Introduction and problem statement

In the present paper, I examine marriage and divorce patterns during the pandemic, drawing on digital anthropological research that I conducted in the form of online questionnaires, digital ethnography, and in-depth interviews between 2019 and 2022. During the research, I archived marriage- and divorce-related news in the media, legal and health regulations, as well as the discourses published on Facebook by Hungarian-language wedding planners, women's groups, and expert groups on credit management.¹ I also circulated several online questionnaires.² I recorded 40 in-depth interviews with brides-to-be during the COVID-19 pandemic, chiefly in 2020 and the first half of 2021. Voluntary participation in the research, and the social composition of the online groups examined, allowed me to obtain a better insight primarily into the lives of rural and urban, mainly middle-class women in their 20s and 30s with university degrees, who were more receptive and open to the topic than the average population (in terms of those getting married during pandemic), and who were genuinely motivated in the planning of their own weddings. The research findings thus apply primarily to them. The online fieldwork and questionnaire surveys were complemented by “real” fieldwork on a smaller scale. This involved participation in wedding exhibitions and Marriage Week³ events in Hungary, conducting interviews, taking photos, and making audio recordings. My principal question concerned the extent to which community and individual-level ritualization practices during the pandemic (and especially the ritual attempts at interpretation and reinterpretation underpinning them) can be seen as practices of resilience.

Demographic reports suggest some interesting correlations between the marriage rate and the number of divorces during the pandemic. While the marriage rate fell significantly during the pandemic in most countries — with a 37% drop in Japan, an 80% drop in Italy, and a dramatic decrease in the USA⁴ — in Hungary, despite the adverse circumstances, the number of marriages not only did not fall but actually increased. Compared to the 65,300 couples who married in 2019, the number of marriages in 2020 was 67,301 in 2020,⁵ representing a 3.1% increase. In 2021, the number of weddings continued to rise, with 72,000 couples getting married, representing an increase of 7.3% compared to the previous year.⁶ “It is more likely that an individual will abandon his or her notions about marriage than divorce a person who holds opposing views or who is incapable of marrying for other (religious, legal) reasons.” This is how a respondent to the 2020 Marriage Questionnaire 1 explained their by no means unique views on their motivations for getting married. Inverting the quote above, I also concluded from the results of the Hungarian marriage survey that I conducted between 2019 and 2022 that not only those who were keen to get married, but also those who had previously been against getting married or had previously been “incapable” of marrying, often changed their opposing views during the pandemic. This occurred at a time when the planning of marriages had been made particularly difficult and uncertain by the restrictions imposed due to the pandemic. It is worth mentioning that reports published in the media during the pandemic concerning the challenges of getting married frequently appeared under headlines such as Love/Marriage in the Time of Coronavirus.⁷ The analogy with Gabriel García Márquez's novel Love in the Time of Cholera was particularly apt. Just as it had done during the cholera epidemic that ravaged the Caribbean in the 1880s, so life went on during the global pandemic despite all the difficulties, and life-changing love affairs blossomed and were eventually fulfilled. However, not only were love stories realized but, in many cases, relationships and marriages also came to an end. The number of divorces also rose during the pandemic. Those wishing to put an end to their relationship did so in a variety of ways. According to the Hungarian Central Statistical Office, there had not been as many divorces for five years in Hungary as there were in 2021. In 2021, a total of 18,300 marriages ended in divorce, compared to 14,979 in 2020, and 17,600 in 2019.⁸ What explanation can there be for this increase? And is there a link between the two phenomena? My hypothesis is that the marriage “fever” and the (temporary) rise in the number of divorces was the result, or rather the indirect result, of the pandemic and of the availability of preferential loans. What do I mean by this?

The recently introduced family- and population-related policy measures, and the favorable family housing allowance and loans for new parents in particular, played an important role in increasing the number of marriages. These allowances and loans are conditional on marriage, marital status, and plans to start a family. Taking out a loan was included among the motivations for getting married during the pandemic. The results of my questionnaire on the strategies of those planning to marry or remarry during the COVID-19 pandemic (Covid Questionnaire 2) indicate that 41.6% of respondents were planning to have children, while 19.6% were (also) planning to marry so as to take out a (Babaváró, or family) loan; 18.6% indicated that they were planning to purchase, build, or expand a house using loans and/or money received in the form of wedding gifts; 3.1% of respondents cited various tax benefits as a motivating factor; while 2% of respondents reported that they were expecting a baby. At the same time, 89.6% of respondents also married for love, and 61.2% explained their intention to marry as a way of strengthening their relationship and making a commitment. In addition, 28.2% were motivated by religious considerations and were preparing to make their vows in church (as well), while 27.8% indicated a wish to celebrate their relationship by getting married.⁹ My interviews with women who were planning to marry suggested that credit and economic factors were basically of secondary importance to them. They consistently listed love among their main reasons. As I see it, the ideology of these women, which focused on love, emotions, and their own experiences of relationship, was also a way of conforming to the collective, global, love-based expectations of an ideal marriage.

Looking at the specific motivations and practices of divorce during the pandemic (the focus of my research allowed me to study the strategies of those who planned to divorce immediately before and during the pandemic, and those who remarried during this period), the following correlations were revealed. During the pandemic, the planning of divorce, and thinking about or making a mutual decision to end a marriage, were typically part of, or the final act of, an unexpected/sudden event (cheating, conflicts), or of a longer process of relational conflicts. In many cases, couples were keen for a legal resolution in the case of a marriage that, although not yet legally “terminated,” was nevertheless over in practical and symbolic terms — for example, because a subsequent wedding was being planned. International research indicates that in many cases the confinement of lockdown during the pandemic provided the final impetus for the dissolution of marriages that had already been experiencing difficulties earlier.¹⁰ My research demonstrated that this forced togetherness, as well as the general sense of uncertainty that accompanied the pandemic, led to conflicts and divorces in the long and short term, as well as to informal separations and separate living. However, in many cases it further strengthened the relationship: “Due to the uncertain situation, my fiancé and I faced some stressful periods that resulted in conflict. But fortunately, we managed to get through these difficulties, which further strengthened our relationship.”¹¹ The pandemic also had an impact on divorce in other ways. Just as it was not possible to organize weddings because of the government-imposed restrictions, so formal divorces could not be arranged for an extended period. This may also explain the increase in 2021, when the administrative process became easier with the lifting of the pandemic-related restrictions, making it likely that many divorces were settled that year, having been postponed from 2020. As we have seen in the case of marriage, besides the pandemic it was preferential loans that had an impact on divorce planning, albeit in the opposite direction. An existing loan made it more difficult to formally dissolve a marriage, as the favorable loan would be converted into a market-based loan in the event of divorce and significant punitive interest rates would be imposed on the officially divorced parties.

