Anyone who has visited a theatre away from their homeland will know that curtain call customs differ greatly from country to country. In some places people clap politely a few times and head home, while other audiences are more prone to long cheers or standing ovations. But even as a wandering theatregoer, I had not suspected that Hungary has a seemingly unique custom: synchronised applause.

When fellow Springbackers first came up to me enthusiastically after a performance and asked: ‘Do you guys always do this after a show?’, I didn’t even understand what they were referring to. Synchronised clapping is so inherent to the Hungarian theatre experience that we’re not even aware of it any more: it just happens. But where does it come from, and should we feel good or bad about it?

The answer to the first question is that it’s a bit of a mystery. Most theories connect it with the highly regulated and choreographed political gatherings of the Communist era – but this would suggest that it still exists in other post-communist countries too. Based on my survey among fellow Springbackers from or familiar with the theatre life of such countries (e.g. Romania, Bulgaria, Slovakia), this is not the case – it seems to be a Hungarian cultural phenomenon. On the other hand, the association with an unpleasant past might be why some Hungarian spectators do feel uncomfortable about clapping in unison: a quick search in Színház magazine’s online archive shows that Hungarian critics of the past decades have labelled synchronised applause boring, forced or dishonest. 

While critics have had their reservations, scientists have been fascinated. A 2000 study published in the journal Nature researched the phenomenon, drawing parallels from the fields of physics and biology, such as the synchronised flashing of fireflies in Southeast Asia or the unison swinging of pendulums hanging on the same wall. Albert László Barabási, one of the leaders of the research, describes Hungarian synchronised clapping like this: at first, everyone in the audience is clapping at a different rate (about four or five claps a second), then they start slowing down to half that rate to adjust to others, until after about half a minute everyone is clapping together. This cycle is spontaneously repeated about seven or eight times. And just as fireflies can create magic together – a beacon that can be seen from miles away – synchronised applause is very powerful too: ‘When everyone claps at the same time, you get a much stronger sound effect,’ says Barabási. 

But what if you’re still not convinced and want to rebel? Well, it won’t be easy. Barabási and his team tried to disrupt the synchronised applause by clapping to a different beat, but they failed. ‘You can’t not do it,’ says the physicist. ‘It’s the psychology of the mob.’ 

Some things appear very different if you’re looking at them through the lens of others. Csaba Králl, editor of Színház magazine mentions a case when Hungarian synchronised clapping made even famously pokerfaced Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker smile. That, together with the cheerful reactions of my fellow Springbackers, convinced me that it’s something to be proud rather than ashamed of.