Interview with Dr János B. Kocsis, author of In the Pull of the Periphery (2025, Századvég) and Associate Professor (habilitation) at the Department of Economic Geography and Urban Development, Corvinus University of Budapest.

In the 1990s, the process suddenly became highly visible: urban sprawl entered a new, rapid phase that differed in quality from what had come before. Large numbers of families moved from the capital to smaller settlements around Budapest, and the phenomenon has proved hard to stop ever since. But why did this happen? How is it possible that in villages that used to be tiny – such as Telki, for example – 65% of the housing stock was newly built between 1990 and 2004? 

Why did so many people move to the settlements around Budapest? Is it mainly about money? 

It is true that in the small villages surrounding Budapest you can buy a much larger flat or house for the same amount of money than you can in the capital. The air is cleaner, children can play in the garden, there are no parking problems, public safety is better, and social connections tend to form more quickly than in a big city. Even so, I don’t think a family’s financial situation is the most important factor. For many, this is about the so-called suburban dream becoming reality. 

This is a global phenomenon, but suburbanisation started much earlier in the United States and Western Europe: in the US in the 1920s, and in Western Europe in the 1950s. The big suburban dream includes not only a calm, clean environment, but also the security of private property.  

People think: “I can control my life better if I’m my own boss.” Even in housing systems that function better than ours, renting is always uncertain – changes in a landlord’s life can lead to termination and a rushed search for a new home, which nobody wants. In Central and Eastern Europe, our history and repeated negative experiences also create a lived sense that private property is safer. 

Who is it that moves out to the agglomeration? 

Primarily the middle classes. The upper class can afford, for example, a 200-square-metre flat in a prestigious inner-city area such as Andrássy Avenue – and perhaps also a villa elsewhere for the summer. Lower-status groups are more likely to buy homes in Budapest’s outer districts in the south and east. This has long been the pattern: people moving up to the city from the countryside were pushed into suburban areas because their income did not allow for anything else. And, of course, the suburban dream also includes – not always openly admitted – the prestige of having your own house and garden. 

Is Budapest, or other large cities, really that bad as a place to live? 

Both Western European city centres and Budapest deteriorated significantly in the second half of the twentieth century. In Paris, the slogan was precisely “let’s move out” – as it was in many other big cities. Overcrowding, buildings in poor condition, unhealthy air, parking that can seem almost impossible, and declining public safety: everywhere in the world, these have pushed people towards the agglomeration. 

A favourite example for me is The French Connection (1971), a film that won five Oscars. For me it is very much about this topic. It was filmed mainly in Brooklyn, and it also suggests that only “shady characters” remain in the city. Blade Runner (1982) paints a similarly bleak picture of the future of city centres, contrasting it with the perceived advantages of the “colonies” – that is, suburbia. 

In your book, you also write that there are very few inner-city flats in Budapest that are suitable for families with children because of their size and layout. The housing supply simply doesn’t fit. 

Yes, unfortunately there are many severely run-down buildings and small flats. And the flats in the new apartment blocks being built in Budapest today are also very small. 

In Hungary, the decline of the inner city began before the political transition, with the nationalisation of rental buildings, and the chaotic nature of the transition added to it. Local governments knew that a large part of the housing stock was in very poor condition, but they did not have the money for mass renovation.  

Under the law in force in 1993, tenants could buy the flats they lived in at extremely favourable prices, even over many years in instalments. At the time, everyone welcomed this: the municipality was rid of the burden of renovation, tenants became owners – but many did not consider that the building itself might be in very poor condition. They were simply happy to be free of the notoriously bad IKV, the property management company. 

There are very few old buildings where all utilities work properly and no major renovation is needed. In this respect, panel buildings are in a better position, as several renovation programmes have modernised many of them. That said, the standard 54 square metres is hardly spacious for a family with two children. Many people move out to the agglomeration from these homes as well. 

You also write that condominium associations cannot afford these major renovations, and that decision-making within the building is often a serious problem. 

Unfortunately, in the 1990s, tenants did not become “real” owners in the sense of taking on ownership responsibilities – the opportunity fell into their laps. Beyond the lack of money, an important reason renovations are delayed is that almost every building has a few residents who vote down any repair work, not only for financial reasons. 

Regulation is more flexible now (it is no longer necessary for a renovation to be approved 100%), but it is also true that only a small share of residents usually attend condominium meetings. This means key decisions are made by a handful of people in a large community, while everyone bears the consequences.  

Collective decision-making simply does not work in most condominium buildings. There also isn’t a truly motivated actor: the common representative usually tries to solve problems using as few resources as possible.  

The value of a well-maintained building is not really reflected in property prices. Of course, there are positive exceptions in Budapest too – but I still think collective irresponsibility exists. The numbers support this: the population of inner-city districts (for example Districts VI and VII) has declined significantly. 

So commuting – since most people still work in Budapest – does not deter those who move out? 

Clearly, it makes life more difficult for people who relocate. For families with small children – even if many agglomeration settlements can be reached reasonably well by public transport – a car is typically necessary, both to take children to activities and to commute into the city for work. 

Covid brought a major change here: after the pandemic, opportunities for home working increased. Many jobs now only require coming in once or twice a week. In addition, in many of the personal interviews I conducted while writing the book, it became clear that after moving out, one member of the couple often does not keep their Budapest job – instead, they may start a business locally, or work closer to home. 

What have you observed about how newcomers integrate into their new settlements? Do social connections improve? In many big-city buildings, residents no longer know each other – there are so many tenants or Airbnb guests that “being neighbourly” is losing its meaning, and this can sometimes end in tragedy. 

City centres everywhere – not only in Budapest – are becoming almost temporary residential areas due to tourism and the spread of Airbnb. The urban core absorbs tourists and large numbers of young single people through the supply of rental flats. These young renters live here for four or five years, sometimes even ten, depending on how their circumstances evolve. Parking doesn’t trouble them much: they get around by bicycle or scooter, and public transport suits their needs. 

It is true that in old buildings, often more than a hundred years old, the corridor (the gang) used to be a well-functioning integrating network. Today, singles who rent a flat, work, and go out do not want to integrate where they live. 

Small settlements that attract families do a lot to become more appealing to new residents. Social connections develop well in these places: nurseries and schools bring parents together, their problems are similar, and people connect quickly. It also benefits the settlement when many young families move in – they bring new energy and drive development. 

The process of suburbanisation fundamentally reshapes society. Interestingly, at the start of the process two reactions could be observed, regardless of political views: some people rejected it and said it must be fought, while others saw it as something entirely new. I think we should approach the phenomenon in a value-neutral way. What is certain is that it exists in many countries – even in a command-and-control system like China, you can find it.  

Katalin Török 

Photo: János B. Kocsis