Besides, it is also important to recognize — and I base my further arguments primarily on the fact — that the marriage boom would not have occurred without collective and individual efforts towards the intensive reinterpretation of marriage and divorce rituals. Or rather, the rethinking and reconstruction of these rituals, and of the institution, were an inevitable consequence of the new context and conditions. The popularity of marriage in Hungary during the pandemic, and the parallel rise in the divorce rate, and especially the related social criticism and crisis discourse — that people marry out of interest and merely for the sake of preferential loans, and that marriages that are not based on love will end in divorce — triggered various reflections on the part of those planning to get married. Furthermore, the restrictions imposed during the pandemic almost compelled those planning to marry and those contemplating divorce to consider the rationale behind their decision to marry and the manner in which they wished the marriage to take place, and why and how they wished to dissolve their relationship, respectively. Couples had to decide whether a civil wedding or a traditional marriage service and a celebration with family and friends was more important to them; or whether they wanted a legal and official divorce or a separation with no legal proceedings.¹² In reflecting on their own marriage, engaged couples and newlyweds began to formulate and circulate plural responses and opinions, manifesting shared patterns, in relation to their reasons for getting married and the meanings they attributed to divorce and marriage. They also took concrete steps towards the realization and ritualization of those meanings through reinterpretations, “bricolages,” and other innovations.

According to Catherine Panter-Brick, resilient practices are primarily “bricolage” activities, in which social actors select from among their myriad (culturally and socially determined) aspirations, goals and (existing) values (Panter-Brick 2015:233) in an attempt to adapt to new challenges, crises, uncertainties, and difficulties. As is well known, for Lévi-Strauss “bricolage” is an analogy for the mythical thinking of traditional societies, and for the way in which cultural actors select the fragments or leftovers of previous cultural formations and redeploy them in new combinations (Lévi-Strauss 1996 [1962]; see also Johnson 2012). Thus, it does not mean simply the evocation of existing norms, values, and knowledge, but also encompasses their creative reinterpretations. Even in the case of marriages and divorces during the pandemic, it is possible to speak primarily of the bricolage and re-bricolage of “old things” (older, “traditional” values, norms, and rituals, i.e., “not-entirely-new normalities”), although in my experience, this was also complemented by the creation and individualized fine-tuning of very new norms (i.e., “new normalities”), values, and rituals. Furthermore, in many cases I observed that the old/new possibilities generated by the restrictions were often perceived as “new-abnormalities” and were thus often rejected as such.¹³

I think, or rather I suppose, that if the question were placed in a broader context and we were to raise Durkheim's notion of “collective effervescence,” we might come closer to an understanding of these phenomena. As several researchers have already observed, the period of the COVID-19 pandemic, with its new opportunities, rules, and constraints, was (also) a hotbed for “collective effervescence.”¹⁴ The concept of “collective effervescence” was initially coined by Émile Durkheim to describe the processes of secularization and individualization in Europe during the early twentieth century, in the years preceding the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918 (Malchiodi 2021). For Durkheim, collective effervescence was a process of sociocultural synchronization, in which emotions among the participants in religious rituals intensified, powerfully connecting individuals, welding them together, and creating cohesion among them. In this way, society enables people to cope with the vicissitudes of life (Pizzaro et al. 2022:1–2) and thus to achieve a kind of resilience. According to Durkheim, religious events can release vibrating energies that permeate those participating in the rituals, allowing them to share common experiences and emotions, which can also lead to a kind of euphoria (Durkheim 1915:212). Durkheim also believed that the heightened emotional state resulting from this intense form of collective effervescence leads the group to engage in creative innovation: to break rules, generate reinterpretations, dismantle old barriers and structures, and, to a far greater extent, attempt to create new structures (Durkheim 1915:215–221).¹⁵ In my research during the pandemic, I personally experienced a kind of collective effervescence in the planning and decision-making processes related to marriage, alongside, or rather in relation to, resilient practices, insofar as the practices of creative innovation, rule breaking, and other changes of direction and choice following the recognition of new-abnormalities can be understood in this way. The combined application of these concepts and theoretical frameworks may perhaps bring us closer to an understanding of the high rates of marriage and divorce and the reinterpretation and innovation or resilience practices that underlie them.¹⁶

In what follows, I will therefore attempt to provide as complex a picture as possible of the rituals related to marriage and divorce — or rather to the ending of relationships — during the pandemic. We will thus examine what happened to marriage and divorce rituals during the pandemic; the extent to which old or new practices and interpretations emerged; and how the people involved interpreted their various opportunities and barriers.

The re-bricolage of values, ideologies, and rituals during the pandemic

During the COVID-19 pandemic, brides-to-be often posed questions on online forums concerning the style (rural, urban, traditional, modern) and meanings of marriage and marriage-related ceremonies, civil weddings, and wedding receptions. At the same time, the question of the more general and specific norms, regulations, traditions, customs, fashions, and expectations related to marriage, and their relevance and applicability during the pandemic, was raised repeatedly. During the period of the pandemic, the reflexive and adaptive, individual and plural, and normative-regulatory definitions and reinterpretations of pre-COVID and post-COVID — that is, old and new, modern and traditional — marriage ceremonies were among the most topical and important issues for wedding service providers, policy makers, and those planning to get married. Consideration of such issues was an essential element in individual wedding planning and reorganization, in the transformation of wedding-related services, and in the legislative practice of regulating, and in some measure restricting, wedding ceremonies and receptions. Couples, and in some cases their families and friends, as well as those in the wedding industry, sought to adapt traditional and modern marriage-related practices to the new possibilities, in response to the new restrictions and to their own social needs. They began to select from among old and new, traditional and modern, national and international wedding practices and rituals. Couples tried to “invent,” or to create a “bricolage” or “re-bricolage,” of their own ideas in response to the changed legal and economic structures and contexts, using various marriage-related elements, rituals, norms, ideologies, and events that were perceived, identified, and recognized as modern or traditional, or as models or “anti-models” — that is, as counterpoints in the emic registers.

