Csaplár Ferenc szerk.: Lajos Kassák / The Advertisement and Modern Typography (1999)

Comments on the Promotional Campaign of Hungarian Week

COMMENTS ON THE PROMOTIONAL CAMPAIGN OF HUNGARIAN WEEK Not so long ago we read about British Week, then German Week, and at last this "fashion wave" reached us too, and we stood face-to-face with our own national campaign called Hungarian Week. We put the phrase fashion wave in inverted commas to show that these different national weeks are not borne of mere fad, but are conscious experiments in national policy. However, the country's industrial potential being insignificant compared to that of the rest of the world (the country is too small and its population is predominantly peasant), Hungarian Week did not seem to serve the same purpose. For if the publicity and advertising of this week had been taken seriously, would all the ghastly posters have been bought, printed and put up, and would the tradesmen have decorated their shops with all that mindless pomp and packed their shop windows possibly with fine goods but certainly also as though we were all going bankrupt and so our only hope had been the sale of these things? All nations have the right to promote their own goods at least within the boundaries of their own country, and well they should because appropriate advertising fosters consumers' confidence and inclination to buy and thereby increases production and decreases unemployment, the latter itself boosting buying power. It is therefore quite appropriate from the point-of-view of national policy, or better, national economic policy, for the various countries to organise such national weeks. If, however, this national week which claims to be in the interest of the country's industry and commerce is inadequately organised, all citizens involved in production or consumption should protest. Not having been present at British or German week, we have no grounds to form an opinion of them. Hungarian Week, however, we did have the occasion to see, and we can very well say that it looked more like a close-out sale than a display of what a civilised country has produced. We saw no sign of culture being used in promotion, though the walls were all pasted over with posters and the shops packed with goods. But we should not forget that this week was meant to demonstrate and represent Hungarian industry and commerce, in other words, the level the country has reached, and we can assert without any fear of contradiction that we have never seen on the streets of Budapest so many thoroughly ugly posters as during this same Hungarian Week, and we have never seen our shop windows so run-down in quality, as during this Hungarian Week. If we have any industry of any value whatsoever, how is it possible that our production is promoted so poorly? If we had not known the indisputable qualities of Hungarian workers, if we had not known from reports and direct experience that Hungarian emigrant workers represent a strong labour force acknowledged throughout the world, we would have thought that Hungary being an agrarian country with a worthless labour force is unable to put out quality goods. But Hungarian workers can doubtless stand the competition with any other foreign labour force, and thus the only remaining explanation is that the owners and managers of Hungarian ÁLLÁSPONT • TÉNYEK ÉS UJ LEHETŐSÉGEK Lajos Kassák. Álláspont (Viewpoint) (Vienna: Ma, 1924) Title page, 155x155 mm industry, as a result of either haughty indolence or a lack of knowledge of modern production methods, did not realise the significance of Hungarian Week. Or is there anyone who thinks that the advertising of Hungarian Week can be taken seriously in the way the British, Germans or Russians would inform and influence their public? Hungarian Week seemed more like an accidentally organised fair than a demonstration displaying the quantity and quality of national output. The whole event was to similar foreign experiments as is that piece of equipment that directs traffic at the crossing of, say, Rákóczi út and Körút is to a similar device on the Viennese Ring. Both pieces of equipment are connected to an electrical supply, but there is one small difference: while the one in Vienna rings a bell, turns a light on and unequivocally shows the right of way with the pressing of a button, the one in Budapest has to be poked to work with a rod, and even then it hardly winks a green or a red eye to the pentup crowd. A committee had visited Vienna to study Viennese traffic management, and having thoroughly examined the far from devilish implement, they had it fixed up at home apparently so that it would have to be goaded to work with a truncheon, recalling the heyday of village lamp lighting far more than the method and form of Viennese traffic lights. I brought up this instance of clumsiness to illustrate the impression created by the walls, advertisement pillars and shop windows of Budapest during Hungarian Week. It was only the ostentatious name („electric policeman") and the distant formality of the foreign traffic lights that reached us, and the same is true of Hungarian Week. Traffic lights are a result of the big city, just as such national display weeks 15