Dear friends, comrades, dear family and supporters,

I have decided to write to you and to all those who are interested in hearing a word from me. Today is December 30, 2024. Today, I thought, should have been the day for a detention review after six months. During this review, the prosecution, my lawyer, and I were to meet in a Hungarian court to debate whether it is (still) necessary for me to remain in pretrial detention. It has been almost 13 months since I was arrested in Berlin, and likely only a few days after my first “anniversary” in detention, the Hungarian prosecution must have sent its indictment against me to the competent court, without deeming it necessary to inform me. In it, they describe the charges, provide their “evidence,” and sketch, broadly speaking, a specific image of me and the co-defendants. This image portrays us as a group of brutal assailants driven by hatred, indiscriminately chasing people through the streets. The prosecution accuses me of being a danger to society and concludes that I should face 14 years in prison in the strictest conditions, without the possibility of parole, provided I fully confess my guilt. Following this, they demand that I remain in pretrial detention, at least until the first verdict. The competent court now has a comfortable three years to decide, with no obligation to hurry. A few days ago, my lawyer received this indictment along with the decision of a court that, in our absence, has decided to detain me indefinitely. The actual detention review was therefore cancelled, and we are left with only the option of filing a written objection at the next level.

I sit here, shaking my head, staring in disbelief, laughing, and getting angry, while the feeling of powerlessness and anxiety begins to pull the ground out from under my feet. It is not the absurd, reality-denying charges formulated by the prosecution, nor their destructive demands. It is much more the way they take the right to steal my time. Absurdly, I am comforted by the thought that this was to be expected. That Hungary, although dressing itself in the grand term “rule of law,” is really just a label, one of many. Rights are not common here; at least not for everyone. The state holds the power, and the law serves its actors more than “justice”. This entirely “legal” maneuver by the prosecution shows me that they did not want to risk a judge hearing a word from me. The danger was too great that solitary confinement, structured below the dignity of humanity, might come to an end.

Now that I am denied the opportunity to speak in court, I have decided to speak here, a long overdue step. For the fact that it seemed as rare as possible to me, I apologize, for so many people have already seen the necessity and courageously raised their voices in the past two years—spoken, written, planned, organized, demonstrated, donated, and warmed trembling hands, supporting each other. In so many different ways, your solidarity has reached me over the years and enriched me with strength, courage, and hope. It seems to me that I have far too rarely put into words the gratitude I feel for that. Thanks to you, the utopias remain colourful, held in tender hands whose will does not break. I want you to know that it works—every word, every thought, every political struggle I hear of, that dares not to fall silent, but always rises again instead of getting lost in the sea of wealth.

You and your comrades have my solidarity; my thoughts remain with you and with all the political prisoners worldwide fighting for an emancipatory society. I share in thought your pain, the anger over states and their violence, as well as the hope of living in a society that still dares to change for the better, that turns away from war, violence, oppression, and exploitation. I respect every single person who dares to resist patriarchy, authoritarian desires, the behaviour of nationalist communities, and unbridled enrichment, whether on a large or small scale.

Even though Hungary continues to keep me imprisoned, with the sole intent to pre-judge, punish, and intimidate me, while the German government quietly nods and holds Orban’s hand, even though isolation is wearing down my mind, the lack of sunlight makes me fade, and the longing for a familiar conversation and a single embrace pulls me out of sleep at night – I remain here, I remain by your side. Let us always dare not to fall silent, even when the months and years sometimes threaten to erode all hope and trust in our own strength. We cannot despair, it would be fatal. Too much is at stake, so much has already started to slip that was once fought for and learned. If my brief words have encouraged you, perhaps with a familiar smile, a supportive, caring look you give to someone, then all I can do is thank you for reading and listening.

A presto mi faro vivo!

In solidarity
Maja