During the pandemic, the “fever” to reinterpret the meaning of marriage focused on the duration of marriage, the question of divorce, and the ideals of individualization and conservatism. Despite their awareness of the prevailing discourses on the decline and crisis in marriage, my interlocutors — the brides-to-be I encountered — contrasted these discourses primarily with their own relationship experiences. When those affected discussed divorce, they did not explain the deteriorating divorce statistics in terms of the perceived or real fashion for marriages of convenience: “I read comments claiming it's all because of there being so many marriages of convenience today. But such marriages were even more common in the past! And it was precisely shame that stopped people divorcing. One way or another, people stayed together to the end.”¹⁷ Indeed, I rather saw examples of how the worsening divorce statistics, and the intensity of the related discourse, essentially saved engaged couples from being compelled to think about marriage “lasting forever.” “The reason why there are so many divorces is that there's no longer any social stigma attached to it. Lots of couples used to live in unhappiness because it still wasn't acceptable to get divorced back then.”¹⁸ Such statements were made explicitly by brides-to-be on various online platforms. Janet Carsten writes that “in imagining or planning a future marriage, narrating a present one or assessing a marriage's history, explicit and implicit comparisons are made to other marriages — often of parents, grandparents and other relatives. Lives before and after marriage are compared; marital histories are set alongside the imagined path-not-taken. These comparisons invoke evaluative assessments, and offer morally inflected benchmarks of success or failure” (Carsten et al. 2021:5). Earlier examples of failed marriages ending in divorce, as observed among family and friends, and the influence of contemporary crisis discourses in public opinion, were also frequently highlighted by my interviewees. It was also clear that in cases where divorce was common, and perhaps even traumatic in the immediate family, it had an impact on the planning of an individual's own marriage. Despite all these experiences and fears, most of my interviewees decided to get married — for example, because they had shared earlier life experiences with their partner that had deepened and strengthened their love, making it clear that they could (and should) live together as a married couple. I observed that even brides-to-be who asked about others' fears related to divorce, and who described their concerns in the online groups that I followed, also opted to get married. Another set of reactions to the crisis discourse as well as to the deteriorating divorce statistics, and one that also applied to the women's own relationships, concerned the potential, envisaged duration of the relationship — whether the marriage would last forever (as in the past, when marriage was for life), or whether it would resemble the modern marriages of today, which often end in divorce. In other words, they suggested it would last as long as it lasted, until, for various reasons, their own marriage deteriorated and “one day” was over. According to my online ethnographic observations and questionnaire surveys, marriage is defined by those concerned as an institution based primarily on harmony, cooperation, mutual decisions, free will, and emotions, which can nevertheless be dissolved in the event of problems (infidelity, unhappiness), and which may sometimes mean “everything” and sometimes “nothing” (e.g., “Nothing as far as I'm concerned… We've been living happily for 16 years and have three children; we don't need the piece of paper”; “What does it mean? Everything!”).¹⁹ It simultaneously embodied the notion of a conservative, traditional institution, and one that is very modern and individualized — an institution that can last forever, or that can be broken up on demand.

The results of my study indicate that the complex changes in the meaning of marriage have affected both marriage rituals and the rituals related to the end of marriage, while, in the context of the specific reasons for divorce and separation (e.g., a wish to remarry, mere estrangement, or the acknowledgement that the earlier decision was wrong), they also influenced the scripts and interpretations of end-of-marriage rituals. Another of my conclusions is that the newer meanings and interpretations of divorce rituals (along with the reconsidered motivations for divorce) may also have influenced the practices and motivations for entering into marriage. Paradoxically, they have reinforced the functions and meanings of the institution of marriage.

Reconstructed marriage rituals during the pandemic

My questionnaire was designed to obtain information about the meanings attributed to marriage ceremonies during the pandemic. Fewer than half the respondents (42.5%) considered marriage as a true celebration of change (i.e., as a rite of passage marking a change in the relationship). The majority, 60.5%, described the complex ceremony as a celebration of love; 34.4% regarded it as a kind of sacrament; and 30.2% saw it as a celebration for family and friends (10.9% for family; 2.4% for friends); the remaining 14.9% of respondents considered the ceremony to be an occasion for the performative demonstration of social and relational success (uniqueness, celebration and ritualization specific to the couple, personality). If the complexity of the marriage ceremony is broken down, and individual marriages examined in terms of their significance and motivations, it becomes clear that during the pandemic (and presumably even before it), legal and economic factors that were occasionally important only to one member of the couple frequently prompted them to opt for a civil wedding (i.e., the marriage was a necessity for some reason), while religious motivations on the part of the bride-to-be prompted her to want her “big day,” including a church wedding. The couple's shared feelings and emotional motivations (e.g., romantic love) sometimes also led them to opt for an official civil wedding (they were eager to get married), and to organize a big day due to family or parental pressure. There was also frequent mention, or even a written explanation, of how the wedding was organized simply because they wanted to have a good time, to enjoy themselves among their family and friends, or to celebrate their successful relationship. But marriage might also mean merely getting the “paper,” a weekday civil wedding with two witnesses, if, for example, it was merely intended as a way of securing a loan, although, at the same time, it might be a genuine representation of the strengthening of security, trust, union, and of taking the relationship to a new level — a “real” or legal ritual, or rite of passage. Besides formal civil weddings, respondents often interpreted church weddings, wedding receptions, and confirmation ceremonies as genuine marriage rituals for religious, spiritual, individual, relationship-specific, and normative reasons. A marriage ceremony can be a means of demonstrating, affirming, and legitimizing an existing relationship (“ritualizing the routine”²⁰) or as a way of opening up something new from an already shared life: the next stage, or the next steps together. From what has been said thus far, it may have become apparent that the concept and identification of a “genuine” marriage ritual is varied and variable, although in most cases there must be something that is declared as authentic. It is also important to understand that the marriage ceremony (and its rituals and important events) is primarily constructed from personal, socially contextualized experiences, derived from the couple's actual relationship and close family circle and explained from this position. It also follows from the above that the couple's relationship is elevated to a higher, individual level through the marriage ceremony or the “big day” (the ceremony and/or church wedding) and the signing (of a paper), although, far more importantly, through the promises made to one another, the vows, the exchange of rings, the formalities, the ceremonies, and the celebration “shared” with others. The precise meaning of this progression to the next level depends on the specific conditions and on the biography of the relationship. It may mean moving in together (if the couple have not previously shared a home), starting a family (if they do not already have children together), purchasing a home (if they do not yet own property), having a closer, stronger relationship (if they feel that their relationship has been made stronger by marriage), or becoming a legal unit (e.g., if they have not previously had a shared debt). Everything thus (also) depends on the individual couple's earlier relationship. Marriage is thus interpreted in individual and particular ways, in close connection with the earlier relationship. This is the advice shared by the brides-to-be — that is, to take as their starting point their own relationship rather than contemporary social or genealogical (e.g. family) knowledge and experience — and this was also the suggestion given by wedding service providers.

