A Bitter Anniversary

Fifty years on, the wounds from the Hungarian Revolution still have not healed

Fifty years ago the bi-polar world split between the Soviet Union in the east and the United States in the west was shaken to its foundations. A tiny country in Central Europe dared to stand up in defiance. The threat to the status quo was such that those who professed to support people willing to fight for their freedom suddenly and ignominiously looked the other way. As a result, what began as hope for a new beginning ended in a bloody tragedy.

Given such a past, it should come as little surprise that those who had lived through the events of fifty years ago harbour with them a sense of bitterness -- even betrayal. These feelings often manifest themselves in the cynicism they have toward the west. Subsequent world events since the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 seem to add a measure of justification to these attitudes.

With the internal collapse of communism in Central and Eastern Europe in the late 1980s, it would have been assumed that the events of 1956 would have found their proper place within the social consciousness of the country. Unfortunately, this has not been the case.

The Living Past

There are still a large number of those who lived through the Hungarian Revolution of 1956, although their numbers are dwindling with the years. Most of them were children at the time; indeed, one the main features of the Hungarian Revolution was that it was primarily a revolution of youth. Children as young as 10 years old took an active part in the fighting. Likewise, many of them were also its victims in the aftermath. Countless of incidents have been recorded of young boys and girls captured by Soviet troops who were placed against a wall and summarily executed.

For those who witnessed their own friends, relatives, and comrades dying in front of their own eyes, it's hard for them to fully comprehend the world they live in today. What is perhaps most painful is that the children of the oppressors -- that is, those responsible either directly or indirectly for the regime of the past -- are sitting comfortably in positions of power and influence.

Indeed, what is nothing less than a slap in the face to those who lived and fought through the events of 1956 is the fact that the ideological heirs and relatives of the past regime are the very same ones who are now conducting the 1956 commemorations. For instance, the grandfather of prime minister Ferenc Gyurcsany's wife, Antal Apro, is the very same person who had proudly stood up in parliament in 1958 and announced the death of Imre Nagy, considered by many as one of the main leaders of the revolution and who was subsequently hanged.

For some, the fact that there exists a political class made of former elements of the previous regime and their children is something which is too hard to bear. To make matters worse, many of these people of the former regime are presently held in high esteem by western governments.

A prime example is Gyula Horn, former foreign minister in the last communist government and prime minister from 1994-1998. He is highly regarded in Germany for his supposed role in allowing East German refugees to cross into the west. In fact, a state medal was even created in his honour. All this despite the fact that Horn's influence on the events of 1989 was minimal; he was merely bowing to the inevitable, as people were already crossing over the border anyway. Aside from this, what the German government doesn't realise -- or pretends not to realise -- is that this medal of freedom is in the name of someone who was also a member of the worker's militia fifty years ago, and who took an active part in suppressing the 1956 revolution.

There are countless other such examples of individuals who have either a direct or indirect link to the sordid regime of the past and who now make up the political class of the present. This political class also extends beyond Hungary's borders. The Hungarian EU Commissioner responsible for Taxation and Customs, Laszlo Kovacs, was a former head of the Hungarian Communist Youth Movement and a Central Committee member of the former regime.

In addition to this, there are a number of non-Hungarian individuals who also have had a similar effect. The most notable of these is Giorgio Napolitano, the current president of Italy, who in 1956 was a leading member of the Italian Communist Party. Although he claims to have changed his views since, he then nevertheless toed the party line, considering the insurgents not only as counter-revolutionaries but also as "thugs" and "agent provocateurs". In many respects, Napolitano went further adding that he was glad the Red Army had put down the revolution the way they did. Placing a wreath on the grave of Hungarian freedom fighters only added to the anger and pain many felt during his recent visit to Hungary.

Given all this, the bitterness of many who had lived through the events of 1956 is quite understandable. Although strikes continued for some time after the communists regained power, the population was basically starved into submission. Moreover, with the onset of winter, energy supplies were used as a further weapon in order to pacify the general public.

As the new communist government of Janos Kadar regained control with the help of Soviet forces in November 1956, the crackdown which ensued was bloody and merciless. Thousands were interned and executed. Many juveniles were imprisoned without trial until they reached maturity, at which time they were then tried as an adult. In this way the government was able to circumvent the stigma of having executed juveniles. Meanwhile, those murdered by the state -- both young and old – were thrown into unmarked graves face down and with their hands still tied behind their backs.

