Is the speculator and philanthropist a one-man foreign-policy machine or an unregulated billionaire with a messiah complex?
On a recent visit to Budapest, George Soros stood across the street from the apartment building where he had lived until he was fourteen, when, during the Nazi occupation, he and other members of his family assumed false identities and went into hiding. The stately building overlooked a small square, full of foliage, and the Danube, just beyond. Soros pointed to a large casement window with a view high enough to clear the trees, and, turning to his twenty-three-year-old son, Jonathan, who was standing beside him, told him that he used to sit there for hours at a time, watching the river flow by. It made a nice tableau—and a cameraman from a British television crew that was working on a documentary about Soros, the multibillionaire speculator and philanthropist, captured it. It has become something of a ritual for Soros, accompanied by camera crews, to visit this site, or the cellar where he hid, or the apartment building where his father constructed another hideout. Just then, a tour bus rolled slowly by. Soros glanced at it, and suddenly burst out laughing, exclaiming to his son, “I can just hear the tour director saying, ‘And there is Soros, explaining his life.’ ”