How did marriages change during the COVID-19 pandemic? Weddings planners sought innovative solutions to the challenges posed by the pandemic, while also recognizing the potential applicability of solutions used in earlier, unconventional marriage practices. If couples did not postpone their marriages entirely during the quarantine period — the majority either followed this strategy, or waited it out — then the individual ceremonies, such as the civil wedding, church wedding, and wedding reception, were separated (25.6% held their civil wedding on the original date, while 5.8% brought the civil wedding forward). In order to ensure that the reception, held separately from the civil wedding, was a real celebration and “authentic” ritual, 18.1% of respondents requested a celebrant to perform a so-called confirmation ceremony (i.e., a ritual that imitates, or rather replaces and partly repeats, the civil wedding), 13.4% postponed their church wedding along with the wedding reception, and 2.5% added a church wedding to their original plans.

During the pandemic, I observed two reorganization strategies — on the one hand, the rejection of earlier practices (pre-pandemic rituals and ideologies) or “traditions” and the incorporation of related innovations; and, on the other hand, the motivation to reorganize weddings by evoking earlier norms and traditions. In such cases, the evoked, reinterpreted, and adapted traditions were rather seen as preferred models, norms, and adaptive models, and were given positive connotations. These two strategies were not necessarily mutually exclusive, even in the case of the same wedding. The marriage practices most characteristic of the pandemic period were a specific mix of innovation and reference to tradition.

During the second wave, from September to November 2020, wedding receptions could be held, conforming to the curfew between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m. This limited freedom lasted until mid-November. Then, until the spring of 2021, wedding receptions were again banned, with the exception of civil weddings with a small number of participants. In the fall of 2020, this brief period of “regulated weddings” again gave rise to creative solutions. In most cases, couples attempted to streamline and transform the “classic” wedding scenarios during this period. They tried to group certain events, eliminate unnecessary rituals, and reduce the ritual time devoted to the individual practices. The situation highlighted the question of important, less important, or expendable ritual practices. In other words, the interpretation of marriage ceremonies thematized what was essential to a proper marriage ceremony, “authentic” ritualization, and a celebratory experience. The simplest and most obvious way to replan the reception was to bring the timing forward. This, of course, required flexibility on the part of the service providers and guests. In other words, if the ceremony was brought forward, and thus the reception could start earlier, all the important events could be completed before the curfew came into effect. Besides starting the celebration earlier, a number of other ideas were proposed as a way of reducing the size of the wedding. In the case of weddings held in catering establishments, besides bringing the starting time forward, as mentioned above, the rationalization of events and the elimination of potential “idling time” were seen as the most important organizational aspects.

As already mentioned, the postponement of the wedding reception and the cancellation of certain services were also introduced as opportunities for adaptation. Postponing and finding a new date acceptable to all parties also gave rise to many conflicts. While couples insisted on the most popular, “classic” days (Fridays, Saturdays, or possibly Sundays), wedding providers tended to prefer weekdays. “The date probably won't suit the photographer and videographer, even if it's good for the venue”;²² “The confectioner, the master of ceremonies, and the decorator may not be available for the new date.”²³ Service providers often had to be changed because their businesses did not survive the economic hardships of the pandemic: “In fact, the restaurant and the wedding dress rental closed; that wasn't a big problem, as wedding receptions weren't permitted by law. The cosmetician, hairdresser, photographer, DJ, master of ceremonies, and confectioner were all very understanding about it. We hope everyone will be OK with the new date…”²⁴ Previous decisions also meant replanning services, if, for example, the couple changed, or planned to change, the schedule for the wedding and reception: “Master of Ceremonies, DJ [i.e., cancelled] (videographer only half-cancelled, contract needs to be changed, a smaller wedding means less work, and the same goes for the confectioner)”.²⁵

One of the most typical examples of the use of earlier, unconventional marriage practices as quasi-norms was the separation and separate celebration of the civil wedding and the big day (the day of the wedding reception and/or the day decided as the “real” wedding day). This meant separating small, personal wedding ceremonies from the big wedding receptions. Small-scale, two-witness civil ceremonies held in advance, and the associated big days (celebrated days, months, or years later) — receptions and commitment ceremonies, the later profane rituals representing rituality and the marriage ceremony — have already been part of marriage practice in Hungary for many years. Simple, puritanical, formal marriages with few participants, or held entirely privately — so-called mini- or micro-marriages, minimonies, or elopements — which became particularly popular during the pandemic, were likewise unconventional marriage ceremonies that had earlier international parallels. The restrictions affecting wedding receptions during the pandemic also led to the practice of small, more intimate civil weddings, while the large wedding receptions were held on a separate date from the micro-wedding: this became one of the most prevalent practices in the “new normality.”

