What is Hungarian?

Mi a magyar? That's the question asked by a new exhibition at the impressively neo-classical Kunsthalle building on Budapest's Heroes' Square.

The exhibition title suggests uncertainty, doubt, even angst about the national identity.

It's not unusual for most countries to question their identity at some time in their history. And today's pace of change threatens traditional ideas and values everywhere.

But here in Hungary, it is the sort of question one feels the country has been asking itself for centuries. And, yet, it has still to come up with an answer.

The Kunsthalle (Műcsarnok in Hungarian) is Budapest's centre for the contemporary arts. The exhibition therefore is imaginative, amusing and confusing. Which is what you expect a contemporary art exhibition to be.

But does it answer the big question it poses?

Well... no. But, as the curators point out on the many editorial boards through the exhibition, the aim is not to clearly identify Hungary's identity but to suggest its various possibilities.

In a country where history – of conquest and struggle – remains so important for about half the population, even a contemporary exhibition cannot avoid it. Thus, a life-size war-horse with dismounted, well-armed, Mongol (or is he Magyar?) rider is a pointed reminder. As too is a space containing monitors showing nothing but unexploded mortar bombs.

In another walk-through space, semi-darkness is compounded by a thick, smoky mist, illuminated by sharp laser beams. Modernity co-existing with Hungary's foggy past? Is it futuristic, or just mystically Transylvanian?

One room in the exhibition simply contains published quotations on the nature of Hungary. This surely could provide some answers to the exhibition's big question. But as the quotes are all in Hungarian, I had difficulty drawing conclusions. However, reading between the lines with my scant Magyarül, statements of what makes Hungary special – language, culture, politics – still failed to provide anything singular and concrete to hang a pelisse* upon.

One witty exhibit, juxtaposing traditional with contemporary pleasures, has a shot of palinka in a small glass beside two 'lines' of finely ground red powder – which is, of course, paprika.

Further comment reflecting divisions in Hungarian society places a delicate plaster of Paris model of Hungary's parliament on a table, with a noisy vibrating generator beneath. The building constantly shakes and appears to be slowly splitting apart.

Duality, indeed, is a theme that apparently runs through the exhibition. Not simply to offer the viewer alternatives; but because honouring the past, while facing the challenges of the present, seems very much the nature of Hungary today.

Political ideas must lie close to the heart of any current debate on national identity. And the conflict over political directions that divides Hungarians is illustrated by an exhibit showing two completely identical portraits of a busy middle-aged gentleman, one is named 'the traditionalist' and the other 'the liberal' (or similar words).

For me, summing up an identity for Hungary is probably an impossible task. Hungary is something you feel but can hardly express. As the exhibition suggests, there are many characteristics, but it is hard to shape them into a singular direction or purpose.

Politicians and philosophers try to define the country – in terms of its past, its future potential, or both. But Hungary just continues to be what it is: a blend of past, present and indeterminate future that stubbornly, yet proudly, stays an enigma to most.

* Pelisse – originally a short, fur-lined jacket hung over the left shoulder and first adopted by Hungarian cavalry huszars in the 17th century to protect from sword cuts.