BUDAPEST, Hungary -- The bullet scar on her arm has faded like a distant star, but Maria Sebestyen remembers when tanks clattered through moonlit alleys, the enemy wore a Soviet uniform and for a bloody moment this city held the world's attention.
Revolutions get crushed and enemies change. Today, the fervor and romanticism that defined Cold War defiance seem quaint history from a worn book. University students carry iPods instead of Molotov cocktails; the Danube is busy with tourist boats.
But for Sebestyen and her compatriots from the doomed 1956 Hungarian uprising, which marks its 50th anniversary tomorrow, there is something incomplete. Communism was brought down 17 years ago, in a quieter revolution. And from its ruins a new revolt now rumbles through former East Bloc nations still trying to blend into the West.
Divided governments and political lies have failed to modernize the Communist welfare state. Public debt and pressure from investors are forcing Hungary and other new members of the European Union to undertake long-neglected reforms. The prospect outrages Sebestyen, who has watched her nation's economy grow but is told that government wages will be frozen and tens of thousands will lose their jobs.
"Taxes will be doubled. Layoffs are coming," she said. "Things keep rising on us."
Central Europe "is facing two common dynamics," said Krisztian Szabados, director of Political Capital, a research and consulting institute in Budapest. "The first is that people raised in communism believe that for every problem the state must provide a solution. The second problem arises out of the first: There is a rising populism. People want protection from globalization and market economies."
The region's political map bristles with unease: Conservatives in Poland have postponed major reforms and re-aligned with a populist party to avoid another government collapse; lawmakers in the Czech Republic are paralyzed by ideological differences; and the reformers who improved the Slovakian economy were ousted by populists and right-wing nationalists. In Hungary, Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsany faces daily protests after he admitted lying to voters "morning, evening and night" about public spending.
Voters feel twice duped. When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989 and communism vanished, joy eventually gave way to uncompromising capitalism. Now, Hungary, Poland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia must shrink deficits and cut social programs to be eligible for European Union development grants and move closer to their more affluent Western counterparts. The atmosphere has been further agitated by corruption scandals involving public officials, many of them reconstituted Communists.
"The problems these countries kept hidden under the blanket in order to meet EU standards are now coming to the surface," said Piotr Maciej Kaczynski, an analyst with the Institute of Public Affairs in Warsaw. "Their democratic systems are not that stable yet. It will take a while for these young democracies to mature."
Sebestyen is weary of waiting. A 22-year-old bartender when rifles and bandages were passed through the streets of Budapest in 1956, today she wears a gray-orange ponytail and has a smoker's rasp. More than 2,500 Hungarians died fighting Soviet forces, and survivors meet these days in a dusty building, remembering yesterday's bloodshed and pondering today's turmoil.
"It was beautiful back then," said Ilona Styop, who was 17 when she climbed the tower in her town hall and cut the Communist symbol from her nation's flag. "The enemy was clear to us. Everyone on the street was your brother.
"Today people are divided over what they want. We believed that if we beat the Russians back then we'd have had an ideal state. Yet even if our prime minister resigns today, what would we get? More of the same."
Protests against Gyurcsany, a millionaire with his own blog, began in September when a recording of a speech he gave to members of his Socialist Party became public. The prime minister said that political leaders had misled voters for years and that his party lied about the economy and budget cuts to get elected.
The EU and foreign investors quickly backed Gyurcsany's new reforms, but the public was given a wincing glimpse behind the facade of a government with a deficit equal to 10 percent of its gross domestic product.
Hooligans stormed the state television building, but since then opposition rallies have thinned. Gyurcsany won a no-confidence vote in parliament; Hungarians turned bitter at all sides in the political spectrum.
It seems to many that the nation is bedeviled by contradictory twins: one who boasts of strong international investment and a 35 percent rise in the standard of living; the other who reveals oversubsidized hospitals and pensions and the prospect of firing thousands of teachers, doctors, street sweepers and clerks.