In what follows, I will examine the strategies of those who postponed their wedding during the pandemic and who held the reception later, once the restrictions had been lifted; and of those who deliberately organized a small wedding during, or even after the restrictions. I will also present examples of how the two strategies were combined, as well as the reasons and circumstances behind the decision made by some couples to hold a big wedding reception following a smaller, puritanical wedding ceremony. The results of my survey on the impact of the pandemic on wedding planning indicate that it was primarily those who required the paperwork as soon as possible who held a small, two-witness civil wedding during the three-month quarantine period, separately from the wedding reception. For these couples, the timing of the wedding was important, because of starting a family (7.8%) and/or due to taking out a loan (10%). A further 27.5% of respondents indicated that they simply did not want to wait any longer or to further postpone their long-planned, overdue wedding. In fact, 8.8% of respondents expressed satisfaction with their puritan wedding, describing it as being just “about them,” which was what mattered most. The majority of respondents — who were not satisfied with a small-scale wedding and who thus postponed their reception, or rather both the civil wedding and the reception, or who just “waited it out” — mostly tried to stick to their original plans (47.4%), seeing the wedding as a celebration with family and friends that they would have found meaningless in the framework of a narrower, puritanical civil wedding, without service providers, as if the real ritual had not taken place. A total of 36.3% of respondents described the wedding as a family celebration, while 36.8% also stated that it was important for them to make their vows and promises in front of family and friends. Furthermore, 2.9% of respondents mentioned that not only they but also their parents insisted on a public, large-scale, wedding ceremony and reception with the involvement of service providers.

The pandemic-related restrictions were often used to justify ideas that diverged from those of the community or family. The restrictions came in handy for those who, for financial reasons (not wanting to spend a lot) or personal reasons (not wanting to be at the center of attention at their wedding, or not wanting to play various unpleasant wedding games at the reception), did not wish to organize a big event merely to meet social expectations or because the wedding guests and family were counting on it, but who had always wanted a small, intimate, and personal wedding and who were now easily able to realize this aspiration due to the restrictions. After all, during the COVID-19 pandemic, such weddings became normal, fashionable, and normative. Couples tried to substitute “real,” “traditional” weddings with these downscaled weddings that evoked traditional big weddings in certain details.

Another cohort of couples who rejected, or who were unable to internalize, the old/new normality of small weddings, regarding them as the new-abnormality, postponed their wedding (often several times) to a date when they hoped to be in a position to go ahead with a full-scale wedding. Reference to large-scale weddings and their tradition as a model also proved to be a narrative strategy during COVID-19 when arguing for an earlier-, pre-restriction-style wedding, and for their own ideas. This is how it became a tool of collective resistance, for example. Thousands of comments — made by signatories to several online petitions demanding that wedding receptions be held during the period of restrictions — referred to wedding-related customs in Hungary, arguing that wedding receptions are an indispensable, traditional part of getting married and are even essential from a moral, customary, and emotional point of view. In dozens of comments, reference was also made to tradition, customs, and traditional receptions, the point being that by holding a wedding reception, couples were merely wanting to observe traditions and customs. “I'm signing, because I think it's appropriate to preserve traditions”; “We'd like to do the traditional thing of holding a wedding reception along with the civil ceremony”; “I wanted this to be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion, and to experience it in the traditional way with family and friends”;²⁷ “I'm signing, because our big day will be on 18 July, with 30 guests, and we'd like to have the usual reception”; “I'd like to have a wedding and a reception, as is customary in Hungary.”²⁸

Thus, a common strategy emerged whereby couples would supplement their simple, mini-weddings with large-scale, “real” receptions and officiated confirmation ceremonies once the restrictions were lifted. Those who thought in terms not just of a formal mini wedding but also of a large wedding reception at a later date aimed to provide a truly celebratory, communal experience for family and friends on the second occasion, thereby meeting the various family and social expectations. Thus, the acceptance or rejection of separated weddings — that is, the civil and/or church wedding and the wedding reception held on two separate days — as the normality was also part of the process of rethinking. During the rethinking, a plan A or B often arose: either to bring the date of the official wedding forward or to hold it on the original date, and to postpone the reception to a time when larger celebrations were permitted.

On the basis of the above, it can be said that the smaller, two-witness civil ceremonies that were brought forward, and the big days that complemented them at a later date — the wedding receptions and the newer profane rituals, the commitment ceremonies, representing their rituality — were not a product of innovations during the COVID-19 pandemic but had already been part of Hungarian marriage practices for many years. However, their popularity increased significantly during the COVID-19 pandemic, and their former sporadic occurrence became a trend, being a practice that could easily be integrated into the world of quarantine weddings. The couples affected began to internalize and make use of these rituals, along with the associated narratives. The practice of holding a separate wedding at an earlier date also fitted in with the needs of both marriages that were organized (also) for administrative and financial reasons, and for smaller, intimate weddings held for personal reasons.

Reconstructed divorce and other “end-of-relationship rituals” during the pandemic

My findings indicate that attempts at reinterpretation during the pandemic not only affected marriage and marriage-related rituals but also influenced “end-of-marriage” rituals. The social and individual acceptance of the modified, often newly interpreted divorce rituals, as well as the often unofficial “divorce” practices that signaled the end of a relationship to family and friends, had an impact on the meanings of marriage rituals, too: “We got married in front of two witnesses, in jeans, on a Monday morning [i.e., a two-witness mini wedding J.B.]. We can easily get divorced, since we didn't give much thought to the wedding.”²⁹ Thus, just as a smaller (personal, more intimate) divorce, devoid of external rituals, seemed a legitimate and sensible choice for couples who thought in terms of a smaller wedding, so the announcement of a divorce — by analogy with a big wedding — took place with the ritualized involvement of relatives and friends. A good number of other variations also occurred, as the specific interpretations of divorce rituals added further nuance to the picture. The rituals marking the end of a relationship were not isolated events but rather parts/constituents of a diverse process made up of several acts. The process, and the rituals themselves, were preceded by a period of serious reflection and accompanied by multiple decisions: Was there a need for a formal divorce document? Was a specific divorce-related rite of passage required for personal or family reasons? This leads us to an examination of how the meanings of divorce and end-of-marriage rituals have evolved over time.