For those who had left Hungary, the situation wasn't necessarily that much better. In many cases, fear of the regime stayed with a person for the rest of their lives.

As a result, the fall of communism in the late 1980s has meant little for many survivors of the revolution and its aftermath. Antal Apro, Gabor Peter (former head of the dreaded secret police), and Istvan Dudas (the person responsible for the Mosonmagyarorvar massacre where 50-100 people were killed and over 200 wounded when the police opened fire on a crowd seeking to remove the red star from the town's barracks) – to name just a few high profile communists -- were all allowed to retire and/or die a peaceful death in the 1990s without ever having to answer for their crimes. Although Dudas was eventually convicted in 2001 and sentenced to three years, he didn't serve any time due to a presidential decree; moreover, his light sentence was handed down in consideration of his old age.

Unfortunately, there are many who accept such an outcome, pointing out that the perpetrators of past crimes are now mostly old, and the crimes happened so long ago that it's best to forgive, forget, and move on. This, however, reeks of a double standard. To this day we still persecute Nazis who had committed lesser crimes and see no qualms about bringing these old men to justice. Therefore, the same should hold true for the ideological heirs of the communist dictatorships, many of whom became "reformed communists" during the political changes of the late 1980s. As the late Gergely Pongratcz, leader of a group of Hungarian freedom fighters at the infamous Corvin Koz movie theater, once remarked: "We hear of reform communists, but that's all nonsense. Tell me, has anyone heard of a reform fascist?"

Imre Nagy

Revolution or Reform?

Not long ago, prime minister Ferenc Gyurcsany caused an uproar among survivors of the 1956 revolution when he remarked that Imre Nagy was a committed communist, from beginning to end. For most, who regard Nagy as the leader of the Hungarian Revolution, Gyurcsany's remarks were blasphemous. Yet apart from a lack of style and tact, Gyurcsany's remarks were in essence quite accurate. The problem with his remarks, however, was that it was a vain attempt to rewrite history: that is, Nagy and others weren't interested in revolution, but in reform. In other words, the events of 1956 was engineered by a movement toward reform communism as opposed to abolishing the socialist state.

It's perhaps an irony of history that statues and streets in Hungary are named after someone who had very little influence on events in 1956 and who can't be considered the leader of a revolution. And yet, despite the historical facts to the contrary, the myth and cult status of Nagy as "the leader" of the Hungarian Revolution persists; indeed, to deny this is actually considered a crime in Hungary.

Like so many at the time, Imre Nagy was someone caught in the flow of events. Whether he sided with the revolution or not, he was in effect a marked man. If the revolution succeeded and he stayed with the status quo, he would have most probably been tried and imprisoned along with other leaders of the regime. If he went along with the revolution and it failed, he would then be the fall guy for the party. As things turned out, the latter happened to be the case.

Imre Nagy was a dedicated communist and Muscovite. This means that during the Second World War he spent his time in Moscow preparing for the communist seizure of power in Hungary at the end of the war. Yet unlike many who were drawn to communism for one reason or another, Nagy and other Muscovites had no illusion as to the regime they were putting in place: they had first-hand experience of Stalinism at work in the Soviet Union and even used many of the tricks of the trade they had learned while in Moscow.

Thus, in no way can Nagy be considered an innocent party member oblivious to the inner workings of the Stalinist regime in Hungary headed by Matyas Rakosi. Unlike Rakosi and others, however, he did seek a slightly softer line. Yet this was more in the interest of self-preservation and genuine reform.

The environment in which Nagy operated was such that he was unable to break free of his own ideological chains, and it was only as the events of 1956 pushed him in a certain direction did he make certain changes. Hence, he wasn't a leader at the front pulling others with him, but a leader from behind being pulled by the ones he was supposed to lead. The best illustration of this was on October 25th, 1956, in front of parliament when he began his speech with the word "comrades" to which the crowd whistled their disapproval and shouted back "we are not comrades!"

Toward the end, Nagy remained not entirely in control of events. When Soviet forces re-entered the country on November 4th, 1956, to quash the revolution, Nagy claimed in his last radio address that Hungary's army was in place and resisting the invasion. This was clearly false: there was no large-scale resistance, only pockets freedom fighters holding out at various places.

