Slovakia - Hungary
Hand
in hand: protestors around the Gabcikovo dam region.
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River flows
Danube
Length: 2,850
km
Source: Confluence of the Breg and Brigach rivers in the Black Forest
Mouth: Black Sea
Countries: Austria, Bulgaria, Croatia, Germany, Hungary, Romania, Slovakia, Ukraine,
Yugoslavia
Population around the river basin: 85 million
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An
author renowned for his sense of humour takes a grim view of a political row between
his native Hungary and Slovakia in which the Danube is held hostage
We may thank rivers
for life: bringing water to drink, to nourish our fields and to carry our boats.
There is only one problem: they are exceptionally suited to forming borders. Instead
of uniting people bound for a common destiny, suspicious nations, often incited by
clashing politics, glare at each other like wolves from opposing shores. I have seen
such venom flowing along the Danube between Hungary and Slovakia.
The Danube has always been a tempestuous force, bringing alternating waves of calamity.
Either it was too abundant, forcing entire villages to seek higher ground,or it was
too feeble, leaving fields to wither and causing a sudden halt to navigation.
The Roman emperors Tiberius and Trajan were the first to hire civil engineers to
devise ways of protecting their banks from the fickle Danube. Many would follow their
example, but it was not before the 20th century that the technicians would muster
the power and tools to tame the river.
By 1951, serious plans were underway to build a series of dams along the Danube in
Hungary and Czechoslovakia. The Soviet Union was anxious to alter the river’s shallow
reaches which were hampering the shipment of its goods in Eastern Europe. At that
time, few questioned the wisdom of “correcting mother nature” and it was considered
a scientifically proven fact that a river the size of the Danube required not just
one dam, but several. Otherwise, sediments would collect and disrupt navigation and
damage embankments, causing bridges to collapse. It would take another 20 years to
iron out the technical and financial arrangements but in September 1977, the Republic
of Hungary and the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic signed a now infamous treaty to
build the Gabcikovo-Nagymaros dam system.
Grinding
the axe of the opposition
The region was clearly suffering. Authorities recorded more than 100 days of shallow
waters a year, which damaged the wild flora and left several hundred ships stranded
along a 250-kilometre stretch of the river. While the project was originally intended
to improve navigation, it grew to include hydroelectricity as the oil shocks of the
1970s intensified.
A large reservoir would be built at Dunakiliti, which straddled both countries. From
there, a 17-km canal would divert 90 to 95 percent of the Danube’s flow to a hydroelectric
dam and powerplant in Gabcikovo in Czechoslovakia. About 100 km downstream in Hungary
at Nagymaros, another power station and dam would even the river’s flow.
Construction began in 1978 based upon plans drawn up by world-famous Hungarian, Slovak
and Austrian water experts, against whom accusations of a technical nature could
hardly have been raised–not so against their political inclinations, as it was later
revealed.
By the end of the 1980s, the powers waiting to relieve the socialist system of Eastern
Europe lurked in the shadows. Yet they could hardly demand the departure of the occupying
Soviet army, or indeed a multi-party system. Instead, they demonstrated on environmental
grounds and found an obvious target in the ongoing construction of the Gabcikovo-Nagymaros
dams. It was like a chink in the system’s wall into which the opposition could wedge
its demolition axe, held at the ready.
Protestors marched en masse down the streets of Budapest and along the banks beside
Nagymaros. Anybody who had anything to do with the project was declared a Stalinist,
or worse, a traitor to his country. As public pressure intensified, the Hungarian
government decided to suspend the half-finished construction. The culmination came
in 1990 when the right-wing government took power and unilaterally cancelled the
treaty.
But the Czechoslovak side paid no heed to the Hungarians and carried on with the
work further upstream. The authorities unilaterally decided to divert a 25-kilometre
stretch of the Danube, which served as part of the border between the two countries,
into its own territory, where another dam was built to replace the one intended for
Hungary. Gabcikovo would not be as powerful as planned, but it would be operational.
Fish
in the mud
Protest
marches similar to those in Hungary had no effect. History was not on the demonstrators’
side. As Czechoslovakia divided into two parts, Slovakia came to see Gabcikovo as
the symbol of their independent state, born in 1993.
By the end of October 1992, the Danube was diverted and the main channel stretching
across Hungarian territory suddenly lost 90 to 95 percent of its water. Signs indicating
the river’s water level were left standing on dry land. Groundwater levels in surrounding
areas dropped by two or three metres days after the Danube stopped feeding its streams.
Fish were trapped in the old basin, left to asphyxiate in the mud.
The Hungarians could not believe the drama unfolding before them. Extremist elements
spoke of blowing up the obstructing dam. Fortunately, this threat was soon replaced
by negotiations fostered by the European Community, which was already panicked by
bloodshed in the Balkans. Both sides sat down to talk, yet the balance of power was
skewed in Slovakia’s favour. With firm control of the lion’s share of the river’s
water supply and energy output, it took little notice of Hungarian wishes. In April
1993, the dispute was submitted to the International Court of Justice in The Hague.
In 1994, the Socialists came back into power in Hungary but could hardly back out
of the court case, which was hailed as a landmark: for the first time, the court
would rule over an environmental dispute. But this case was about politics, not water.
And so the court handed down an ambiguous decision in 1997, which both parties could
interpret to their advantage. The 1977 treaty was still valid, according to the ruling,
but each side was at fault for acting unilaterally–Hungary for pulling out and Slovakia
for continuing with the construction. They were called upon to negotiate in good
faith. Even though the court had no way of enforcing its ruling, both sides returned
to the negotiating table. Anxious to join the European Union, the two governments
wanted to show their wealthy Western neighbours that they could resolve their disputes
in a civilized manner. The outline of a mutually acceptable agreement was drawn up
to finally complete the project and resolve key environmental concerns.
Once again, politics intervened. Hungary’s right-wing opposition joined forces with
the “storming” Greens and together they organized mass demonstrations. For a second
time in less than a decade, they managed to use the same weapons to force the government
to back down. Yet this time, the Socialist government was keeling before the final
deathblow of parliamentary elections in 1998.
Weak
resolve
In
their manifesto, the right-wing elements at the helm of the new government promised
to remedy the Danube. Yet three and a half years later, not a single worthy step
has been taken. Hungary has however, been spending millions of dollars to take down
the half-built dam and might be forced to spend millions more to compensate Slovakia
for pulling out of the deal. There is talk of forming more committees or returning
to the International Court of Justice–a sure sign that both countries are still not
committed to resolving the situation. Their true colours will inevitably show soon–both
will hold parliamentary elections in 2002.
Take a stroll along the two banks of the Danubian basin today and you will see that
the Gabcikovo region in Slovakia is thriving, while on the Hungarian side, the land
which was supposed to store water has been overrun by weeds. And the Danube? The
Danube carries not water, it carries politics, dirty politics. |