As in the case of marriage, the meanings and significance of end-of-relationship rituals are influenced by the earlier stages of the relationship. For example, the biographical aspect — that is, the new level of the relationship, or the new dimensions that getting married added to the pre-marriage qualities of the relationship, was extremely important: Had the couple lived together before getting married? Did they share a house or other property before they were married? Did they have a child (or children) before getting married or during the marriage? Did the marriage strengthen the relationship? Did they purchase a house or take out a loan together while married? Did they have joint assets? Did they actually live together, or did the marriage represent no real change or transition? All of these dimensions influenced the perceived, real, hoped-for, and expected changes effected by the end-of-marriage rituals. Thus, for example, according to the related interpretations, end-of-relationship rituals can, on the one hand, dissolve the emotional-economic alliance established by means of marriage, not merely in terms of the new relationships and structures sanctified by marriage but also by fundamentally deconstructing the relationship, and even restoring it to the level before the couple became acquainted. The spouse can become a stranger, or a contextualized stranger (ex, former spouse), as can his or her family, relatives, and friends. But, as many pointed out, after a divorce the parties can also continue life as friends. In such cases, many aspects of life can remain shared: the raising of children (alternating residency, shared custody), movable and immovable property, debts and credit, as well as friends and relatives. I also found many examples of where divorce essentially no longer meant a transition (or only from a legal point of view), but, as we have seen in the case of interpretations of marriage, was merely a way of ritualizing changes or a routine that had already taken place, legitimizing and finalizing the “status quo.”³⁰

I documented various types and modes of end-of-relationship rituals. One such ritual was separation; the official announcement(s) of separation/divorce emerged as an independent ritual; while official, civil divorce, or even, where required, the annulment of a church marriage, were also thematized as a legal-emotional ritual “par excellence”. My results show that official divorce(s) often took place only after a long period of time and were primarily prompted by new relationships, and especially by the wish or need to remarry (e.g., motivated by taking out a loan, or, in the case of an existing or planned pregnancy, the securing of paternity by divorce and/or remarriage),³¹ or by other triggers of divorce (cheating, violence, bad relationship). “I'm getting a divorce from my husband, which is unlikely to be settled this year, especially if quarantine is reintroduced, which would obviously affect the court hearings. We're both in a new relationship. I'm pregnant, and my partner and I are expecting our baby at the end of December. As it is, the baby would be given my husband's name, but we don't want that to happen. (…) According to the registrar, a declaration of paternity is not a solution; the baby can be given its real father's name only after the divorce. If anyone can help, I'd be very grateful!”³² “File for divorce, mentioning that you're pregnant by another man, and request priority treatment. Immediately after the divorce, get an appointment to marry the baby's father; you can apply for priority here too, so you don't have to wait 30 days and you can get married before the baby is born. You don't have any other option. If you don't do this, it's 10,000% certain that the baby will be registered in your current husband's name. There's no loophole. And it'll cause further complications down the line.”³³

Practical and emotional motives (child custody, questions of the division of assets, acceptance of the fact of separation, grieving for the relationship) together determined the length of time before the divorce. In the case of an amicable separation, the actual, formal divorce might take several years, or may sometimes never happen. As already mentioned above, in the case of couples who got married after 2019 but who were already planning to divorce, responsibility for loans taken out jointly made the already complex situation even more complicated: their end-of-relationship rituals were not characterized by formal divorce but tended to postpone or delay it. Postponing the formal divorce was necessary because these favorable loans (granted on condition of getting married and starting a family) are converted into ordinary market loans in the event of divorce, thus officially divorced parties are also subject to substantial punitive interest. In the online groups examined, people often asked what could be done if a couple wanted to divorce for emotional reasons, but an existing loan would mean significant financial losses and additional expenses. Responses to such questions outlined the alternatives: a financially unfavorable formal divorce (that settled the relationship emotionally, putting a “real” end to the relationship); or a non-official (more emotionally burdensome but financially practical) symbolic and practical step, such as living separately, omitting the legal and other bureaucratic rituals. The couples concerned generally weighed up precisely these two options: “Last September, we took out a 10 million forint loan. We had a baby this year, so the loan was supposed to be interest free. But now it seems we're heading for divorce. How will it work out? We have a four-month-old baby and the repayments have been suspended. Suppose we get divorced in January, will we have to start paying instalments again in January, with interest on top? How much would that be per month? Is there a loophole of some kind? If we don't get divorced but merely separate will the zero interest still apply?”³⁴

Divorce, or more specifically official divorce “par excellence” during the pandemic, was thus often preceded, or occasionally replaced, by a kind of liminal, transitional phase: long- or short-term separation, or, more specifically, the rituals of separation and living apart (not necessarily a one-off act but often a succession of gradual steps). At the same time, the multifaceted motivations mentioned above may have encouraged or facilitated continued cohabitation, under the same roof, with qualitative and substantive changes, under new rules: where separation would have been financially burdensome, couples found ways to use their home jointly, for example by sleeping in separate bedrooms. Importantly, the meanings of temporary or permanent separation might change several times during this process. The parties, as well as their children, their families and friends, and potentially their new partners, might sometimes also have different interpretations of the process and the events associated with moving out or continuing to live together, depending on the situation. Separation and living separately, along with all the other factors, sometimes represented a de facto liminality, which, in the context of later decisions by those concerned, presented a variety of options for moving forward — starting over, continuing the marriage, moving back together again; or even finalizing the new relationship and the separation — although in some cases it might also mean a real “ritual” closure, a real “completed” a transition. In the latter case, living separately was also interpreted as a true end-of-relationship ritual — either during the preparations for moving out and the actual move, or even retrospectively; and might take the form of an actual, material and/or emotional transition.

