week, it offers a regular taste of socially accepted – for some reason – hatred, practiced at the highest level.

Football, or rather the incredibly complex climate surrounding it, is well known to reflect the world we live in: small, but bombastically intense; stripped down, yet displaying the full arsenal of externalities; turning ordinary respect for order and well-mannered behavior upside down in the most bizarre way possible. And then there are the „ultras” balancing on the very edge of the limit still considered acceptable. And then, beyond that boundary is where the hooligans come into play. We are all aware that it is completely acceptable in football for any real fan to scream, curse, and make gestures throughout a match – regardless if they are a school principal, a policeman, a priest or a doctor of behavioral sciences. Or a 10-12 year old child. That is about the age I became entirely caught up in this world, and I continued living in it for about a decade (in another city). We weren't exactly part of the "hardcore" fan base, but there really wasn't one at the time: there were those who sang the entire match, and we eventually joined in too.

We didn’t even realize how much the seed of hatred that had settled and sprouted within us had grown — I only recognized and admitted this to myself many years later. Just like the fact that as a rowdy teenager, during away games at our biggest rival’s city – paying no mind to cordons, patrol officers, riot police and the lot – I did things that... well, I wouldn't want my children to do.

It is worth remembering that during the pandemic, „life stopped” in the stands, and when the stadiums finally opened, everyone let out all the accumulated steam, garbage, and frustration. Around this time, hateful, aggressive acts also noticeably increased. In fact, these did not fade away during the lockdown but rather provided fodder: the digital, online world is the hotbed of all of this hatred, where ultras and unfortunate losers prone to hooliganism can easily find each other with one click, sharing every „heroic act” of humiliating their rival, be it stealing flags or getting into a fight. Where a whole (under)world opens up not only to those with ill will, but also to those who are easily influenced.

It is well known that hooliganism was a big problem in the West, even in the best football championships, but with a strict approach from authorities, and with the effective cooperation of the professional associations, clubs, and fan communities, this insane form of aggression was pushed out of football stadiums and public spaces. This does not mean that it has ceased to exist; it has just disappeared from our sight and continues on in private groups, sparing the general public. The deluded hooligans don’t try to stand out, but rather prove themselves to each other and humiliate one another.

Unfortunately, this hostility is present in some form in almost every football team with a serious fan base and in every city with an affinity for football – but of course the form it takes is key.

It is well known that the fan base of Universitatea Cluj (“U”), or more precisely its core fans, spokespeople and radical sects, are at the forefront at the national level. The “militancy” of U — the club founded in 1919, amid the wave of Great Romanian euphoria following the end of World War I, and still seen today as a symbol of Romanian national sentiment — is rooted in a deliberately constructed, multi-layered and far-reaching image of the enemy. This is not, in fact, a „heritage” passed down from generation to generation.

The story of the now „eternally hated” city rival, CFR, is barely more than two decades old: the hostility was manufactured during the period when the CFR railway team was revived and rose to prominence — a team that, incidentally, was brought to the Champions League by a Hungarian man named Árpád Pászkány.

We can be sure that the teenagers who are now joining the U’s fan base believe that this has always been the case and will always be the case. Because this is what they see, this is what they learn, and unfortunately, they are very likely to pass it on, undisturbed and fueled by the free rise of political extremism. After all, no one is reprimanding them. Who should? Anyone. Everyone. Be it a parent, grandparent, teacher, coach, priest, friend, influencer. Or why not the club owner himself?! Who just happens to be the mayor?!

Emil Boc, who spends millions of euros a year from the Cluj-Napoca budget – both Romanian and Hungarian taxpayers’ money – on his favorite team, the U football club, has not said anything. For almost three days – after the attacks were thoroughly covered in both the local and national press – we searched in vain for thunderous statements from the mayor condemning the aggression (and just for your information, Hungarians were not the only ones assaulted).

What is it we find on Emil Boc’s Facebook page concerning the Universitatea Cluj’s „glorious victory”? A conversation that the mayor had on a live broadcast the day after the match, presumably (hopefully) before the crimes were discovered. In this discussion, he says, among other things: “A real show in the stands, Cluj won in every way. (...) There were voices that said these two teams couldn’t play in the same city. Here they are! With respect, with fan camps, with cheering, with good sportsmanship.

Two days later, in „this normal city, in this normality”, hundreds of people held a peaceful demonstration, because “in 2025, on the streets of Cluj-Napoca, anyone can perpetrate violence against those simply speaking Hungarian without being held accountable”, and indicating “ethnicity does not divide us – but hatred does”.

It is the self-evident duty of law enforcement agencies and the judiciary to shed light on the identity of the perpetrators and impose a worthy, deterrent punishment. But why is it not self-evident for a successful politician sitting at the helm of the bastion of multiculturalism to not only distance himself from violence in the usual way and condemn every aggressive act — as, after much difficulty, he finally did on Thursday, though citing police reports, he excluded any ethnic motivation — but also to

It is a parasite on his city, his favorite club (which he also maintains)... he could easily strike with his beak, yet he doesn't. Instead, like a careful hen, he warms his red-capped Universitatea eggs of hatred, with their monstrous offspring, which we can then „peacefully” coexist with for all eternity in Boc's multicultural model city.

korábban írtuk

Békés együttélés a magyarellenességgel

Emil Boc sokáig nem tért magához a multikulturalitás reklámarcaként vigyorgó városképét orrba vágó ökölcsapástól, és napokon keresztül azon morfondírozott a hirtelen köré épült szorító sarkában, hogy ezt a telitalálatot hogyan magyarázza ki.