The myth which surrounds Nagy also applies to other so-called leaders of the revolution, such as Paul Maleter. Maleter was the leader of Hungary's armed forces, and like Nagy was swept away by the events of 1956. In fact, Maleter initially fought against the revolution: he and his men battled against Pongratcz at the Corvin Koz, where several freedom fighters were killed by Maleter's men. It was only when it became clear that the revolution was going to succeed -- at least for the time being -- that Maleter decided to switch sides.

Pure and Simple

What makes the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 unique among revolutions is that it was perhaps one of the last of what can be called a classic: a revolt by an oppressed people wanting freedom. It was a spontaneous explosion with no leaders. Still, in a regime which ruthlessly wiped out any form of opposition a figurehead was needed, someone to cling to.

This was the role played by Imre Nagy and others who are looked upon today as the surrogate leaders of 1956. Meanwhile, the purity of the revolution and its aims are often encapsulated in the image of broken shop windows with their goods untouched and open chests in the streets full of money which was donated by passersby to help those affected by the fighting.

While the overall image of the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 may remain pure and simple, for the survivors old wounds cut deep. Part of the problem is with the survivors themselves. Those who lived through the events of fifty years ago are a fragmented group, each pursuing different agendas. As a result, there is no common ground on several issues. In one instance, Pongratcz refused a state decoration because the socialist government of Peter Medgyessy, as the ideological heirs of the former regime, refused to issue an official apology for the events of 1956. Others, however, seeking some sort of recognition for their role fifty years ago and aware that time is not on their side, swallowed their principles and pride, and accepted the award.

Disputes also surrounded the acquisition of apartments renovated from former Soviet barracks especially for survivors of the 1956 revolution. A clique system seemed to operate, whereby certain individuals were able to secure an apartment, even though their involvement in the revolution is questionable at best. Others, meanwhile, who may not have carried a gun but nevertheless worked hard and risked their lives handing out leaflets and taking part in first aid, were left out in the cold.

In spite of these and other small disputes and problems, what seems to hurt those who lived through the revolution of 1956 most of all is that younger generations seem to have already forgotten what the events of fifty years is all about. Furthermore, countless books and films about the revolution attempt to glamourise what happened and make it more appealing to a more modern audience, thereby robbing it somewhat of its essence.

Yet modern day politics seem to provide some sort consolation, nonetheless. The anti-government demonstration in front of parliament, now in its second month, has given some survivors hope that the flame of the defiance hasn't been extinguished entirely. Recently, when the police sought to remove demonstrators by force from the area in order to clear parliament for official government celebrations marking the 50th anniversary of the revolution, the president came out on the side of demonstrators and warned the police not to use force. Thus, the demonstrators will be allowed to remain where they are during the official ceremonies. Nevertheless. in order to hide from the outside world any form of democracy in action, billboards were erected in front of the demonstrators so that visiting dignitaries won't be able to actually see the protesters.

The fact that the presence of a large number of demonstrators in front of parliament may be a little uncomfortable and even intimidating for foreign leaders is of little concern to some survivors. Indeed, for those who still harbour feelings of betrayal, it would have been best if these visiting dignitaries hadn't come at all. True, many countries had opened their borders to the 200,000 refugees who fled Hungary after the Soviet intervention in November 1956. On the other hand, it would have been best if they had not opened their borders and instead given the assistance that was originally promised so that 200,000 people wouldn't have had to have fled their homes in the first place.

The world is fond of saying that the Hungarian Revolution started the process that ultimately brought down the communist regimes in Central and Eastern Europe in 1989. Along these lines, they attempt to absolve themselves of the past by claiming that the fiftieth anniversary of the Hungarian Revolution is an anniversary to be shared by all. What they fail to mention, however, is that the Hungarian Revolution not only exposed the brutality of the Soviet regime to the rest of the world, but also the hypocrisy of the west. When it comes to global politics, little countries don't matter, and revolutions such as 1956 are a nuisance. Big countries don't like to bothered by small nuisances, especially during a golf game, as Eisenhower, the American president at the time, vividly demonstrated.

In the end, the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 doesn't belong to everyone. Rather, it's the exclusive preserve of those who had lived through it fifty years ago. It's their anniversary -- and theirs alone.

http://www.heise.de/tp/artikel/23/23811/1.html