Another important aspect is the series of practical events initiated by the “ritual” of separation. These might include the apportioning of goods and possessions, the destruction or concealment of jointly owned objects, the official departure from the original dwelling place, and the making and occupying of a new home. I also came across numerous examples of the destruction or “burial” (packing away) of objects, souvenirs, and mementos of the marriage: on such occasions, wedding albums, wedding ceremony paraphernalia (sand, liquids, candles, etc.) were discarded or put in some out-of-the-way place (a box, the attic, the bottom of a cupboard). This might be the result of both individual or joint actions. The fact of separation is thus often interpreted as the “real” divorce, while on other occasions it is seen as a delay in the divorce and a postponement of decisions. Both narrative representations may be useful, emotionally satisfying, and reassuring, although they can also be problematic — for example because they lack any sense of closure. Thus, many people thought in many different ways about the ending of their marriage, just as they did about what it meant to get married.

The length of the separation, or the period spent apart, was also determined by the length of formal divorce proceedings that had already been initiated. Thus, a crucial aspect is when, and after how much reflection, the parties involved initiate, if indeed they do initiate, formal divorce proceedings (filing for divorce and dividing up property). The act of filling in, signing, and mailing the divorce papers (filing for divorce) was also often interpreted as a ritual (the closure of something and the beginning of something else). The acts of communication and ritualization, typically undertaken in written and oral form, were often accompanied by other non-textual practices (drinking a toast, shaking hands). The length of the divorce process is also influenced by whether or not the couple have any young children or shared property acquired during the marriage. In the absence of these, and especially where there is a marriage contract, a formal divorce can be carried out relatively quickly, after a few months of preparation, in one go, by means of a formal procedure that lasts a few minutes. As with the civil ceremony itself, which is a legal ritual taking a few minutes (in the case of small weddings, this itself is the marriage), the formal divorce process can also put a rapid but legal end to what had earlier been equally quickly established (the fees and costs for both “rituals,” excluding extras, are approximately the same). In the case of shared children and property, however, especially in the absence of a mutual agreement, a divorce can proceed as a series of lengthy, multi-round lawsuits, towards the goal, the rituals of ending. In these cases, the lengthy procedure, the involvement of lawyers, and the court as an official body, as well as the obligation to give evidence, have been interpreted as inversions of the marriage ritual: as torture, punishment, and pillorization. Again, in other instances the process contained the potential for a genuine transition, representing a (legal) rite of passage, according to which the psychological, material, status-related, and legal changes have to be worked for, which is burdensome but guarantees change, genuine closure, and the hope of a new beginning. In the examined online forums, questions were often raised about the length of the divorce procedure and its psychological effects: How long does a divorce take? What are the legal steps? How stressful is it? How can a person cope psychologically? Does it really bring emotional closure? How does one feel afterwards? What does it mean, etc.? Thus, on the studied online platforms and in my questionnaires, divorce was interpreted in different ways during and after the ritualization of the divorce, while distinctions were also made among its various ritual elements. These elements included the litigation itself, preparation for it, the states that followed, and the myriad closing and incorporating rituals once the divorce was pronounced. These included silence, celebration (rarely noisy, usually quiet) either alone or among small groups of family and friends, or posts on social media (e.g., “I'm free,” “At last it's over’), as well as further legal and symbolic steps (e.g. a change of name, removal of the ring, etc.), the experience of living alone, looking for a new partner, dating, etc.

Let us look briefly at the practices of celebration following the legal procedures. I found many examples of quiet celebrations, both alone and in the company of others: “Well, I opened a bottle of champagne when I got divorced; I made sure of that, because there was a lot more to it than going into an office, getting a divorce, and that's that”; “I couldn't wait to get divorced; for 12 years I'd done whatever I could to change the relationship. When I finally got divorced, I celebrated with my friends.”³⁵ At this point, I would like to mention briefly that the divorce ceremonies and divorce parties held among family and friends that have become popular in Western Europe and Japan have not yet become the new norm or “fashion” in Hungary, although various newspaper articles and couples' therapists regularly write about such events. In my opinion, there are several reasons why this pattern has not yet been adopted. Although, rather than being considered shameful, divorce is now socially acceptable, it is still perceived as a failure by those involved. While marriage is a celebration of the success of a relationship and of happiness, divorce indicates a failed relationship. Nevertheless, there is a growing narrative according to which divorce is a form of success, of putting one's life on a new footing, when one can bring closure to a relationship that has not worked out well and was beyond repair: “There are marriages where divorce should also be celebrated with a divorce party, where the couple might even be given gifts in the hope of a new and happy life.” However, feelings of grief and loss, or a combination of joy with a sense of guilt, are more common: “Of course, it's a reflex to make a big show of our happiness while being reluctant to discuss our failures. It's perfectly normal. But staying together for the sake of a piece of paper or a child is not!”; “I believe such matters are private. Why should people not celebrate? Well, a divorce is a failure on both sides, to some extent. In my case, my first divorce was a huge relief.”³⁶

Finally, I will briefly touch on cases of church divorce that were relatively rare in Hungary (at least in the examined period). (This procedure is required only in the case of Roman Catholics and those planning a Catholic church wedding — including those who have previously been married according to the Protestant rite.)³⁷ This church ritual, which is at the same time a legal and spiritual step, was required in the following cases: a heartfelt desire, and the desire for a church wedding in the event of remarriage. In the event that a couple who is planning to remarry, or one member of a couple or their family wishes to have a church wedding, and one or both parties have already had a church wedding, the following options are available: they either get married according to the Protestant rite, or they begin the process of obtaining the annulment of their previous marriage(s). “My second marriage took place after my girlfriend converted from Catholicism to the Reformed faith (she had to be confirmed), and we were married in a Reformed church without any further ado.”³⁸ “[An annulment] might be granted on the grounds of immaturity, for example. It must be proved that, at the time of the marriage, neither party was ready to fulfill the purposes of marriage because they lacked maturity in love. It's a long and tedious process. It has to be initiated in the local parish, from where the parish priest forwards the case to the next level. The process takes at least two years. (I'll start it one day, not so much because of the marriage but for emotional reasons).”³⁹

Below, I present one case in greater detail from among the examples I came across during my research. The selected example is not only an illustration of annulment in a church divorce — the process and method of the actual church divorce ritual (with its limited possibilities, impediments, and motivations) — but also essentially points to the possible correlations between divorce rituals and the rituals of (previous and new/planned) marriage. In effect, it highlights what I have already repeatedly stressed — that divorce in the examined period (characterized by high rates of divorce and remarriage) was often motivated by planned new marriages. This also suggests that the rituals influenced and depended on each other.

In 2021, a bride-to-be in one of the wedding planning groups that I studied posed a question to other brides-to-be and to wedding service providers. Her wedding date was rapidly approaching. The planned marriage ceremony was to include the following rituals: a formal wedding attended by close family (a micro-wedding with a small wedding reception and dinner); while the church wedding for the extended family and friends was to be the public ritual. At the same time, the groom's “ex” in the legal sense, or his “current” wife in the eyes of the church, was, according to the post, obstructing the church divorce, or making it impossible. It was becoming increasingly certain that the wished-for church marriage would no longer be feasible. “What can I do with the people whom I wanted to invite only to the church ceremony (in Budapest)? I can't drag people out there [i.e., to the countryside — J.B.] for a 20- or 30-minute civil ceremony when they're not invited to the dinner and the party… I've been crying for hours…”⁴⁰ The other brides-to-be suggested the solution of holding a pseudo-civil, confirmation ceremony (in some sacred and/or beautiful location) to which the bigger crowd of guests would be invited: “Try to find a nice ruined church or a nice open space and get a master of ceremonies or a good friend to conduct a ceremony.” Some also suggested having the confirmation ceremony at the reception venue, and making the official civic ceremony in the city a public event: “How about reorganizing the civil [wedding] near the church? [In the countryside — J.B.] There wouldn't be a ceremony: at most you could scatter some sand.” The possibility of marrying in a different, Protestant denomination was also raised: “An alternative would be to have the ceremony in another denomination and another church.”⁴¹ In the end, the Catholic wedding ceremony did not take place, which also had repercussions on the planned church divorce/annulment process. Once the marriage had taken place, there was no longer any need for a church “divorce,” thus the respective planning was abandoned.

Conclusion: collective effervescence and resilience during the pandemic

The results of my research indicate that the collective innovative experiments and reinterpretations related to divorce and marriage rituals during the pandemic were a means of realizing individual aspirations and ideas. Rather than merely postponing or going ahead with their weddings, or deciding one way or another about divorce, people thought extremely tactically. Despite, or rather even amidst the changed circumstances, they endeavored to stick to their “original” ideas while sometimes abandoning certain expectations and replacing them with new ones — thus, by reorganizing and rearranging events, they “created” new, appropriate, “real” rituals. As earlier social structures, norms, social roles, ideals, and rituals lost their validity, new norms, ideologies, and old/new rituals and new structures were introduced.

What are these old/new structures? And how do the old/new rituals and interpretations of marriage and divorce relate to one another? While public opinion, and, for a long time, academic discourse concluded, on the basis of deteriorating divorce statistics, as well as from the weaking of the social norms that have historically governed marriage (i.e., individualization) and the increasing number of common-law relationships, that marriage has lost its institutional character (see Cherlin 2004; Lauer – Yodanis 2010), for my own part I regard the (growing) demand for the performance of divorce and various end-of-marriage rituals (and especially legal rituals) as an indication that marriage and marriage ceremonies still have meaning (or have once again come to have meaning). What can be dismantled only by rituals (of transition and other) can be created and “sanctified” only by rituals (of transition and other). Furthermore, we have also seen that lawful, legal marriage rituals were often delayed, and that formal divorces were primarily prompted by extraordinary circumstances (e.g., remarriage, pregnancy). Non-“official” end-of-relationship rituals mean not only transition but a great many other things. As we have seen, this is also true in the case of marriage rituals. Thus, divorce and marriage rituals can mean everything or nothing, and, as I see it, their meanings and functions are mutually influential in myriad ways (especially at individual level). Which one we observe is merely a matter of perspective: but as long as there is marriage, there will also be divorce, and if there is divorce, there will most certainly be marriage. In his paper The Marriage-Go-Round, Cherlin attributes the cyclic nature of American relationships (several repeated short- and long-term relationships and periods of singleness, frequent divorces, marriages and remarriages) — “the merry-go-round of relationships” — to the parallel adoption of two conflicting cultural ideals: marriage and individualism (Cherlin 2010). This is not exactly the case here, although it is certain that the tension and contradiction between the two ideals and the values culturally attached to marriage, marriage ceremonies, and end-of-marriage rituals and institutions are diminishing (essentially as a result of bricolage).

I argue that these community and individual practices of bricolage, carried out in the paradoxical context of uncertainty, planning difficulties, restrictions, and government subsidies during the pandemic, are indeed unique examples of individual and community/collective resilience. At the same time, they can be interpreted as examples of successful strategies of adaptation to new challenges and difficulties, and as the realizations and fine-tunings of interests and personal desires, in so far as we are talking about a balancing act between old values and norms; while alternatively they can be regarded as practices of collective effervescence, if we prefer to argue in favor of recent innovations. In my opinion, these two concepts together explain the high rates of divorce and marriage during the pandemic.⁴² This might also direct our attention to the need for a theoretical bridging of the gap between tradition and innovation, and to the fact that the divergent practices of innovation and tradition-constitution cannot be separated. Resilience is essential for the acceptance of old practices and values, and, at the same time, for the acceptance of new rituals and ideologies.

Judit Balatonyi earned her PhD as part of the European Ethnology and Cultural Anthropology Program at the Interdisciplinary Doctoral School (University of Pécs, Hungary) in 2016. She is an assistant professor in the Department of European Ethnology – Cultural Anthropology at the University of Pécs. She is the author of the 2017 book A gyimesi lakodalmak: Közös kultúra és különböző identitások? (Weddings in Gyimes: Common Culture and Particular Identities?), published in Budapest. Her current research project is “Marriage and divorce rituals in Hungary in the 21st century,” the goal of which is to study the changing meanings, patterns, roles, and functions of marriage at multiple sites and in various social and political milieus in twenty-first-century Hungary.